NaPoWriMo day eleven and here’s poem number ten. In last year’s NaPoWriMo I wrote a poem about hen weekends called Here Come the Hens. I thought this time round I do a matching piece about Stag weekends. I don’t know if these are purely British phenomenons, I suspect not, but we get quite a few of both in my home town of Birmingham. I’ve added the first poem at the end so that you can view the pair of them together in all their glory. Hope you like them. I’m quite pleased with them…
Bring on the Stags
Bring on the stags,
bring on the stags.
Butting and rutting
and strut, strut, strutting.
Sweaty face on sweaty face,
Vindaloo leaking
from every pore,
they jeer and leer
in hormonal frenzy
as the hens cluck by.
Primped and preened
shirt sleeved, shirt off,
Jägerbombed and blasted
they grunt and grind
to their totemic anthem
“Lager, lager, lager.”
C’mon, c’maaan,
bring on the stags.
Here Come the Hens
Here come the hens,
here come the hens.
High heels clack, clack, clacking
in time to the rhythm of suitcases
stuffed with slogan t-shirts and pink tutus
rumbling like trains on tracks
towards budget hotels.
The clink, clink, clinking
of cheap vodka bottles
stashed in oversized handbags
waiting to be downed in plastic cups
whilst piling on the slap
in readiness for a night of thrills.
An undercurrent
of heightened arousal simmers,
eager to pop like champagne,
in anticipation of the weekend’s fun.
Make way, make way
here come the hens.
