Coffee is an aphrodisiac

“Coffee is an aphrodisiac!”

said a local man named, Doug;

he had a dog,

whose name was ‘Dog’,

and he had a frog,

whose name was frog –

a man of little or no imagination was our Doug;

but, the words he gave out

inspired me to write,

to create a poem of such stature,

that—

well, actually it was a haiku?

and here it is:

Aphrodisiac,

it’s a five syllable word

that’s too seldom heard.

I know…

I know

I know nothing;

which means…

I know something

and not nothing,

as I had, until recently, thought.

There was no…

There was no K.I.C.K,

in my Ginger Beer,

and I have to say

that the taste was queer.

*May Contain

This poem may contain

traces of irony,

a little Shelley,

no Keats, whatsoever,

and what beats a huge dollop of Byrony?

Or it may not.

It may be considered complete and utter rot –

by those in the know,

and connoisseurs of real poetry

might turn in their graves –

even if they are still alive and kicking,

leaving little or no room for sensible critiquing –

whatever that is.

Always look beyond the cake

Always look beyond the cake,

there is more to life than cake;

there is sea and sun

and cake;

love and laughter

and cake;

family and friends

and cake.

Okay, there is cake

and other things, too.

Hole

There’s a hole in my sock –

yes, there is.

I don’t know how it got there –

but, there it is.

I’ll hide it with a shoe

if it’s all the same to you –

there’s a whole,

lot of explaining,

unless I do.

DON’T

ALLI

ASK’S:

DON’T

DISS

THIS

MASK.

Why did the dragonfly flee?

The dragonfly, whose name was Flo,

had an itch, she scratched it so,

it was a flea, ‘It’ll have to go!’

But a tiny flea is hard to find,

it’s always, always upon your mind;

and with great big claws,

and fiery breath,

Flo burnt and scratched herself to death.

.

‘But, that’s so sad!’ I hear you cry,

‘Why did poor Flo have to die?’

Truth be told, she never existed,

my creative writing a creature enlisted –

tales are told of made up things,

fleas with kites, dragonflies with swings

and in other far off made-up stories,

upon different days,

Flo and the flea,

just parted ways.

.

And a point you make

upon my tale:

‘It was a dragonfly,

and not a dragon,

have you been sipping from the flagon,

swigging too much ale?’

‘You caught me out!’

I drunkenly reply,

‘But, when was the last time you saw a dragon fly,

perhaps fleas are the reason why.’

Carpe Compendium!

“Seize the games!”

Is what I’d shout

if ancient Romans

were in any doubt

as to my madness.

.

I’m sorry to say

that I missed the day

when the Romans ruled the world

(well, an awful lot of it);

but, if I had been there

I might not be here now

telling you how

I’d have made myself look

an absolute fool

by shouting loudly

‘A shatterproof rule!’

See Saw – a tongue-twister?

I saw the sea-saw,

and the see-saw saw me;

I went to sea,

and I saw that the see-saw went to see, too;

At sea, I saw the sea,

and I saw that the see-saw see the sea, too;

I met Saucy Sue at sea,

and I saw the see-saw meet Saucy Sue at sea – didn’t you?