Tag Archives: Poem

“Hello! I’m Charli the Flying Chinchilla!”

“Hello! I’m Charli the Flying Chinchilla!”

Charli was a Chinchilla –

and, as I am struggling

to find a rhyme for Chinchilla,

I will ask you this:

‘What do you call a Chinchilla

with no is?’

Answer: a ‘chnchlla!’

Anyway, I don’t know why,

but a Chnchlla

(or a Chinchilla, if you like)

cannot fly

(and, more for information’s sake,

than for anything else,

they are also unable

to ride a bike –

they can’t reach the pedals,

for a start,

change gear,

or apply the brake –

their limbs being quite

short)

and it is thought

that

when they developed from fish

sixty-five million years ago

the absence of bicycles

was a factor in this.

Now, sighing, they often wish

to cycle down country lanes,

atop a two-wheeled contrivance;

or, satisfy their craving

to ride upon

a penny-farthing

over some crazy paving.

However, land-based still

would be the Chnchlla

abreast the two-wheel vehicle;

when what they really want

is to fly

high

in the sky!

Why?

I haven’t a clue –

do I look like a Chnchlla psychiatrist

to you?

I do?

Well, I’m not.

Most Chnchllas

stay firmly Earth-bound

upon the ground

is what long and lengthy

(not to mention ‘costly’ – so I won’t)

research has found.

Until, one day,

not so long ago,

a Chnchlla ran away

to join the circus.

Sung: ‘They fly through the air

with the greatest of ease;

those daring Chnchllas

on the flying trapeze.’

The Rain Fell

The Rain Fell

The rain fell

from sky

to leaf

to me,

as I walked

through

the woods.

G.I.N.G.E.R.

G.I.N.G.E.R.

Ginger

Is

Not

Green –

Ever,

Right?!

The Wampanoag

The Wampanoag

The Wampanoag

isn’t near to extinction,

has never done an unpraiseworthy deed in its non-life;

or won a badge of distinction;

but, has lived a life of blameless charm.

if you ever meet one, please let me know,

what one looks like,

and how big it will grow.

Until then, I shall refrain from purchasing a Wampanoag –

and, by doing so, it will surely do me no harm.

IIRC

IIRC

If I remember correctly

the last laugher laughs longest;

but, I could be wrong –

memory serves me well,

or not,

as it sees fit.

And, IIRC,

he who hesitates

is lost –

or found,

as my feet touch the ground,

or leave it.

Throwaway Haikus

Throwaway Haikus

“Throwaway Haikus

are hardly worth the paper

they are written on!”

“It’s Lemon Thyme!”

“It’s ‘Lemon Thyme!”

Citrus burst fits the rhyme,

as we all shout: “It’s ‘Lemon Thyme!”

Apeel and chime, do the crime;

as we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”

Sail upon the vitamin C,

Herbidacious, obviously,

“Free the Lemons, if they’ve done their time,

and we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”

Limoncello plays the tune,

werewolf howls at light of Moon,

flibberty-gibbet all too soon;

are deciphering an ancient tune,

to be played upon a big bassoon.

“It’s Lemon Thyme!”