Behold the Manchego Tortoise,
In its natural habitat,
A paved Spanish street near a bench
(For emergencies or gossip).
Donna Maria Mar Conchita.
As this specimen, the camera crew has named.
She slowly lumbers on a pair of crutches,
Her gaping dentured maw allowing gases,
To erupt in long tenor belches.
Though taboo in her species,
She has survived Franco and the fascists,
Bent double stooped work in the olive fields
From dawn to dusk,
Malevolent Machismo,
Whilst matriarch to a huge clan
Of Marias and Juan Antonios,
The cocaine coated change to democracy,
Spanglish,
The loss of pesetas,
Politicians so bent
They sleep on winding staircases,
The internet.
At eighty-five and still alive,
She will belch where she damn well pleases.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoetryWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch
