Tag Archives: Poetry

St. Valentine’s Day Poem – #ABitLate

St. Valentine’s Day Poem #ABitLate

St. Valentine

you are dear to me;

your day is the fourteenth day

of February;

you speak of love,

with cards, choccie hearts, and beauteous flowers;

yet, when all those are gone

there are still lots of hours

upon your day…

when we can talk

and just hold hands –

because it’s special being with someone

who understands.


Tate My Pasty @RateMyPasty

Tate My Pasty @RateMyPasty

Upon a canvas

to behold

is a Cornish Pasty,

ancient, old;

full of promise

that never came.

My Cornish Ancestry (or ‘We B’ain’t Be Blow-ins’)

My Cornish Ancestry (or ‘We B’ain’t Be Blow-ins’)

My family left Cornwall, heading East,

in search of wisdom, or a wise man, at the least;

after many years they realised the truth:

that there b’aint be wisdom in a single tooth;

they searched on high

and they searched down low,

all across the foreign land

they were fain to go;

until at the last, he who spoke for them said:

I want to taste once more the pasty

and die in a Cornish bed.

Haikuu, Sweeeeet Haikuu!

Haikuu, Sweeeeet Haikuu!

What can a Haiku do

when it’s a syllable too long

on all three of its lines?

#Ideas 2 – A Trip to IDEA.

#Ideas 2 – A Trip to IDEA.

I popped into IDEA

the other day;

looking for a flat-pack poem –

not too heavy, not too light –

that I could comfortably carry away.

I finally found one

that I thought would do,

carried it to the checkout,

Checkout No. 2;

purchased that poem,

and transported it home.

It was when I tried

to put it together

that it all turned out wrong;

I couldn’t make head nor tail of the instructions for my ‘Platt-Pack Dikt’,

and before too long

I was scratching my head;

but I wouldn’t be licked;

you see, I didn’t have enough words

and some were underlined red;

there seemed too many verbs,

and a spare letter zed;

then I found all the adjectives

some of which filled me with dread;

only fitted by using a hammer

on their countersunk thread.

Eventually, I had put it all together,

five minutes before I would have reached the end of my tether;

it didn’t look ‘quite’ like the picture;

and it sways in the breeze,

but, it’s a permanent fixture

for a decade or two,

as it’s all held together

by my use of some ‘very’ strong glue

#Letters 4

#Letters 4

I don’t have letters after my name,

nor bailiffs after my goods and chattels;

I am solely to blame

for any skirmishes and battles

that I have entered into

with the dubious intention

of staking my claim

to the wealth of a nation;

and I have ‘never’ liaised with the Devil;

though, to give him his due,

he has ‘never’ ‘ever’ asked me to.

I don’t receive many letters

with my name emblazoned

upon the envelope;

I live in hope,

not literally, but laterally,

and how long is a piece of rope?

What is there left when all soap is gone?

Why do rhetorical questions matter so little to me;

the former? The latter?

the letter of the law is unsure upon this point,

and, so, I anoint myself with the moisture of sweat,

or, better yet,

a lack of physical and mental debt.

We are ‘all’ living in a material world,

and I am a material;

well, maybe knot.

My D.I.G.N.I.T.Y.

becomes less ev’ry day.

PS Good Luck with the above.

The Lonely Words in the Woods.

The Lonely Words in the Woods.

I must go down to the words today,

the lonely words in the wood;

the ones that just aren’t used enough;

and not because

they are no good;

but, because they are so shy;

and no one goes to visit them,

and if someone does, they cry.

The words all hide

amongst the trees,

they keep themselves unspoken;

solitude is the thing they crave,

a silence likened to the grave,

or a morning quite unbroken.

I must just go,

to see they’re safe,

check they haven’t wilted;

for they had worth

in better days

before their use was stilted.

I must go down to the words today,

the lonely words in the wood.