Tag Archives: #poetry. #poem

Verbal Garbage


It’s what I spout out!

My words (not mine, just borrowed)

thrown together

like a last-minute picnic,

determined to make

all attendees squirm

at the fare provided.


Verbal Garbage

only destined for the bin,

with much correctness left out

and such errors, as can be used,

left in.

Who can forget Rupert the Bear?

Who can forget Rupert,

Rupert the Bear?

Who, indeed?

I did.

Along with Yogi, Boo Boo, Barney, Biffo…

… and all the anthropomorphic bear characters

that are, were, or will be.

Bear with…

I saw a Lofthatch today

I saw a lofthatch today,

Originally I thought it was a nuthatch but I was wrong;

You could tell by its lack of plumage that it wasn’t a nuthatch.

Forebears or Threebears?

Or is it threebears?

I can’t tell the difference;

I can bearly count.

Bear Haiku

A bear, in the woods,

just might be up to no good;

like their forbears were.

April 2023 – themed poems #NaPoWriMo

What can I write about for the 30 days?

Can I phase myself to do this?

Can Grae’s mind find such stuff

(as poems are made on)?

Can you help me with my theme?

Or is this all going to be an undreamt dream?


Please comment on what you think I ‘might’ be able to write upon – many TIAs. G:)

Do you think…?

Do you think

we’ll ever get the hang of this?

I don’t think;

not any more.

Why not?

Is it the height?

That and other things:

like us, puppet-like,on strings,

hanging above a distance of…


And seeing the knots,

that you tied,

above us,

coming loose.

‘Beware the Ideas of March!’ – Revisited!

‘Beware the ideas of March!’

an old woman once said to me.

‘Seize her!’ I had cried,

tears falling from my eyes.

And, yet, I still had ideas,

above and beyond my station,

which caused my desecration

by a dozen or so knives –

after the first few I wasn’t counting –

amounting to my demise.

‘Et tu, Brute?’

I managed, before I croaked;

‘No, I ate them all!’ Brutus, he joked.

Luckily, his reply was lost to me.

I had not seen my ending coming,

sore that it was,

and, so I did concur

that my life was completed

with such ‘infamy’ –

I should have listened to her.

Come into the garden, Maud – a song

Come into the garden, Maud,

for the black-backed gull, has flown;

come into the garden, Maud,

I don’t want to be alone.


My gull had kept me company,

a bag of chips for one, for two, or threeeee-

come into the garden, Maud,

even though the chips have gone.

Another Day?

Another day

in a long succession of days,

each following the last,

and preceding the next;

when will it ever end?