Monthly Archives: April 2022

Furthermore to my recent correspondence—

Furthermore to my recent correspondence,

I wish to add on an additional few lines.

Firstly, upon the manner of my diatribe

against the subject in contention:

I was wrong, you were right,

life is too short for us to fight

over words – no matter how cleverly they are writ.

Secondly, my portrayal of you,

it was a betrayal of the truth,

as neither of us is still in the prime of youth –

so I’ve been told –

in fact: we are both growing ‘old’.

Thirdly, and lastly,

my referring to you as a fossilised being

was wrong,

seeing as I am more decrepit

in every way than you;

true, I am the younger, by months,

and once ran a marathon;

but that was a long, long,


time ago.

I know, I should think before I speak,

or write,

but, I do so hope

that an apology now

will help to put things right.

Yours, in all humility –

and just a little senility –

simply saying ‘Sorry’.

Edwin Hruth (Mr.)

to Alice Hruth

my dearest twin sister.

Seagulls – the look

It’s not how you look at seagulls,

It’s how they look at you

that matters.

They eye you up and down

as you walk past

in their quaint old seaside town.

They quantify and justify

the food that you may hold;

and then they make their strike plan –

would that we should be so bold.

They carry out attacks

to gain their food of choice,

we stand there stunned,

bereft of lunch,

and then we hear their voice:

“Pob-a-Bob!” or “Bob-Pob!”

or some such likened yell;

a laugh they have that mocks us,

but, at least we have a tale to tell.

Except for these—

Except for these words,

which are sacrosanct,

all of my other words

are of little or no value.

Take no heed,

when you read them,

as they are but poor and distant relatives

to the words written by the great writers.

The heroes of yesteryear

are mighty indeed;

and, let me not mislead you

when I say that I

am not worthy to lick their metrical feet,

and can no more compete with them

than a nail recite ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’.

Fade. To nothing. Leaving no trace.

Just a page of empty space.

And so it goes.

Dare I mention—

Dare I mention

that I’m in a different dimension

to most people;

not a parallel one,

but one that only briefly,

for a random second,

tangentially makes contact.

I reckoned that this is due

to me, more than to you;

and, to be perfectly honest,

who knows how to be honest perfectly?

See what I mean?

Could I just say—

Could I just say—

in my defence,

that I am what I am,

and that is a ham poet.

Not ‘ham’ as in the porcine definition,

but ‘ham’ as in ‘ham actor’.

Taking this factor

into account

amounts to not a lot.

Therefore, should you wish

to define me as a cold fish

just remember that I am swimming

in the poetry sea,

and care not to be served up

upon a dish.

Be that as it may…

Be that as it may…

there are thirty days in April,

the same in June,

neither has a middle day.

But, May, having thirty-one,


What does all the above


to do with the price of bananas?

Not a lot really;

but, as I often say,

If I stop talking,

I start thinking…

and then where would I be?

And another thing—

Furthermore, to what has gone before,

I would like to say,

in a roundabout sort of way,

that a ‘forced’ poem

upon my part,

does not work.

I shirk the effort

that is required

to make a turgid and tired

idea seem like new;

few are the times

when my ultimate rhymes

have been manipulated beyond a joke.

Spoke to a man the other day,

his name was Ray,

he had nothing to say.

And on it goes.

It has come to my attention…

I thought that AIW would mention


It has come to my attention,


when I sit down

to try and write a poem,

I end up writing one like this one.

This also happens

when I stand up

to try and write a poem.

Maybe I shouldn’t sit down

or stand up

or write poetry.

Has this sort of thing

come to your attention?

Asking for an imaginary friend –

which, as a poet,

I do have.

Blank Verse

Not a single rhyme

upon the page,

and, unlike buses,

three are not coming along together

any time soon.

Monday Unkown Format – Acrostic

Monday starts the week,

Other days follow Monday,

Nine days in total—

Definitely ‘nine’ I say,

And you only have to count—

Yesterday, and then Today.