Preamble: for this week's Saturday Rhymers theme of "moving", just for FUN repeat FUN, here is my first attempt at a... well, you'll see.

Gotta keep on moving ‘cos it hurts to stand still.

Gotta weep in proving that my work’s not landfill,

Gotta seek to be outrageous ‘cos this weakness is contagious,

Gotta be a freak to speak out and break out of all these cages.

Gotta kee...

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Preamble: for this week's Rhymers theme "first", here is my first attempt at a villanelle.

My son, it fell to you to be born first

You turned a couple into Mum and Dad

You sometimes had the best, sometimes the worst

You changed our lives when into them you burst,

And for that day I ever shall be glad,

My son, it fell to you to be born first.

Our parenting was w...

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Preamble: my contribution to this week's Rhymers' theme "fire".

Wouldn’t it be easier to recognise a liar

If caught telling porkies, their pants really caught fire?

As a warped form of justice, it would be rather fun

To see a guilty con man get singed around the bum.

The value of honesty would rapidly be learned

If every untruth told led to buttocks getting burned.

P...

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Preamble: my contribution to this week's Saturday Rhymers theme - with apologies to anyone called Jack.

Men called Jack must always complain

About their name being taken in vain.

In language, literature, songs and nursery rhymes

The name “Jack” crops up time after time.

Whenever a male figure is expected

Chances are a character called “Jack” will be selected.

What have th...

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For this week's Saturday Rhymers theme: Leaving Home.

When I go back and stay at my Dad’s place,

It’s great, but it’s no longer home.

I struggle to get my own kids off to sleep

In the room that I once called my own.

They watch cartoons, just as I did

Two sofas, three tellys ago.

So much is the same, yet so much has changed,

Though I try hard to not let i...

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For a poem about motivation

I find myself lacking real inspiration.

After a period of procrastination

It’s become a source of great frustration.

Is this real artistic creation

Or just intellectual masturbation?

But following quiet contemplation

I had a sudden revelation:

What I am lacking is

The title.

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I like my music ANGRY. My favourite types of song

Are those that call for change, to try to right some wrongs.

I’ll take lyrics about war or peace or duty socially bound,

Over any heartfelt soulful dirge about love lost or found.

But it seems my favourite protest songs have limited success,

Judging by the fact the world is still in such a mess.

The answers blowing in the win...

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Preamble: for this Saturday's theme of DANCE.

I hear music. The beat begins.

It taps gently at my consciousness and slowly enters in.

It slides through my skull like the lift of warm caffeine

Raising pulse, slowing thoughts, it’s as if I’m in a dream…

Step by step I’m vanquished, it takes over my brain

It numbs my higher functions, until nothing remains

But the essence of...

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Preamble: I wrote this shortly after my wedding 2 years ago, but never found the chance to perform it. I've revived it for today's Rhymers' theme of "weddings". It is a slam so it looks strange on paper, so I also made this video.

https://youtu.be/3jjfTqm7PyM

I have so many thanks to give for this special day!

First, the weather: my eternal gratitude to whichever Supreme Being or natural...

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They say it’s class warfare, they say the rich have won

They don’t understand the hurly burly’s not done

Their smug sense of victory will be somewhat misplaced

It’s hard to be elite when the planet’s laid to waste

They plunder and they pillage and they take more than they need

They’re selling all our futures just to feed their selfish greed

They think they’re sitting pretty,...

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Preamble: In honour of this week's Rhymers' theme "children", here is a poem written in collaboration with my 7-year-old son.

Some people say they don’t like children

But they are wrong.

We aren’t the ones dropping the bombs.

We aren’t the ones firing the guns.

Children don’t kill other children.

The guy on the ground, he’s just doing as he’s told

The job that he’s paid f...

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I walk up from the bus stop at the end of each weekday,

I know I’ll cause a ruckus, every step along the way.

One hundred yards, four houses, four front gardens, four closed gates,

Behind each one a canine sentinel does lie in wait.

To take this path I have to steel my nerves, or ears at least,

And take care not to get a scare from these four furry beasts.

Am I always to be hound...

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Just for fun...

From the moment they first met, they got on rather well,

They soon became an item, and deep in love they fell,

Were made for each other, as far as they could tell,

Pretty soon they were hearing the sound of wedding bells.

They set up home together, and things were going well

Until they took a shower, then broken was the spell

As it turned out he used soap,...

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