Monthly Archives: April 2015

It Takes ‘One’ To Have A Conversation – #NaPoWriMo


“Something cheery!”
Is the cry from my soul
“Give the bleak stuff a miss;
Nobody wants your miserable poems…
Or your depressing tales of woe and lakes that be gone!”

“Haha!” I retort. “That was a convoluted pun worthy of…
… me.”
I consider this a victory of sorts
“And another thing…”
I await the conclusion to this
“…your ‘funny’ poems and stories are
funny ‘peculiar’ and not that funny ‘haha!’ ”
I just consider this
“Have you finished?” I ask –
After a while (it is not the best response; but; I’ll have to make do with the lame duck that it is.
“I could say more; but, you are already unsure what to reply – you are that sort of guy!”
True. Yet, I felt that I needed to respond in a more positive way – but, what to say?
“La la la. Are you ‘rebooting?’ Seems like you’ve slipped into a coma. There’s a definite aroma of defeat in your ‘feet!’ ”
“Very droll!” I counter. “And I suppose that ‘you’ are such a ‘witty’ and unutterably ‘smart-mouthed, wise-cracking, purveyor of repartee, that you are not ‘me!’ ”
“Was that a question? You ended it with an exclamation mark. Your grammar is awful.”
She’s been dead for sixty-five years.”
“No, not your grandma!”
“Do you mean my ‘Nan?’ Thirty-five years.”
“I suppose you are an orphan.”
“Was that ‘rhetorical?’ ”
“Might have been.”
“You’re just playing with me now.”
“You are playing with yourself.”
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Give myself a stiff telling off.”
“As if that will work!”
“Worth a try.”
“Whatever! Bored now. Gonna leave you to your pond life of a life. Goodbye!”
“Ciao! And good riddance!”
“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back!”
“Thanks for the cheery note, Arnie!”
“Blah! Blah! Blah!”

They part – to be continued.

Don’t bust the buskers – exhibiting talent is not a crime

Don’t lock up buskers – unless it’s me (I’m that bad) freedom of speech and musical expression should be encouraged G

A Tale of Jack Hughes


Jack Hughes queues
In shoe-shops;
He looses shoes.

He gets the blues
He never knows
Which shoes to choose.

He accrues shoes;
He doesn’t always loose both shoes
They are also his muse;
He was on The News
About his shoes
(Of different hues)
Upon which he wrote haikus
One of which was:

‘I do love my shoes;
Be they in ones, or in twos;
Yellows, reds or blues.’


Well, a man ‘has’ to pay his dues.

A Visit to the Docs (“The Docs!”)


A Visit to the Docs (“The Docs!”)

Paul: Well, Ducktor (in an aside, that the doctor hears) – I’ve never been to see a quack before – it’s about this problem I’ve got.

Doctor Dracus: A ‘Quack!’ I’ll have you know that I have framed certificates upon my wall and I’ve been practicing for twenty-seven years!

Paul (admiringly): That’s a lot of practice – you should be pretty good by now.

Doc: I am the best in my field.

Paul: Are you a vet, too?

Doc: Certainly not! I am a GP with over a thousand on my books.

Paul: I’ve got about fifty in my bank book.

Doc: That is beside the point, young man. I have a reputation.

Paul: So have I – that’s why people tend to avoid me in the street.

Doc: Why? Are you aggressive?

Paul: Well… I’m ‘passive’ aggressive ; apart from the ‘aggressive’ bit. So, no, not really.

Doc: So, ‘why’ do they avoid you?

Paul: It’s the ducks ‘The Ducks!’

Doc: Sorry? Do you have Tourette’s?

Paul: It’s something like that; I tend to shout out words randomly – but, as a part of my story about the ducks ‘The Ducks!’

Doc: Do you swear?

Paul: Doesn’t everybody?

Doc: I meant ‘as part of your ‘shouty-outy’ words.

Paul: Oh! Not as you would notice! It’s more like the ducks ‘The Ducks!’ Or the wretched ‘The Young People! With their ringtones ‘Horrors!’ Nothing ‘too’ sweary, really.

Doc: I can prescribe something for your condition.

Paul: You can?

Doc: I most certainly can; it’s what I do. I am suggesting you get out more; go for long walks-

Paul: To the Common?

