Onion Bhaji Argy-Bargy

The poet and his fair lady face off across the dinner table

A single bhaji lingered
Alone upon my plate,
Not so much a foodstuff
As a channel of her hate.

She eyed it up with black intent,
Then picked it up quite sprightly
And jammed it up my nose
Until I couldn't breathe quite rightly.

I yearned to tell my story,
Explain I bore no blame.
It was just a strange coincidence
The blonde had known my name.

But the bhaji choked my silver words.
My lungs could not inflate.
Then the onion inhalation
Caused my gut to detonate.

I clambered up the tablecloth,
Grasping at the water,
But slipped up on my vomit and
Fell on a wrestler's daughter

Her father bashed me up a bit
And spun me round the room.
He made me eat more bhajis
Then impaled me on a broom.

And so I've learnt my lesson:
When cheating on your bird,
Don't let her near your bhajis
Coz she'll make you look a turd.

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Poem Study Notes:

Whilst watching a cookery show, the poet just couldn't stop thinking to himself: What rhymes with onion bhaji?

A few days later, this poem was the slightly disappointing result.

This was written in 2003ish.

The last verse is appalling - please feel free to improve it.

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