Thursday, 17 July 2014


Murder! Well, that's the "A Poetry Show" theme this week. So let's have a multiple homicide to make things interesting.

Let's put it from the murderer's point of view, and make it so he doesn't feel he's really done anything wrong.

So we'll set it in a prison cell where he's awaiting arrest, whilst the police are out there seeking the damning evidence against him.

And that is the point where he'll start thinking about his current situation.

Yeah, that sounds alright.


I’m sitting in a holding cell
that has a disinfectant smell
and wond’ring how I came to be
suspected of a killing spree.
They came to get me yesterday;
They have their reasons – so they say.
They hold their cards close to their chest,
thereby delaying my arrest.
Now surely they must be aware
I don’t do drugs, I drive with care,
I pay my bills ahead of time,
So why imply there’s been a crime?

They think that I have killed my wife –
The woman who has changed my life
so I don’t waste it watching sport
when I could give her full support
in all she does, in all she says:
Of course I love her little ways.
The structure she brings with her rules;
I know she calls my friends all fools.
Whilst that may sound unkind, agreed,
there simply isn’t any need
to worry ‘bout my missing wife –
And missing rug – and kitchen knife.

And now they’re looking for her dad,
as they are thinking something bad
has happened to him, though it seems
to me they’re going to extremes
with mind games hoping I will crack;
To guide me down a cul-de-sac.
It beats me why they think that I
Know what has happened to that guy.
I will say this, though, knowing him,
intrusive at the slightest whim,
he may have drowned and lost his life –
The same way as his lady wife.

Her mother: they’ve not mentioned yet,
Nor brother, but they will, I bet.
Though I’m surprised they have the time
To spend on me, you’d think that I’m
The only case they have to work,
At least by that detective’s smirk.
But I suspect that things will change
as, soon, they’ll have to rearrange
resources in the station when
the night shift starts at half past ten,
‘cause then they’ll have to substitute   
for corpses in that squad car boot.