Life, Poetry

i spy

When I was a little girl, we used to play a game called I Spy to pass the time on long drives. This poem is not about that.

i spy

© 2019 punkie


i spy


tinker, tailor,
soldier, spy
wave at stalkers
driving by

seems pious folk
like raking muck
and causing trouble
with lies they cluck

i wonder who
they want to see:
praying you?
or pagan me?

what kinds of questions
do they ask
while working hard
at watching tasks?

“did you see where
he hung his hat!?
spent his time!?
and trimmed the fat!?

goodness gracious
so quick to judge
as if the saviour
gives a fudge

it’s totally
a waste of time —
hardly worth
another rhyme

but i’m a kind
and giving soul,
so here’s a juicy
page to scroll



© 2019 Susan Macaulay. I invite you to share my poetry and posts widely, but please do not reprint, reblog or copy and paste them in their entirety without my permission. Thank you.

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