Top row: nine, three, six;
middle row: seven, four, five;
bottom row: one, eight… ?
NB
You need to place all
the numbers from one to nine
in the right places.
The last leaf on the tree,
that’s me;
the others left home,
forgot about me;
never write, never call –
once the tree was family,
once the tree was all.
I am the
last
leaf on the tree.
Excuse me a minute,
I’m on my phone
(as you can probably see)
I know it’s rude
but, I shall atone;
I’m just writing down an idea
that just this very moment
came to me;
it’s amazingly good,
at least,
I
think so;
well, I’m me.
so I would.
And, I know, that
you
would hate
me
to lose what may prove to be
the best idea
that I’ve had to date…
Oh, no,
it’s gone,
I was just a little too late.
I’m in Hannafore.
“What for?” you ask.
To practice my semaphore,
whilst wearing my new pinafore,
that I’ve never worn before,
at least, not before dawn before.
Then I’m off to Looe.
“What there to do?” you ask.
To do what a man just has to do;
he has to see a sea-going gull, or two,
or maybe a couple of thousand –
there are countless, to be sure;
and I’m sure I counted seventeen,
and there were many, many more.
Later, I went back to Hannafore,
to practice my semaphore,
whilst still wearing my new pinafore,
as I had so recently done before.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Hannafore, #Looe, #nonsense, #poetry. #poem, #silly, Cornwall
Out from the pyramid
the mummy came;
with her curse, her crozier,
her unpronounceable name:
Queen Nefertarititiakhenatenamunra…
the Third,
who wished she’d been called Susan,
Nora,
or Thora…
Hird.
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