Poems by Harry Edwards

Lamppost Johnson, glowing dimly
Is about as tall as a standard chimney
He's as chipper as a kipper when the sun goes down
He lights up the room if the room is a road through a built-up town

Have any of you folks seen Jacket Potato?
He's the size of a very small honeydew melon?
He was last seen with Chilli and a large stick of butter
And we're worried he's thinking of filling himself

A drummer played a solo on the poppadom drums
It was excellent but short and made the poppadoms crumbs

Carrot sticks the landing
And everybody's standing
Applauding such a somersault
By a very orange gymnast

Carrot sticks the landing -
The trick was quite demanding - 
And the judges smile and all give tens
To a very happy vegetable

Percival Plagiarist was one of the famousest
Writers of original fiction
He published new works at an alarming rate
Alarm which was very well founded

Train train train

So often in the rain

Unless it’s one of those underground ones

In which case mostly dry

Golden and delicious, I am All Butter Croissant
Don't mistake my flaky bake for weakness or uncertainty.
I'm fiercer than a muffin and a great strategic thinker,
Superb at growing revenue and excellent with jam

Sheepskin Rug is as soft as a hug
And hopelessly in love with the neighbourhood pug.
She finds his faint wheezing incredibly pleasing,
And his four legs remind her of the ones she used to have.

Oh look! A tangerine
Sitting in the fruit bowl.
Larger than a clementine
And smaller than an orange.

Wowee! A tangerine
Rolling down the staircase,
Looking like a bowling ball
Rolling down a staircase.

Fucking hell, a tangerine
Pointing its gun at a bank clerk.
It's actually just a very tanned man,
I mustn't keep forgetting my glasses.

There in the corner sits District Line Train Car
Drinking his sorrows away at the bar
He dreamed of becoming a New York financier
With a big golden Rolex on his bright yellow handrails

On his fifth whiskey is District Line Train Car
Hand on his Temple where his front doors don't open
Trying to pinpoint the relevant crossroads
That sealed his fate to a life Underground

On his way home now is District Line Train Car
Trying to head eastbound but going in Circles
Telling passersby that he used to be a banker
Getting looks and eyerolls from the ones who think he's Barking