Author Archives: Words from a Lentil Institution

The Cheesewring (Cornish ‘Keuswask’)

The Cheesewring,

on Stowe’s Hill,

can’t sing,

isn’t made of cheese,

and has no visible knees.

Yet, it exists,

upon a hill,

still – very still.

Is a Haiku mathematical?

You might as well ask:
What if 5+7+
5= poem?!

Gulls: Jacks or Jills?

You can tell by the gills

of the gulls

whether they are Jacks

or Jills.

Unless gulls don’t have gills.

I have checked:

a gull has no gills,

they are not fish,

and, probably, never were.

The plumage is the thing

to catch the gender of the… gull.

But, even then, only an expert,

or a very experienced non-expert

can truly tell.

Well, who knew? Not I,

not you.

They used to be called Mews,

and went around in ones or twos –

that was long, long, long ago,

and they are now called that

by nobody

that I know.

But, if you hear a poet

saying that his muse has left him (or her)

it might (but shouldn’t) occur

to you

that he is talking about

his gull.

That scenario

I have to doubt.

Poetry for Beginners

Ned: Poetry? I thought it was ‘Puppetry for Beginners’.

Ed: Me, too, Bud!

Ned: I can’t do poetry.

Ed: And if you can’t do poetry, it’s a sure thing that I can’t.

Teacher: Well, Poetry it is, for Beginners it is, and about to start it is.

Ned: Are there ‘no’ puppetry classes?

Teacher: There’s not much call for them around here. There’s not much call for poetry, but just enough to run a class.

Ed: I think he needs poetry like he needs a hole in his head – like the one I’ve got.

Ned: Now come on, Ed, it was an honest mistake.

Ed: Like the time you locked me in the suitcase for three months while you had an ‘existential crisis!’

Ned: I came back for you, didn’t I?

Ed: Eventually! One could go crazy stuck in a suitcase for three months – I almost knew what Schrödinger’s cat must have felt like.

Ned: And how was that?

Ed: Bored stiff!

Teacher: Class starts in two minutes, shall I have the pleasure of your presence?

Ned: Not for me, I hate poetry.

Ed: I’ll give it a go.

Ned: Without me?

Ed: Well, I’ve always wanted to go it alone,

and poetry is something I could own,

you might not want in,

and that is no sin,

but my poetry I can hone.

Ned: Poetry for Dummies?

Ed: Yup! See you after class.

Ned: Good luck with it.

Ed: Thanks.

Ned leaves.

Teacher: Right, let’s get on with the lesson…


I was going to write

a short poem about Saturday,

but that would have been dreary,

like the weather outside.


So, I shall write a poem

about a Saturday from the past,

a day of sunshine

that all day did last.


It was sunny at dawn,

and when the sun set;

I hadn’t seen a day as sunny as that –

and I haven’t seen another one yet.


Not a drop of rain

from Land’s End to Groats,

calm were the seas,

with their small sailing boats;


and children did play,

and everyone laughed,

the breeze was quite gentle,

not considered a draught.


And everyone remembers

where they were on that day,

in 1976,

on the thirty-eighth day of May.

Octobert – a deliberately ‘bad’ poem

Octobert had eight legs,

and they were hairy;

for thirty one days of the year.


Octobert, being a spider,

with eight hairy legs,

was considered.quite scary by some.


By merely his presence,

screams were observed,

as the people ran to the hills.


Octobert inspired great fear;

but, alas, not great poetry –

as you can tell from reading the above.

A seagull outstanding in his field

It has recently been revealed,

that, a seagull, standing all alone, in his field,

is one in a million,

or more,

or less,

more or less.

My family were,

for a long time,

Agricultural Labourers,

and were outstanding in their field.

But that is by the by,

I don’t know why,

but it is.

So, these words

are just that,

put in this order,

and then thrown into a cocked hat –

whatever that means.

Me – a 10-minute SoCS write for Linda G Hill’s prompt.

See here for Linda G Hill’s website and prompts

Me. I, Myself? What can I possibly say that will convince you to choose between the three of them? You may love Me, be passionate about I, or still have deep feelings for Myself, but will you be able to whittle down the three to just the one?

I knows you for what you are, and you don’t fool Me, let alone your being cared for by Myself.

You and I? Me and someone like You? Myself, I would protect you from Myself, unlike Me.

Me and his shadow, I and another like Him, Al by Myself, seeking insider information?

You tell Me. And I shall be Here beside Myself. I cannot tell You, or so he told Me. As to Myself, I cannot understand Myself, and He cannot understand Me. She doesn’t believe in Me, and I understands Me only too well. Tell You Me this: should I work it out for Myself, or He for Me?

What I really wants to know is, when it comes to Me, is He actually working for Himself? Or am I?

You may understand all of this, but I has lost the plot, and He really hasn’t ever known what was going on. Myself, I liked, but He hates Me.

Never turn your back on Middle Earth

‘’Never turn your back on Middle Earth’

he almost sang;

but I altered it a tad,

as I do,

because that is what I do.

I tweak, and adjust, just a little,

to make a new and,

possibly, improved version.

Who really knows?

The Haiku can be…

The Haiku can be

a tricky form to master –

Ed Reardon said so.