Poetry Editor, Ira Maine has submitted this masterpiece

Over The Edge.  A poem by Pat Ingoldsby.

Although if might look like it
From the far distance
The horizon is not in fact
The edge of the world.
It is actually a sheer drop
Of 200,000 feet
Into Mrs Moriarty’s back garden.
She is not very happy about this
Because huge ships
Frequently fall down
Onto her patio
With an unmerciful crash
While she is playing chess
With Rupert Netherby.
“Fuck it anyway, Rupert”
She exclaims.
“There’s another ship.”
“You really should complain
to somebody” says Rupert.
“I would if I thought they
Were doing it on purpose.”
She replies.
Night time is the worst.
All the sailors shout
“Avast belay”
And hoot their sirens
And fire bright rockets.
I don’t know how she
puts up with it.,
Perhaps she is glad of the company.

The failure in each line to begin with uppercase is as the poem appears in Pat Ingoldsby’s self published book, “Poems so fresh and new…yahoo!  Willow Publications(Dublin 1995)