Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

ribbing

18 February 2014

 

 

Twenty-four,

none mythologically missing,

enclosing everything vital,

offering protection from outside harm.

 

Small things,

like teasing and knife blades,

can slip between, causing damage,

sometimes fatal.

 

Many are susceptible

to terror almost unbearable,

the dreaded rib-tickler,

which is no laughing matter.

 

No key unlocks this mortal cage,

although it can be cut and splayed

when hearts are broken, or need arise

to get at what’s inside.

 

Like ships, we’re balanced and made strong

by ribs and keel and wine and song.

And one last thing to mention, true,

I never cared for ribs BBQed.

 

 

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18 February, 2014 - Posted by | Poetry |

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