Category Archives: Poetry

“New!” ‘Plays With Words!’

“New!” ‘Plays With Words!’

As opposed to a mime act

where nobody speaks

and nobody is heard –

not a single word.

No. What I meant was,

playing with words;

using them in different ways;

creating new, never before seen,

or heard, words.

Take ‘Badriomaku’ for instance.

It didn’t exist, and then it did.

Now it one if the top thirty trillion words barely in use today – impressive, huh?

Make yourself a new word today – you know you want to.

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Solly the Dover Sole #SoCS @LindaGHill

Solly the Dover Sole

#SoCS @LindaGHill

Prompt: Soul / Sole

See Linda’s Site here for more info

Solly was a lonely soul; being the last Sole in the sea. He swam around in the English Channel, a Dover Sole was he. He swam around other places , too – he believed in swimming diversity, ever since he was at school, and all through university.

He sought a like-minded Sole to be his soul-mate; but, he couldn’t find a single Sole, Solly got into a state.

Swimming the seas from Britain to France, Dover to Calais, Solly sought a Sole called Sally; but she had fled, a tad too late, and ended up upon a ceramic plate with a slice of lemon upon her head – in one short word, Sally was dead. Sad face.

Solly didn’t know this, he couldn’t read; he hadn’t learnt, didn’t heed his mum’s advice to learn the Classics, Plato, Dickens, Agatha Christie – where the plot thickens, like gravy or a Béchamel Sauce ladled upon a fish who is now a main course. Sad face with tear.

Solly swam up and down; with a happy face (not) that resembled* a frown (because it was) until he met Annette. Very Sad Face with Tears.

*10-minute timer went off here. Sad face.

Moisture

Moisture

Pour a bucket of water over my head and have done with it!

Why do you have to keep adding insult to injury?

I only wanted a dry day for a change – and what happens?

Yup! Another rain cloud poised above me, the moment that I venture forth, disposes of its contents upon little, old me.

Radio Real

Radio Real

Dee: I’m not sure what we should call it. I’ve thought of a few names: ‘The Smooth Sunday Show’, ‘The Soft Sunday Show’…

Jay: It’s not a range of toilet-rolls!

Dee: True. How about ‘The Sensuous Sunday Show’? Bit too exotic?

Jay: No, leave it to me, I have the ideal name.

ON AIR (the next Sunday)

GRAMS: Radio Reality Jingle

Dee: Hi, I’m Dee, and I’d like to welcome you to, ‘The Alliterative Sunday Show!’

Lost: Fish

Lost: Fish

I lost my fish in the ocean,

I couldn’t find it anywhere;

and then I had a notion:

I would scan all the fish

when they swam past,

until, at last, I would find my fish –

and I know I would,

as I had had him chipped.

A Picture On The Wall

‘A Picture on the Wall’ LWG prompt for 19/03/2019

A picture

is not a permanent fixture;

whether it is upon a canvas

upon a wall,

or painted directly upon a surface;

The Last Supper

will not last forever

and may be renamed

The Lost Last Supper.

Pictures painting a thousand words

are not always exactly at a thousand – at least, that is my thought upon the phrase.

‘A picture can paint a lot of words’

may, technically, be more apt –

but less apposite.

Thinking About Dates

Thinking About Dates

No, not the calendar ones,

but the ones grown on trees,

and used in Date and Walnut cakes,

or the like.

Everybody remembers their first date.

Where they were,

Who they were with

(or with whom they were with)

and why.

But, nowadays, it seems

that nobody really gives a fig.