Spring Collection (for any day)

The weather yesterday reminded me of this poem:

Grey upon Grey.’

Grey upon grey,

the next layer,

even greyer,

than the one before,

a mixture twixt mizzle and mist,

with heighth, and width, and depth,

all eager to show… nothing,

to hide all,

and live for the moment

in total concealment,

avoiding avidly prying eyes

and random inquisitive glances.


Including the word ‘random’ in my poetry also lead me to this one:

Another Flower.’

I saw another


and another,

in a hedgerow

but, not in a row,

randomly spread

out and about;

they caught my eye;

the colourous shades

made an impression,

so I,

made a digression,

and took

a closer look.


And, even more random, is this:

Random Fandom’

Random Fandom

is a thing…

that poets seldom get;

but, once, and,

maybe not even then,


was admired from afar,

considered a star,

given a ‘Hussah!’



have never forgotten the moment…

when I made that up.


this ‘random’ occurrence happened to me just over a year ago (when I was just over a year younger): I give you:

Charles Darwin is alive and well (and living in Cornwall)’

I saw Charles Darwin

in Liskeard, today;

he was the front-seat passenger

in a random Chevrolet;

he was looking good

for all of his years;

with an even longer white beard

and those tufts in his ears.


Not including the word ‘random’, but ‘random’ would be a very good word to describe this next poem, here is:

‘Poetry to goetry’

Some people like their poetry

to eat in,

they don’t want to take it away,

‘No way, José!’

they say,

‘If we can’t sit down and enjoy it,

we’ll leave it for another day!’


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