Turns out it’s Poetry Day today. They’ve been all over the news going on about TS Eliot and the like. And frankly that’s all I need to put forth something I felt oddly compelled to write earlier this year.
I fully expect a returning volley of similarly silly verse from the rest of you…
A GUTSY JOURNEY
‘MUM, I’ve eaten the SatNav,’ said Jimmy over tea.
‘Look – there – in his upper digestive tract,’ said the doctor at A&E.
‘It’s only a little SatNav,’ said Mum, with a sigh of some force.
‘Not much to do but wait for the poo,’ said the doc. ‘It’ll take its course.’
‘At the next blob of sausage, turn left,’ said a proper posh lady’s voice.
Muffled by stew, stomach acid and goo, it was SatNavvy Joyce.
‘At gall bladder junction, straight on,’ said Joyce, as Jim went home to bed.
‘Warning: congestion within your digestion, 23 minutes ahead.’
As Jimmy brushed hard at his teeth, the guidance got more graphic
‘Bypass the pancreas safely and then simply follow the traffic.‘
‘Mum, I‘m digesting the SatNav,’ called Jimmy. ‘It’s turning to jelly.’
‘If possible, make a U-turn,’ said the voice inside his belly.
Jim went to get his PJs, from the drawer with his pants and vest in
‘In fifteen yards, go left, then left, and into the large intestine.’
‘Warning,’ said the SatNav, as Jimmy was texting friends.
‘Jams ahead. Eat less white bread. And watch out for sharp bends.’
As Jim hit the pillow, sleepy, he was cordially asked to roll on
At no more than 30 miles per hour, to just inside his colon.
‘Take the ascending lane,’ said SatNav Joyce, ‘Then right.
‘At the roundabout, the second exit, mind out, the turning’s tight.’
The SatNav reached his colon, the bit that is transverse
Jimmy felt a nasty twinge, and took a turn for worse
Rushed back to hospital, doubled up, Jim got an operation
‘Take the descending route,’ intoned the wise SatNav narration
The doctors tried to see inside. This is not for a children’s rhyme.
But quick and slick, they used a small stick, to squint where the sun don’t shine.
‘Warning,’ the SatNav said. ‘Traffic cameras ahead.’
There came a nasty gust of wind from the foot of Jimmy’s bed.
‘Mum, I’ve ejected the SatNav,’ cried Jim, as the doctors dived.
The SatNav sensed the motion, and informed him ‘You have arrived.’
08/10/2009 at 3:58 pm Permalink
A work of gastric genius. Nice one, Ali!
09/10/2009 at 12:01 pm Permalink
Like it, Ali! SatNav poems are in their infancy but this is way cool!
I’ve been laid up with a plastered leg and got very bored…this is how I tried to amuse myself – the power of poetry
Super…er…heroes
I found some silver foil and made some silver shapes,
They looked just like silver people and so I gave them capes.
Now they’re a bunch of superheroes,
They’re a superhuman team.
(They can’t keep their IDs secret though
because silver foil gleams).
The baddies always know their coming
Especially if it’s light,
I might have to paint them black to keep them out of sight.
It’s a drawback being noticed when you want to keep things quiet,
Next time I’ll use something darker so the enemy won’t spy it.
09/10/2009 at 12:12 pm Permalink
Simon, I think you may have been delirious at the time…
(Which is, of course, when some of the best work gets done).
09/10/2009 at 4:09 pm Permalink
Think you might be right…That’s exactly what the orange penguins said too