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DODGY POETRY
Don’t Read This. It’s Private.
An anagram poem to my hairdresser
I’ve heard that the normal thing to do in a hairdresser’s when you have bleach on your head and 30 minutes to kill is to read magazines.
I am not normal. I subjected my new hairdresser to renditions of my poems. A captive audience of one was too good an opportunity to miss. Bless him, he took it really well. He even said he liked my anagram poem.
So, just for you, Will, please find below another one. Every word can be formed from the letters in your name. Lots of love, Annie.
Creakily well.
We are really lyrical
All week, all year
We are lilac lyrical
We really are clear
We wake, we cry, we reel, we walk
We crew, we wreck, we wrack, we care
Like a clerk, like a lark
Like celery, like kale
We are clearly key
We cry, we call
We really care
A rally call
Are we lairy? Are we racy?
Are we lacy? Are we law?
Are we cake? Are we clay?
Are we wily? All, all
Like early ice
All icy, all clear
We are clearly wacky
We are Will Ackerley
