Twenty-six is unlucky
Twice!
But, it has not the bad reputation
Of thirteen.
Except in some people’s heads
And they (we) are the ‘weird ones’
– Allegedly.
Apart from that
Nothing ‘ever’
Has ‘ever’ happened
On the twenty-sixth
Of any month
‘Ever’
Allegedly.
And, further to that,
No-one has ‘ever’
‘Ever’ written a poem,
Or sung a song based upon,
On any ‘twenty-sixth’
Of ‘any’ month-
Ever.
Also ‘allegedly.’
“Twenty-six green bottles…”
“On the twenty-sixth day of Christmas…”
“Only… twenty-six hours from…”
“Into the Valley of Death rode the twenty-six…”
See what I mean?
So, shall I poemicise the number twenty-six;
Enhance its reputation, the shortfall fix;
Or should I leave the Status Quo (like Alan in 1982, I think)
I am poised to write the rhymes, upon the brink
Of correcting the failing;
“No!” I hear you wailing;
“Don’t do it!”
But, I can’t stop myself, avoid, the bit
Where the words sort themselves into poetry
Inadvertently
Fervently
Impertinently
I shall not
It would only be wrot
What I writ!
Wouldn’t it?
Graeme Sandford 