In the land of Yenom…

In the land of Yenom…

In the land of Yenom

all was topsy-turvey;

the Slemacs and the Snobbigs

ate potatoes for the scurvy;

the hurdy-gurdy salesman

couldn’t carry off a tume;

but the little six of Sdnomaids

sang sweetly to the Noom.


I’m Not Shakespeare – a song (W.I.P.)

I’m Not Shakespeare – a song (W.I.P.)

I’m not Shakespeare

But, I’m the closest thing you’ve got;

My name’s not William

but I write an awful lot

just like he did

when he was alive;

I’m not Shakespeare

and my latest work

is Veronese Gentlemen 5.

My Stick Stock (and other animals)

My Stock Stock (and other animals)

My stick stock

has been depleted;

Napoleon was defeated –

where did he keep his armies?

Answer: up his sleevies.


I was…

I was drowning when I wrote this,

please excuse me if the words are blurred…

I was there at Bosworth Field

when I waved ‘goodbye’ to Richard the Third.

I was lonely as a cloud

approached me and it asked the way;

I didn’t know where I was,

so I sent him off to Carbis Bay.

Off to Looe Island

Off to Looe Island

Off to the island,

an adventure to find;

a voyage by boat;

we love when we float;

(we think)

we wouldn’t like it

if we were to sink.

In the Garden

In the Garden

On any given Sunday

(for they are truly ‘given’)

you can find a person

(not a parson – they will be in a church)

in the garden;

or, if they are not there,

then they shall be found somewhere else.

I can say no more than this,

as even saying this

has stretched my resources

to near breaking.

PS this is not a poem

(even if it looks like one).

Who Am I?

Who Am I?

Who am I

to spoil

the sanctity

of the unblemished page?

Why, I am the writer…

… of course.