Tag Archives: #AsIWasGoingTo

As I am (slowly) going to St. Ives …

As I ‘am’


going to St. Ives

the fear and trepidation within me thrives,

for waiting there

for me to come

is a creature fierce

that will strike me dumb.

I cannot name that fearsome beast,

nor describes its features, least-

-ways, I could,

but doing so

would do no good,

for then the fear

would within ‘you’ rise,

and terror seep into your eyes.

Needless to say,

I just might not survive

this terminous day.

As I was going to Saint Ives…

As I was going to Saint Ives…

I met a policeman collecting knives,

pieces of string, and that sort of thing;

nuclear devices and an incendiary rocket;

all the types of device I carry in a pocket.

As I was going to Saint Ives

I was stopped by a policeman collecting knives.

As I was (not) going to St. Ives

As I was (not)

going to St. Ives,

I thought I’d think upon my many lives;

the one where I was just a newt;

that season hanging as a fruit;

the lifetime spent waiting for Godot’s what;

the shortest day, as a Mayfly,

that I’d almost forgot;

the long half-of-an-hour trying vainly to survive;

or the hundred and twenty short years when Moses was alive;

and afternoons drinking gaily with my pals;

or night-time flights with a school of owls;

the briefest tenure as a living thing;

or a long, long, life sowing, then harvesting,

then sowing and harvesting,

as my father and son, wife and daughter,

had, and have, for centuries, done.

Having thought upon my many lives,

I then thought about all the times,

I had actually gone

to St. Ives.


As I was going to… have to explain the difference between St. Ive and St. Ives.

As I was going to…

have to explain this matter

at some point or the other,

why not do it now?

I will.

I’ll tell you how

I differentiate between the two,

because someone might think that they are one

and the same –

perhaps that someone might be you?

St. Ive is a small 4-Part village

in South East Cornwall

situated between

Liskeard and Callington,

that’s where it is usually seen –

it is also pronounced to rhyme with leave,

weave, and Adam and Eve.

St. Ives is down near the toe

of Cornwall,

there on the North Coast it lies;

in a beautiful seaside setting

with shops and cafés,

and all manner of seaside things,

not forgetting that there is nursery rhyme

to help you pass your holiday time.

‘As I was going to St. Ives

I met a man with seven wives…’

and so on.

The trouble is,

St. Ive


quite like

St. Ives;

but, they are not really the same,

they just have a similar ‘looking’


Why it isn’t St. Ive

St. Eve…?

well, only my friend Steve

could answer that –

but, he would be wrong.

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

St. Ive,

I checked my pockets for a tanner,

a fiver,

but, for a bus fare,

I never even had a stiver.

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

… pieces

… say earlier

…. write to my nieces

… act less churlier

… correct your grammar

… cease and desist

… clean my hammer

… make a list

I thought I would

go there


As I was going to…

And you thought I wouldn’t go there…


As I was going to…

St. Ive

I thought,


when I get there

I’ll never leave;

but, who’s to say

whether I’ll stay,

I change my mind

most every day –

as is my wont –

so who’d be surprised,

if maybe I don’t.

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

give this one last shot,

then give this one last shot

I shall.

I shall not

be writing anymore

‘As I was going to…’

poems (or prose) –

and that is for sure.

Until, a while has passed –

and I know not

how long a ‘while’ is.

But, bathe in the knowledge,

that it is now safe

to come our of the closet,

and read my works

once again.

However, as I did mention before,

I shall now spend

the rest of the month

posting the same poem

with different titles –

won’t that be fun?

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

Aka ‘The Downfall of Pushing a wheelbarrow from John O’Groats to Land’s End’

A man pushed a wheelbarrow from John O’Groats to Land’s End;

he didn’t go from Land’s End to John O’Groats because that was all uphill; so it was from John O’Groats to Land’s End that he pushed his wheelbarrow, there proudly in front of him (not a euphemism). Upon reaching Land’s End, he found that he had forgotten to check the brakes on the wheelbarrow, and they both went over the edge, landing in the English Channel, where he was eaten by krill.

A true story.

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

mention earlier…

in another dimension…

a long time ago –

thanks to time travel –

two warring fractions

were at each other’s throats;

planes were taken off the menu,

boats were free lunched;

(other forms of transport

were available)

and all this writing

got out of hand.

As you can see,

not everything

that I write

has perfect clarity.