Geesulls

Night Mare

Geesulls were flying overhead as we
Ran to the beach; a fresh of breath air blew
Around our feet; a mell-of-a-hess sea
Inched its filthy way; wave after wave threw
Non-appealing items onto the shore.
Some picnic we were going to endure!
Our pill dickles might even up the score;
Fresh strawgelberries might keep our mouths pure…
The English Riviera is a sight
Reserved for those who have a stomach strong.
Of all the scenes, this causes puzzlements —
One must recoginise that pollutants,
Taking no time to right what’s been done wrong,
Have put us in this picklement: a fright!