Did I do it right?
Did I? Or did I do wrong?
I did right? Splendid!
Did I do it right?
Did I? Or did I do wrong?
I did right? Splendid!
Posted in Poetry
There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, dear Peter;
There’s a hole in my t-shirt, dear Peter, a hole!
I’ve only had it two decades, dear Peter, dear Peter,
I’ve only had it two decades, now it’s got a hole.
It says it’s forever, dear Peter, forever;
Two decades is not forever, dear Peter, no, no.
Graeme:)
Posted in Poetry
One and one is.
Whereas,
One minus one isn’t.
Nothing multiplied
By anything
Is still nothing;
And, conversely,
Anything multiplied by nothing
Is also nothing.
“Nothing will come of nothing!” spake King Lear.
He wasn’t much of a king at the end;
But, he still knew some maths
(Although dividing one by three was the worst sum he ever tried).
Posted in Poetry
A Bit Gilbert & Sullivany? (Leader of the Queen’s Navy)
Of all the world that I’ve yet to see
There are sev’ral far off places that do call to me
I long to see Venice and the Isle of Man;
Krakatoa, Peckham High Street, old Japan;
Bermondsey, Wandsworth, Epping, Crewe
Cape St. Vincent and Timbuk, too!
Posted in Poetry
I am not a Solent Poet!
I shall be heard,
Wherever I am!
I have crossed the Tamar,
And Kernow is now my home
And how!
I am not a Solent Poet
But, I was.
And, I suppose,
Even when it’s really noisy,
A little part of me
Will always have
Solent’s.
Posted in Poetry
Jane has a big heart and cares –
please read this and maybe things
can get better – Grae
I do not have a physical disability. My sister is in a wheelchair, as is my partner’s sister, and whilst the issue I’m addressing in this blog does not affect them directly, nobody knows what the future holds.
First, a disclaimer. This blog is not written in my professional capacity. All opinions are personal.
I’m a social media officer for a mobility equipment provider, and monitor the internet for relevant ‘mentions’. This has brought to me an awareness of the need for Changing Places facilities.
Changing Places are accessible toilets. Not the general kind of toilet you find here, there and everywhere that only complies with Doc M regulations. Changing Places are truly accessible toilets, with changing benches for larger children and adults and hoists.
Think about these two scenarios for a moment.
You are the parent of a…
View original post 426 more words
Posted in Poetry
“Se-ver-al Ci-vil Ser-vice sil-ver sal-vers!” she said, slowly, salaciously, seditiously.
“Several!” said Sir Cyril Sissington-Smythe, severely.
“Sì, Signore Cy-ril!” Sonia Sanchez-Sans-Sevilla, Sir Cyril’s Spanish Secretary, asserted seductively. “Se-ver-al.”
Sir Cecil sighed – it was going to be another of those exasperating Esperanto Wednesdays.
Posted in Poetry
Subtitle: Eaten By Cats
All through her life
She was eaten by cats;
‘Feed them,
Water them
(so they grow)’
She gave them names
So she’d know
which was which;
Toys she supplied
And scratching posts, too;
She had more big cats
Than the tiniest zoo.
And as she grew older
The cats came and went
She replaced a lost ‘kitty’
With a ‘kitty’ from Kent
(Oh, yes, she adopted them, too!)
And the numbers increased
There were dozens and more;
She kept fifty in the house
And had another fifty at the door.
Then, one day, she died;
And the cats were not fed:
“Feed us, Feed us! Here and now!”
Which is what they were saying with their ‘Me-ow, meow!” It is said.
The cats did ask
The cats did beg
Until one hungry tabby
Sniffed hungrily at a leg…
On a velocipede made for one – somewhere in England in the mid 1870s.
“Straddle the saddle
Paddle and skedaddle
Until into a staddle
Stone you do ride!”
Ouch! And all are
Cross, bar none.
The staddle-stone owner
Was none to happy;
Though, normally, a happy sort of chappy;
But, the cyclist – a loner
And, now a pain-groaner
Had naddled his grunions – he had!
He later spoke much of his choice
In buying this ‘thing’
And in such a high voice
That the glassware did ring –
And a Champagne flute broke
From the strain.
Our Velocipedist did the Anglo-Saxon language enlist
To describe how he felt when he’d landed;
The ladies did blush
The Gentlemen present said “Hush!”
And a ‘scallywag type’ he was branded.
The Velocipede of this injured chap’s mishap,
Was bartered for scrap;
And was never to set sail again;
For the man with high voice
Waited for Messrs. Rolls and Royce
To invent something that was not quite such a pain.
Posted in Poetry
I have seen the dancing people,
They love to move before the fire;
And when the flames are roaring bright,
Then the people dance with much desire;
And when the flames die down and fade,
The dancing people
To rest are laid.
Posted in Poetry