Gibberish

I’m trying to learn Swahili,

So to you I say “Hujambo”.
I saw a film a while ago,
Called ‘The Son of Rambow’.
My boyfriend thinks it’s gibberish,
When I use words he doesn’t know,
But I learn it ‘cos it’s Africa,
To which I long to go.

We use a lot of gibberish,

In our daily chat.
Why do we learn, when we are young,
Of the cat upon the mat?
Why do we take such interest,
In a random bloke called … Matt?
Who stars an obscure TV show,
About people in a flat?

You’ll find a lot of gibberish,

If you start to look.
It takes a lot of words you know,
To try and write a book.
Some people try to fill them,
With ideas on how to cook.
Other people tell you all,
About a trip they took.

This poem is just gibberish,

A bunch of words that rhyme.
I may be the worst poet,
That exists in space and time.
But I think, a little gibberish,
Is useful, like a … mime?
To make you laugh, to make you smile,
Like tequila, salt and lime.

By Nicola Pellow
©January 2009