Hyyre n proave

pon sheed unjoad

in hoye ‘n hoyle-howls

befuddled word, o’blite absurd

he gurgled remott’d vowels

Lesp he ‘n shyy

for ryle deride

aggrinn aggurny byy

rillig speech, from creatured-eeb

flowed his otherworldly vibe

So jue a norn

to borrishly

this being spoke in tongue

but wopeth no apology

for such unbridled shrung

It siff ! ...

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This is for my dear sister Carole, whom we lost on Monday. She was a member of a very traditional and, dare I say it, quite mysoginistic suburban tennis and bowling club. She played neither, but was by far the best actor in the amateur dramatics section, which sadly folded years ago. She was a brilliant and inspirational primary school teacher, who loved telling stories, especially in verse. She a...

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The invitation came from an anonymous source

With a hint of menace in a note of force

A resolution has been passed

By our High Command

For festive entertainment we want your band

This is not optional, there’s no way out 

We’re ready and waiting so don’t hang about

Be at the Village Hall on the Thirteenth of December

And prepare to deliver an event to remember

There’ll be...

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On the Grand Canal in Venice

where bridges span and sigh

There’s a rising sense of menace

Here comes the W.I.

They’re oblivious to the sandbags

Stacked against an inundation

As they wield their leather handbags

And march in tight formation

At the head of them is Norah

The bravest and the best 

The other girls adore her

In their phalanx, ten abreast

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There’s a Kangaroo at the barbecue

She’s not supposed to be here

There’s a kangaroo at the barbecue

Snaffling snags and necking beer

She just hopped off with a chicken thigh

That thigh has never been so high

It was a bit of a shock, I’m not gonna lie

She’s a chargrill kleptomaniac

A high flying ‘roo with a view

Get Superman, call Brainiac

She’s bit off more than ...

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A 'Brush' with Art !  

I think I'll take up painting.

Could it really be that tough?

To swish a brush across the canvas

....spreading ‘oil-based stuff’.

Lots of people do it

and make money on the side.

But the trick to this is selling them

to folk  (..... before you’ve died!)

Da Vinci and his ‘Masters’

could have flogged a few more ‘Greats’,

if ...

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My mother’s mother, Granny Brown

was ‘muchly-loved’ (once) in our town. 

The care she gave; her happy ways. 

She cheered us, in her ‘ember days’. 

She liked to knit, but not to sell.  

Such quality, (oh, you could tell!). 

Each item, thoroughly bespoke 

- for gifting to specific folk.  

“Gran, that’s great !” I’d often shout.  

“You knit them, then you han...

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I met this gorgeous woman for some ‘afternoon-delight’.

When we ventured back to her place (well and truly ‘outta-sight’!).

We scurried up the stairs and very soon were ‘in flagrante’.

My clothes were off as she approached, in just her bra and panties.

We intertwined, to ‘moan and grind’, intent on pure ‘amour’

But soon were interrupted by the thumping of a door.

My lov...

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When, first I began on the ‘poetry’ scene,

my brain wasn’t ready. Let’s say “a bit ‘green’”?

A “bull-at-a-gate” (if you know what I mean)

and ended up racing - a little too keen !

There’s a challenging issue in having Verse, rhyme.

Writing ‘couplets’ that match, yet make sense every time.

Which, sometimes presents a ‘huge mountain to climb’

(if you seek to avoid the ‘mund...

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Morning Writing

I sit here by my window

And watch the birds out on the sill.

They are pecking at the seed

In the feeder, I just filled.

I sit here at my laptop

Trying hard to write a bit.

Words aren’t coming easy

As I slowly lose my wit.

I fix a pot of coffee

Then I drink a cup or two.

I sit and watch the birds some more

As I finish off my brew.

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Where did I put my mind?
This is going to drive me nuts!
I retraced my steps, back to front,
Checked my pockets... several times,

Looked around where I'd been outside,
And even rummaged through the garbage!
Where did I put my mind?
This is going to drive me nuts!

I've been everywhere thrice,
Even places I'm sure I never was,
And I've run out of places to search,
And, yet, it's nowhe...

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One of my favourite opening sentences in all the world is the opening line to Anthony Burgess’ novel Earthly Powers:

“It was the afternoon of my eighty-first birthday, and I was in bed with my catamite when Ali announced that the archbishop had come to see me.”

Being not very well read, I haven’t actually read the book but I am sure it is rather good as the first sentence is stunning and mad...

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