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Our Flirtation with Surrealism
Our classes flirtation with surrealism was about to commence.
With a welcome visit to the wine bar.
It wasn't my forte, to me it never made any sense.
After a few too many glasses, a place to rest was needed.
So, I sat on the horse's rump, where I contemplated my fate.
It felt like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I had a pain in my head, that was like a knotted ribbon.
Crushing angina gripped my heart, as it worked its way to my hoofs.
No doubt caused by my skull, hitting the archway as I ducked.
For a moment or two, it went dark.
But I'm a chip off the old block and saw straight through it.
I thought it was the horse's mane.
Only to discover it was a branch line.
But just like the London Underground.
It was woven, from centuries of twists, turns, and dead ends.
It took an inordinate amount of time to find a way out.
The whole thing was a surreal maze, it was pointless trying to gallop.
We settled for a canter, we ended back at a wine bar.
But I was led on the floor, trying to balance a wine glass on my nose.
As my classmates yelled Red, Amber, Green, let it go.
Footnote:
This poem is a surreal as the picture, but it is fascinating where your imagination can take you, it took me a matter of minutes to write this nonsense.
