Next year in England
Pensions Go up


My life is like a battery,
Only twenty percent remains.
Though I need a recharge,
You can't plug me
Back into the mains.

Worked out for us oldies,
The pension rise you see.
At least we will afford an egg,
For breakfast, Lunch and tea

There's just one more thing,
That I don't get.
By the end of the year,
We'll be seven hundred pounds
In debt.

Well there goes the gas
And electricity,
We won't need a key to pay off,
Or a walk to the shops
To pay the lot.

My arms are getting stiff,
As so are my legs.
Wait there's a flaw
In my plan, To keep me
out of debt.

Won't someone explain to me,
How do I Cook the eggs?
Oh well candlelit
Dinner for one.

Poetry by Alan J Ripley The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 43 times
Written on 2021-10-22 at 00:06

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Uncle Meridian The PoetBay support member heart!
A fine, resilient poem of admirable verbal economy.