Brain Celeb Surgery

A couple of poems on a similar theme. The first is one I wrote about a year ago and have recently rediscovered. It was untitled at the time, and was written as an example of a "huitain".

The second is brand new, and the poetic form is an example of "hymnal measure".

Brain Celeb Surgery

I have a wish - it's not too much.
If I should seem to care who's gay,
If I should buy "Hello!" or such,
If I should start to follow, say
Big Brother, Chelsea, Kyle, André,
Keith Lemon, TOWIE, Dear, what's on?
If I should watch such TV, pray
Commit me, please! My brain has gone.

Afternoon Viewing
Remember how it used to be,
those days of years gone by,
when TV before half-past-three
was something for the eye.

No sitcoms shown incessantly,
(less channels anyway)
before unreal “reality”
when good taste still held sway.

No Kyle or Springer to be seen
an audience that mocks
so what was on the TV screen?
The test-card on the box.

Thought

This poem was in response to a request to write something in the "Pleiades" form. For this, it doesn't have to rhyme, and the syllable count isn't restrictive. The only rules are:

• It should have seven lines.
• Each line starts with the same letter.

You may have gathered from my previous posts that I like my poetry to rhyme and have some semblance of rhythm. So...

 Thought

There are some days you wonder what
the right course is and what is not;
that feeling that you have to prove
the things that you hold true: whilst you've
the facts to hand, you're pressed to move.
Then all at once you know they've got
the brains of slugs - so sod the lot.