Vandals

Vandals

 Day 7: a poem based on a news article. 

I first heard this story on 1 April and assumed it was an April fool's prank., but since then the story has appeared in various national newspapers and on the BBC news - so it must be true!


The Llandudno police have turned goatherds
To round up the new gang in town
Down from the Orme on a spree.
A herd of feral goats: long haired, long horned
Evil smelling vandals out for a laugh,
Flashing their wicked grins and devil eyes,
Clattering their hooves on the pavement
As they face the coppers down.

You can't really blame them.
Eager to escape the nannies and kids,
Tired of the same view, day after day,
The same heathland grass and gorse,
Of keeping their distance from invading walkers,
They've turned the tables.

Unaware and unconcerned
That those hiding inside are in lockdown,
They strut along deserted streets,
Claiming the town as their own,
Replacing cliff ledges with garden walls
Wildflowers with tender privet shoots,
Exotic hydrangeas.

But order must be restored
The high street is no place for gangs. 


© Copyright 2020. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved


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