Soul

They say the body

is the temple of the soul.

She was

A good-templed woman,

Liked to get a bit of worship

Under her belt.

There were queues

To use her pews.

Heart and soul

Of gold,

She was

Frank

In sense,

De-myrrh indeed.

Many a soul

On many a foot

Learned to lapse

In her apse;

In devotion

To kiss her,

On the whole,

On her soul.

Copyright Nick Alexander

Published by Turn Up Books in the anthology For Reasons Of Space - available for £7.50 at Ice Bytes and the Three Counties Bookshop

Some Bugger's Been Fiddling With My Toaster Setting

Some Bugger's been fiddling with my toaster setting;

It's most upsetting.

It's clear it's not impinged

Upon the bread; that's hardly even singed.

Some Bugger's been fiddling with my toaster setting;

Visitors need vetting.

It surely was a raid well planned,

Just a subtle sleight of silent hand.

Some Bugger's been fiddling with my toaster setting;

They must be letting

All and sundry out to roam

About my kitchen when I'm not at home.

Some Bugger's been fiddling with my toaster setting;

What's the betting

That a fool has thought to tread

Where Angels rush in to toast their bread.

Copyright Nick Alexander

Published by Turn Up Books in the anthology I've Already Spent It - available for £6 at Ice Bytes and the Three Counties Bookshop

Video Link: Excavations of Eternity