Tag Archives: Poetry

4 and 20 Black and White Birds Baked in a Pie – Recorded Audio from my phone (and a translation).

I saw a pie in a magazine a cookery magazine so I bought that mag I carried home the magazine and a 5p bag I saw that in the pie recipe there there are four and 20 black and white birds I stopped and I did stare black and white birds baked in a pie oh no no no no no why when the pie seems to be opened the birds will begin to sing there’s a thing I still think it’s cruelty to bake for and 20 black and white birds in a pie I have to write and ask the magazine why

—//—

I saw a pie in a magazine

a cookery magazine,

so I bought that mag,

I carried home the magazine in a 5p bag;

I saw that in the pie recipe there were four and twenty black and white birds—

I stopped and I did stare…

‘black and white birds baked in a pie!’

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, why?

When the pie seems to be opened,

the birds will begin to sing – there’s a thing.

I think it’s cruelty to bake four and twenty black and white birds in a pie –

I just have to write and ask the magazine why.

As I was going to…

And you thought I wouldn’t go there…

again.

As I was going to…

St. Ive

I thought,

perhaps,

when I get there

I’ll never leave;

but, who’s to say

whether I’ll stay,

I change my mind

most every day –

as is my wont –

so who’d be surprised,

if maybe I don’t.

As I was going to…

As I was going to…

Steve’s,

I took a wrong turning,

and went to St. Ives,

where I met a man

who had had many many wives

(None of them his own –

the naughty man)

and each wife

had a bone to pick,

and each bone was

a quarter inch thick,

and each quarter inch

wasn’t really that thick…

Man, wives, bones, thicks…

How many people we’re going to Steve’s?

Lockdown Rap – #PureNonsense

Lockdown shockdown

Breakdown shakedown

Fake crown – hat!

Lookdown shookdown

Makefrown takedown

Wakedown – cat!

Boreddown nowfrown

lookdown sockdown

clowndown – that!

Sleeper (Cryptic Messages)

Undercover,

I rehearse the lines

that will take me to the stage;

character assassination

is not my thing,

but under the duvet

I will know

if it is Christmas

or not.

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.

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.

Random Fandom

Random Fandom

Random Fandom

is a thing…

that poets seldom get;

but, once, and,

maybe not even then,

I,

was admired from afar,

considered a star,

given a ‘Hussah!’

and,

I,

have never forgotten the moment…

when I made that up.

“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.’

Stand Up Poetry

Stand Up Poetry

I have to stand up…

“recite” poetry…

and try and make that poetry…

‘funny!’

Well, that’s my task…

and all I can ask

is: that ‘you – the audience –

try to do your best

and invest

applause and laughter

soon after my words

(even if they don’t make much sense).

It’s all reciprocal.

You scratch my scratch-card;

and I’ll scratch your scratch-card –

how hard can it be?

You see,

it’s not rocket science –

but, poetry, is not a white-goods appliance.

And… furthermore…

what on Earth is a BYOB?

It’s an acronym

of that I’m sure;

but, my interpretation,

is possibly not the same as yours…

Big Yellow Oranges – Beware!!

Begin Yawning? – Out! Begone!

Bring Yachts – Overboard Banter!

Beware Yetis – Ours Barks!

Or even Bring Your Own…

Boudoir…?

Baguette…?

Balalaika…?

Bikini…?

And, perhaps, there

is as good a point as any, to

B.M.O.P.

(Bring My Own Poem)

to an end.