Cold Porridge

Marcia was sour cream washed down with bile,
she never would smile, just smirked or snarled.

Catherine was smashing, a raspberry ripple
with happy, trill laughter and girlish giggles.

Samantha was coy, but blew hot and cold,
rather like custard, sweet, sometimes cloyed.

Patrick was sausage daubed with brown sauce,
tasty and cheeky but not ones first choice.

Bertie was naughty, like very rich chocolate,
bad for you health, but that never stopped you.

Egg and cress sandwiches, Martha and George,
smelly and boring, they got up your nose.

Suzanna was snooty, a caviar bitch,
stubborn as food stains that bleaching won't fix.

I hope you've enjoyed my main menu today
not very tasteful, cold porridge, I'd say.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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