MP ( / )

The Not So Royal Mint.

I never liked the smell of mint
when I was only four.
That bush by the back door
burst through the railings each year

The path was wide enough
when I think back
But not then.

Then,
I would hug the wall on tippytoes
arching my back like a concave mirror,
dreading the lightest brush with death
which would follow that dreaded scent.

One day, after a downpour, the damp-
ness amplified this poisonous perfume.
The summer sun seemed focused
on that path, the roots, those leaves.

I caught the whiff which burned the hairs
that lined my fragile throat.

So to all you culinary celebrities
using mint in that'n this.
I urge you, to forget it, please,
It reminds me of warm cat piss.

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Comments (5)

Some poems deserve to be famed. They're the ones that don't get famed..
label them liberals and question their patriotism... We bow to your wisdom, sansei, and are still waiting for the updat of the Prince
final verse, line 7...inser the word 'to' before 'save'...this is scathing and what a fantastic idea to mirror 'The Art of War'. this is my absolute favourite of yours. it is an uncompromising classic. brilliant, Michael.
I'd laugh if it weren't so frightening.
Nice one Michael: -) for your next piece may I suggest Machiavellis's The Prince, another old favourite here: -)