Tag Archives: #nonsense

“There’s a lot of it about!”

“There’s a lot of it about!”

Out is not


and In

is not Out.

Be aware, of this viewpoint;

for there are dissenters about ,

who swear that the difference between Black and White

is a Grey area…

that Left is Right –

when seen from an opposing direction;

and nothing can become something –

as in when you add words to a blank page…

like in this case.


Starch Art

Starch Art

What is this Starch Art that I hear of?

How does that work?

I thought that Starch was just for stiffening stuff;

and I haven’t seen any Starch Art in the galleries that I haven’t frequently frequented.

Perhaps it’s very minimalist,

or just not that good.

Maybe it’s a new thing

that hasn’t been about that long.

Who knows?

I don’t – and I’m a Leo.

The Zing in May

The Zing in May

The Zing

in May

is a wonderful thing;

quite literally

it is

a May Zing!

“One Pun Too Few?”

“One Pun Too Few?”

“We live in the “Duchy”not the “Ducky’” i said.

But, he was still chortling over “The Duckys!” comment that he had overused to the point of distraction.

That’s the thing about Grae, he never quite knows when a joke has gone past it’s ‘Best by…’ date. And ‘Use before…’ also, makes little sense to him.

No wonder he is often greeted by the blank stares of incomprehension, and then had to climb up them, reaching the very top, only to find, that at the bottom of the stares had been the place to stop.

And on with the next pun, please.

“Man goes, in a fruit shop….”

One day at the auction…

One day at the auction…

At auction,

I bought a folding fruit knife –

it was a bargain at eighteen pounds.

Since then,

I’ve been doing the greengrocer rounds…

but, I have been unable to find

any folding fruit

it’s driving me out of my mind

and pushing me down the chute.

Impulse buying?



Well, I haven’t yet found

any impulse to buy.

An Incident Involving a Dragon.

An Incident Involving a Dragon.

The Dragon flew out of the West;

a direction which surprised me, at best.

I’d been watching the North for a week and a day;

I was certainly thinking he’d be flying that way.

But, he’d circled around;

Surprise was a weapon he had,

And when he arrived

He various townspeople fried;

Unhappy they were to flambé.

As they say, ‘All dragons are awfully bad!’

“When is a Pilchard?”

“When is a Pilchard?”

“When is a Pilchard?”

When is a Pilchard not a Sardine?

When is a Herring a kipper?

When is a Cod not a present from God?

Should I ask me a fishing-boat skipper?

And what are Bloaters and Bucklings?

What is this fish that I see?

And why is it swimming off sideways,

has it some Crab in It’s fish ancestry?

Is there a place where good fishes do go?

To waggle their fins when they’re weary,

Do they head off to school?

Do they know about snow?

Do they call other fishes ‘my deary?’

When they swim in the sea,

do they think about me,

and write poems on beings with legs?

Do they sing of our ways,

as upon us they gaze?

an answer to these question begs.

“How goes the day? Swimmingly?”