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Three minute poem

On Saturday I was at a writing day at the Poetry Society, led by Ann and Peter Sansom, who put us through our paces in a series of rapid fire exercises. In one, we were asked to imagine an abandoned item, something forgotten or neglected, and write in its voice. Unfortunately I find myself turning to slapstick on these occasions.


I am that knick-knack
you picked up in Spain
You know –
The thing you laughed over
and couldn’t resist, that afternoon
when you were probably
on the local Sangria
or too much blue sky

Yes, I am the shoe horn
made from bull horn
decked out like a matador
red ribbons and brass buttons
I was just one tinkly gift
on a crowded shelf

You could have hung me in your kitchen
or in the hall, with pride
a perpetual reminder of
one night in Mojacar

Don’t you have any shoes?


*of course it should have been Ola – as pointed out by Ann

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Robin Houghton 2024