Doc: That’s an option; however, I sense an excess of breadstuffs in your diet – and you maybe suffering from worms.

Paul: ‘The Worms!’

Doc: Or the Lurghi.

Paul: ‘The Lurghi!’

Doc: But, I think that you would be advised to see a specialist – an ornithologist.

Paul: The ‘whatchamacologist!’

Doc: Don’t worry about the long word; an ornithologist will be able to understand your problem; what is visibly affecting you, and also what is happening under the surface.

Paul: Oh.

Doc: That’s about it; I shall send you an appointment for a follow-up; and the ornithologist shall give you a (duck) call.

Paul: Thank you, Ducktor. You’ve been a great help with my mallardy.

Doc: You are very welcome.

Paul: I am? Thank you. Goodbye.

Doc: Oh, and by the way.

Paul: Yes?

Doc: There’s the small matter of ‘the bill.’

Paul: The Bill!

Doc: Yes.

Paul (Sighing): I know… I shouldn’t wear it; but, it’s a comfort to me.

Doc: Exactly.

Paul: Doesn’t help does it?

Doc: No.

Paul: I know.

Doc: It hints at an inner insecurity; but, don’t worry, it’s extremely common.

Paul: ‘The Common!’

Doc (sighing): Goodbye, Mr Harry Beaux.

Paul: Quack!!


The original

We Feed the Ducks

We meet at the edge of the pond
For the sake of the ducks
The Ducks must come first
How we love to feed the Ducks

And now the wretched come
With their tracksuits
And their ringtones
They Push Alfred in the pond
They Ride upon Stanley’s mobility scooter
And readjust his adjustable seat
Wendy, bless her she’s not as young as she was
She only succeeds in stabbing and drowning one of the scallywags
The others flee
How they flee
Like the cowards they are
Wendy lets them run
The ducks have their blood offering now

Paul Bailey
February 2013

Breaking: Couple Gets Green Light to be Surgically Conjoined

A tale with a message – maybe of warning G:)

A Multi-Haynaku! #NaPoWriMo

‘Did’ see
A fairy ring

I did
A real one-

Made of daisies;
It was

Upon the ground
Before me.

In a second
It vanished.

I gasped
Then wrote this.

Side by Side – two poems in one (read alternate lines)


Blossom falling from the trees
Why is it that good things come in one’s not threes?
Sunlight cheers, with Winter breeze
And luck is never that good to cancel out my outstanding fees
A chill contender for my soul
I seem to work from to dusk to dawn to fill a hole
It cuts right through, but leaves me whole
My efforts piled up with repetition become a rigmarole.

Writing Haiku doesn’t keep one warm when it is tres cold at the Train Station – I know!


At the train station
Waiting for the Eastleigh train
To take me to work.

It is cold, today;
But, it will warm up later;
Then it will be hot.

It is a ‘Monday!’
The first day of my work week;
As it starts again.

By this time Friday
I will have almost finished
And the week near done.

But, not quite there yet;
Still here on a Monday morn,
With lots yet to go.

“Twenty is Heaven!” #NaPoWriMo


“Twenty is Heaven?”

No, you fool; I said ‘twenty-seven!’
‘You’ are on a holidaze in Devon;
With a soupçon of clotted Cornwall.

“What is that all about?”

Just words; do you ever doubt
That I will throw them at you,
Befeduzzle your brain
Once again?

“I have noticed,” quoth he.
“That ‘that’ is what you…

Yes, I am predictable, in a…

” ‘Predictable’ sort of way?”


“Which is why I juggled with the potential (though improbable) possibility that you were to the mind of statementising that ‘Twenty’ was ‘Heaven!’ ”

Ooh! Get you! Had a dictionary for brekkies? Or two?

“Just being like you – though why I should want to try that, twenty-seven knows!”

Touché once more, mon amis.

” ‘Moan at me?’ ”


NaPoWriMo: Day Twenty-six (Bonus Tanka)

King of the Buses! Yay!






Four smiling buskers
serenading as we eat.
Music to dine for.
Perfect coordination
for a Sunday afternoon.

I have a wonderful volunteering job coordinating happy, smiley buskers for a local Arts venue. I am blessed.

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