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The Poet’s Coffin

I don’t write poetry. The last was when I was about 10 years old and I won a book token. I don’t remember anything about the poem or the book I chose. But last night I had an email suggesting I might like to write horror poetry. Hmm. Not sure it’s for me really. I mean, I don’t love poetry the way I love prose. Still, my last post about the wonderful Mary Beard made me think of this (I told you she’s inspiring):


Mary Beard
was afeared
digging in the vault.
A corpse jumped out,
began to shout,
said Mary, ‘snot my fault.
What do you think? Go on, you know you want to 🙂