Tag Archives: #poetry. #poem

Chasing Butterflies

Click below to see the words with a picture – G:)


I’m chasing butterflies,

though it’s not allowed,

under the auspices

of a wandering cloud.



Who to pay?

Who to pay?

It’s not the monkey

it’s the organ-grinder,

not the ferryman,

but the coffee-grinder;

not the celebrity,

but the celebrity-minder,

that you have to pay.

But, don’t!

They won’t thank you


Green Tissues

Green Tissues

These… are white tissues.

These, on the other hand,

are green tissues –

sorry, it is green ‘issues’

that I am supposed to speak upon;

they are the big tissues of the day

sorry, ‘issues’, I should say;

Tom The Seagull @Looe

Tom The Seagull @ Looe

Tom The Seagull,

What a catch,

round by the crabb pot

meets his match;

there is Anna

eating chips,

they pair up

and watch the ships

and boats upon the river;

but Anna she won’t share her fare;

she’s a taker, not a giver.

Mop-Up Operation

Mop-Up Operation

We prepared for a spillage;

whilst listening to Steve Hillage

and reading a book about the Saxons

who practiced, well, you know what…

But all was well,

so we put our mops away –

it was going to be a good day.

The Box

The Box

The box was round,

levitated three-feet off the ground,

cost me a pound,

but the neighbours still frowned

at it –

and who can blame them.

And the Onion Rings a Bell

And the onion rings a bell.

And the onion rings a bell.

Annabelle Lee

married a flea

They both lived happily together.

Annabelle was a witch

Had a seven-year itch

and sold unlucky heather.

The flea was here,

the flea was there;

he often sat on a wicker chair

One day,

a knight and his squire

rode on into the town.

The knight was young,

the squire old;

they had tarnished armour,

be they never so bold.

Annabelle Lee

abandoned her flea,

and ran off with Sir Cuthbert

(for that was the knight’s name)

the squire thus left,

he felt bereft,

and then a tickling in his right ear.

The flea said, “Squire?

Are you for hire?

I need a lift to the town.”

The squire replied,

“I’ll give you a ride,

to fetch yon bride,

that with Sir Cuthbert has recently flown,

where is his pride?”

The flea and the squire

set off at once,

through the winds, the rain, the snow,

as fast as their eight legs would go;

they travelled up hill,

and travelled down dale,

their task, it did seem,

was likely to fail;

as they’d set off in completely the wrong direction.

but, after a little course correction,

they did reach the town,

where the squire fell down

in a tiredness from all of his travels;

but the flea was fresh,

the flea was fit,

the flea did seek where Annabelle

and Sir Cuthbert did Sit,

and he challenged the knight to a duel;

the noble knight laughed

to see such a one

and said, “You’re a fool,

if you think you’re a match for a knight!”

the flea Felt ire at his laughter,

determined to win at all costs;

sharpened his sword,

and without warning word

did fling himself at the knight’s chest;

the knight parried once,

then parried he twice,

the flea was much stronger than thought;

the battle was fought,

the flea did win;

and Sir Cuthbert the knight,

he had to give in,

and return Annabelle to her home,

never more would Annabelle roam.

And the onion rings another bell.