Hake (POEM)

Thursday’s poem turned out to be an unintentionally serious effort – an idea that stemmed from trying to be flippant about roadkill veered dangerously close to becoming something approaching a ‘social commentary’ (if I may be so bold). If it turns out I could write serious poems then I suppose that’s good, but I much prefer irreverent nonsense like this:

Hake

If you should ever awake

From your slumber one morn

And find you’re lying next to a hake,

Then pause a moment: let the day dawn,

Take stock, and for goodness sake

Don’t say we didn’t try and warn

You. But please do try and make

An effort, just don’t fawn,

Or it’ll follow its instinct and take

Every advantage it can. It’ll yawn

And say, “I’m so tired. Get me something to slake

This awful thirst; I’ll take it on the lawn.”

“That ain’t grass,” you’ll reply, “It’s fake;

I put Astroturf down when the ground failed to grow corn.”

“Don’t care!” the fish will say, “Now carry me out on a rake.”

You’ll wonder what you did since you were born

To deserve this; after all, a fish can’t have its cake

And eat it, surely? Well yes, it can, or

It wouldn’t ask about lunch too, and want a tasty salmon bake.

So the lesson here is clear:

Should you ever awake

Lying next to a hake,

Find some time, and make

The effort to go and take

It back to the sea. Or a lake,

For the purposes of the rhyme.