Tag Archives: Poem

A poem for a cold and frosty (Friday) morning.

My fingers type

the words;

no hype,

just honest

to goodness

feelings.

Unlike,

in my fingers,

where I have none.

My brain

also

struggles

to keep the warmth

of creative thought alive;

but, there is a glimmer

from an unquenchable ember

that I have

deep in the heart of my being.

Soft Landings

I was after a soft landing,

when I fell from on high;

I didn’t want to die,

in a painful way.

I prayed for a soft landing,

as I fell through the air;

I prayed for twenty mattresses,

arranged… just there.

Hamish’s Journey

Hamish’s Journey

Hamish was squeamish

about going to Dawlish

via Beamish;

he didn’t relish

the thought

at all…

so much so,

that he didn’t go,

he stayed at home in

little Fenwick Stead.

I had an idea

I had an idea

I had an idea

for a poem,

a wonderful poem,

better than all that I have ever written

before…

then I saw a hypothetical squirrel…

… and that poem was no more.

Who Knows

Who Knows

Who knows

what lies beneath,

lives on top,

or dwells within…

… Who is a very intelligent being…

Who knows so much.

Me Ol’ Bamboo

Me Ol’ Bamboo

Me ‘Ol Bamboo

Everything,

it seems,

can now be made

out of bamboo;

pants and socks,

ornamental clocks,

the things they pop on fence posts;

shoes and ties,

traditional mince pies,

a serving hot of French toasts,

and a gazillion other things;

new roof tiles, countryside stiles,

the sound when a telephone rings;

teacups, mugs, a smile and hugs;

there are so many things

I can make and do,

with a little bit of me ol’ bamboo.

“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.