No one knows why,
But his shits were huge.
They disappeared around the bend,
And left a perky brown iceberg above the water line.
Hotels dreaded his residence,
All too often, his huge turds
Blocked their entire system.
Plumbers adored him.
As a nose-picker, he was second to none;
A skill he was happy to share
On buses and trains, in lifts, in libraries, . . . → Read More: Obituary – a Poem by H. McFaddean Spume