Like one might say, John the grocer
or Ted the bread, I am
Mavis the poet.

They ask me to read at funerals.
And sometimes at weddings.
I love it when they want my words,
But often they ask me to do cover versions,
Poems about hard climbs and marvellous pairs.

Is life like a journey to Marks and Sparks?

I think life is like a cakewalk.
You know, the wobbly walk at fairgrounds
Where punters struggle to keep upright on the jittery boards.
And Marks and Sparks?
You can buy crockery from department stores,
And marriage is for mugs.

Perhaps that’s why they prefer other poems
I’m not very comforting, am I?

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