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‘I’d like to challenge you to write a poem about bridges’ is the prompt for NaPoWriMo Day Twenty Eight.
‘Write about bridges,’ we were told,
And so I started rants
Regarding ladies who made bold
To try and wear the pants!
But then I came to realise
That ‘britches’ wasn’t meant,
Which means that, all, I must revise
On what time’s so far spent …
Ah – bridges are what go on teef
To straighten dental sets,
And ugliness beyond belief
From which the wearer gets.
A bridge upon a violin
Or else upon a geet,
Is funny bit of wood wherein
The strings one has to seat.
Another Bridge has people, four,
Around a table, sat,
With bits of card; it seems a bore –
I wonder what they’re at?
Ah, so, as far as bridges go,
That is the lot, perhaps?
Oh wait – there are still more to show –
The ones for bridging gaps!
In Paris, many there exist
To take away the pain
Of crossing, so cars may desist
From driving you in Seine.
In London, nothing bridges Thames –
For it has fallen down –
So, crossing, Londoner condemns
To risking that he drown.
On bridges, this is quite enough:
The subject has gone stale;
We need one from the town to Bluff –
But that’s another tale!