Monthly Archives: September 2021


Rosie Craddovk

saved a haddock,

kept it in her bath.


Laura Lee

rescued a flea,

a wompom, and a giraffe.


Richard Tippopotamus…

said he didn’t like animals.


Whether it’s wrong,

or whether it’s right,

less people adopt a black cat,

than adopt a white.


I’d just like to say,

‘The colour doesn’t matter,

just please rescue a poor cat today.’

Today’s Poem


I have to write another one?!

I write one yesterday—

and the day before that!

This is supposed to be fun,


And, now, am I becoming

the interrobang king?!

That’s three so far,

and that seems peculiar

when I, normally,

don’t use them at all.

By the way,

in my dictionary,

pride comes after a fall.

Stick that observation in you pipe

and smoke it?!”

It’s ‘No Haiku Day’ #NoHaiku

Hash-Tag No Haiku, just write something different, and all will be well.

Nothing to see here

Please look away,

there is nothing to see here –

is what I say

when nothing rhymes

and no poetry words are produced

and I am reduced

to making up titles

that are better than the body of work

that I shirk from the writing of.

So, please look away –

I say

that there is nothing here to see.

Thank you.

Seven days of seven Haiku a day – Day 7

Well, it’s nearly done,

just these last seven Haiku,

or Senryu things.


Have I convinced you?

That Haiku and Senryu

are such worthy foes?


Or has this been naff?

So many questions, just for you –

and so few answers.


Anyway you look,

it’s very neatly over,

and you can relax.


In a darkened room,

with a glass of aubergines

or something like that.


Winding down slowly,

and easing off the throttle,

braking gradually.


Driving metaphors –

I ask you, what are they like?

As if that mattered.

‘When climbing the O2’

When climbing the O2

it is essential to take H2O, too,

to drink;

or you might sink

into a dehydration tank

and, then, who would you have to thank?

Whilst climbing, remember,

that when you get to the top …


For continuing might be effort in vain.

And what have you to gain,

when the summit is achieved,

and you have breathed

the higher air …



One day, soon, you will be allowed back down

to the ground,

where the rest of the tired

can be found.

Seven days of seven Haiku a day – Day 6

Day six of seven,

and still no landing in sight –

ahoy there, mateys!


Well, I said ‘silly’,

and, so, silly it has been,

with the odd stale bit.


When I say, ‘stale bit’

I really meant ‘serious’

but it was too long.


So, now here we are,

on the middle Haiku part

and you’re all at sea.


My mixed metaphors

(similar to similes)

can confuse people.


When I say, ‘people’

that may or may not include

someone that you know.


Seventh Haiku starts

in much the same vein, because

that is how I write.

Lost Property Ladder

I was climbing up

the lost property ladder

one day,

when the phone rang.

I stopped upon the very rung

that I had been stepped upon,

and answered the call –

not of Nature, for that would be rude –

no, the call upon my phone.

Luckily, I was a loan,

and could be easily paid off,

by and by – the rate wasn’t too high.

There was nobody there …

just a voice,

asking me questions;

questions that I didn’t know the answers to.

Such as:

How tall is the second tallest giraffe?

Where does a sea end and an ocean begin?

How many are there?

I put the phone down,

and realised I was twenty feet up –

like an upturned twenty-footed creature –

my phone defied gravity

and hung there in mid air …

for all of ‘no’ seconds.

I realised that trying to climb

the Lost Property Ladder

was something an Adder

would shudder at the thought of doing.

So, I climbed back down again.

What an adventure!

Seven days of seven Haiku a day – Day 5

Written in Devon,

and so likely to be poor,

away from my home.


However, I try;

then I give up, try once more;

before giving up.


And starting again;

which did catch me by surprise,

brought tears to my eyes.


So, at four words in,

can you tell the difference

or is it the same?


West of the Tamar

there lays a strange, hidden, land

where all is ajar.


People talk weirdly

with voices not understood

by the best of us.


I think it has failed,

this attempt to Devon write

like everything’s well.

I didn’t know it

I didn’t know it,

but my fuzzy ginger friend

had a helpful hand to lend.

He helped me out of a predicament

by my use of the helping hand he leant;

and it’s plain to see

there was more to him

when there was less of me.