This poem is an epitaph to the word ‘shard’ commonly considered to be one of the most overused words in poetry – I thought that if I use it as many times as possible in one piece I can close the door on this word forever!

She sheds her shards, in a shard of shards,

Want to shard? she shards shardily,

I recall she said we would tonight

If I played my shards right

I tremble at the sight of her naked shapely shards,

Shimmering like gossamer in the shards of night,

Shard I compare you to a Summer Shard?

I share shards of the bard, Shakespearian shards if you like,

I heard it makes the babes go all shardy inside

She lies down sharductively on the shard, which looks painful,

I shed my shabby shards revealing a not too shabby shard,

Well, aren’t you the shady shard she whispers,

Her shuddering shard shrieks in the shard light

To keep the shard from the door

I recite Beatles lyrics

It’s been a shards days night,

The shards shook themselves into shards

Until the earth was just shards of shards of shards

She fades away in a petit shard,

I think I’m falling in shard with you I gasp,

It’s just shard she says, you shardy boy,

I’m sure you say that to all the shards,

I shake my head, I would never

Shard on you I say

I notice the door is slightly ashard

Where her husband shards shiftily,

I want no part of this shard charade, this is all a sham

I’m not a swinging shard, shard aside I’m off! I shouted

But inside I am nothing but shards,

I shard out, shards streaming down my broken shard

She shardly notices as I leave the house forever

Never to shard again

A fitting epitaph

To a Summer of shards,

Soon to be a palimpsest