You can see from the previous post that Sally gave me ‘ferocious, two, hole and brilliant’ to work into a poem. By the time I had muttered ‘ferocious’ to myself 203 times it started sounding a bit weird. So I went with that! (Now I’m quite fond of the word ferocious and it’s lost its ferociousness. But I’m not sure I can spell it anymore.)
A FEROCIOUS POEM
One ferocious summer’s day
I took a ferocious walk,
I passed a ferocious garden gate
and stopped for ferocious talk.
I browsed at ferocious markets,
I bought a ferocious scarf,
the ferocious woman who sold it to me
laughed a ferocious laugh.
A ferocious lunch was needed to fill
the ferocious hole in my tum
I climbed aboard a ferocious bus
I hummed a ferocious hum.
I found two ferocious curries
left by ferocious Gran,
I heated them to a ferocious heat
in a ferocious frying pan.
A brilliant if somewhat ferocious sun
cast its last ferocious ray.
I pulled my ferocious pyjamas on —
What a ferocious day!
Copyright Rebecca Newman 2014