Tag Archives: Elephant

The Giraffe in the Room

“We’re not talking about the giraffe in the room, we’re talking about the elephant in the room; the elephant that everybody has so conveniently chosen to ignore; the elephant that— the giraffe? There is a giraffe in the room? How high is the ceiling? And, more to the point, what’s the giraffe doing here?”

Never Forget to Feed the Elephant in the Room

Never, ever, forget

to feed the elephant;

because, you don’t want

an angry, hungry elephant,

in your house.

A mouse might chew

on your skirting boards

to get through to the other side;

but, you won’t be able to hide

the damage that a ‘phant would do

if they wanted to.

The skirting boards

might be the only things left;

of the rest of the room,

you could well be bereft.

Pizza Oven

Pizza oven

I put my pizza oven

in the corner of the room

because my elephant likes pizza;

but, I had to move the loom;

and the grand piano,

the billiard table, too;

my Moto Guzzi sidecar,

an African canoe;

the Vienna String Quartet,

who were playing by the fire;

and every single member

of the Vienna Male Voice Choir.

Because my elephant loved pizza,

he shrank and disappeared;

and all the musicians hurried back,

they applauded and they cheered;

Occasionally, my elephant,

he comes and visits me,

together we get drunk;

mull about the old times,

we natter ‘til way past three;

but every time he’s in the room,

I think, that maybe he has shrunk;

and maybe one day, in a future time,

he’ll really pack his trunk.

I am the ghost in the machine

I am the ghost in the machine

I am the ghost in the machine,

the elephant in the room,

the fly in the ointment,

the wolf in sheep’s clothing;

and I have a loathing

for what I am.

I am the ghost in the room,

the elephant in the machine,

the wolf in the ointment,

and the fly in sheep’s clothing;

and I have a loathing

of what I have become.

I am the wolf in the room,

the fly in the machine,

the elephant in the ointment,

the ghost in sheep’s clothing;

and I have a loathing for this type of poem,

where the combinations grow

with every word

ever more and more absurd –

I am the septic in the poem,

or should that be sceptic?

Anyway, as I was saying,

I am the poet

in the septic,


No, that’s not right…

I am the poet in the room,

sheepishly wearing wolf’s clothing,

flying in the ghost machine,

whilst coated in ointment…


The Elephant of Surprise.

The Elephant of Surprise.

The Elephant Of Surprise was in the room.

“Hello!” He called from the corner, where he was trying to blend in with little or no success.

“Hello.” I responded, after considering whether a talking elephant was in any way incongruous – an elephant, maybe; but, a ‘talking’ one?

We chatted for a while: I learnt that the ears of an elephant determine whether it is an Indian or an African elephant. The bigger eared elephants are from Africa, the smaller-eared elephants are, therefore, from India.

I taught the elephant a rhyme that involved the word ‘flatter’ with two different meanings.

It was a fine way to spend a morning.

However, after we had got to know each other, the Elephant of Surprise was no longer there.

A Drabble – Elephant in the Rune.

“There is an elephant in here.”

“You said you could read runes!” Bob Rill spoke calmly – inside he fumed at the delay in deciphering the message.

“I can.” responded Arry Stotle, “if they’re from your standard runic alphabet – these are a variation.” Arry returned his attention to the parchment.

Bob looked at Arry’s hunched over form with respect and resentment. He knew Arry was trying his best, but…

“What I mean is… there’s an elephant in the rune? It’s a Mayan Civilisation inscription written in Anglo-Saxon Futhorc runes – where would they get an elephant in the 7th Century BC?

Elephant (in the Room)

It’s hot in here, and moist and dark

It smells like a regular zoological park

The sound of brickbats we can’t ignore

Leave your crocodile tears outside the door

And we just can’t ignore the elephant in the room


You’ve packed your trunk, you’re up for drama

You ticked all of the boxes on your emotional llama

The taxi’s booked, the cub fare’s paid

You’re pulling the pin of an orang-utangrenade

And we dare not ignore the elephant in the room


What it is, you just can’t say

But it’s extremely large, and wrinkly and grey

It’s got two big ears and four stocky legs

And I’d be very surprised if it’s called Fido, and begs.

Who can even begin to ignore the elephant in the room?


And the elephant is a patient being, it would stay there all day

If you don’t look it face to face, and find the words to say

If you just recognised that the elephant is there and waiting

For your attention, there should be no more hesitating.

As, if we do not ignore the elephant in the room, any more…

It may just go away…

And we may just save our marriage…

the carpet…

and the floor.