Coconut Run Dung

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Pain
  • ,
  • Comedy
  • ,
  • Health

    Coconut Run Dung

    Three sashets coocnut powder.
    Five medium size plummie tomatoe.
    Ockras from my garden plot.
    Onion, skellion,the whole lot.
    Mixed with one cup cold water
    Start to cooked in a sauce container.


    Sixteen ounces of wheat flour
    Three fingers banana, one sweet potatoe
    Knead the flour, peel the banana
    and dont forget the sweet potatoe,
    With eight ounces of salt-fish
    Cooked into one dainty dish.


    Remove and flake the cod protien,
    Mixed into the first tureen.
    Simmer the stew to custard and oil
    Then wait until the carbohydrate boil.
    Consume much as you gut'll retain
    A quart lemon aide, it should sustain


    Wake up next day, rush to the john
    Empty your bowels and then, Wham!


    A wha... dis father?


    Wife claims its from the the run-dung
    Greedy! You had too much my son.
    This pain! Can't be from the stew
    Nor from the lime and sugar brew.
    Something down there severed my tripe!
    Or maybe it is an appendix gripe.


    Get me to a doctor! O God, please!
    He must be able to find some ease.
    What? Son's gone with the car?
    Call him please, he cant be far.
    The cell phone rang with no response
    Oh Lord my God give me a chance.


    Oh yes! he's here, my sons arrive,
    Now thirteen kilometers, can I survive?
    Onto the causeway via the toll
    It stabs, it moves, it pains untold.
    Doc, Doc, My Lord at last I'm here.
    The pain, the pain now's everywhere.


    He poked, he joked while I am soaked
    He tested, he rested, then he spoke.
    Does it pain here? or there or here?
    No! no! oh no! not there! not there!
    Hold it right there! not there, right here!
    Whew! He now has a certain clue.



    The culprit! The cause! What do you think?
    A KIDNEY STONE, not the stew or drink.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is what is lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Monfries’s Poems (8)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Coconut Run Dung 0
    SOS (In Jamaican Patois) 1
    Who Am I? 0
    Ode to my Seventh Graders 1
    Severed 3
    She's Gone Forever 1
    Memories 1
    When Tomorrow Starts Without Me 0