It rained and rained,
and I got wet,
it soaked me through;
and, yes, I caught pneumonia,
double, died;
and then the rain stopped,
the Sun came out,
and all things dried;
it was a lovely day,
but a shame I’d died.
The Cornish chuff flew from Slough to Peterborough; he landed on a bough, and said, ‘Enough is enough, for now.’ Through the rough night the Chough did cough; but feeling better come the morning, to Loughborough he flew, to see a roof he knew. Later that afternoon, he did go from Loughborough, back to Slough, to Crewe, then to Looe.
‘No, I’m not a complete idiot…’
is what I say,
in reply to the question,
‘Are you a complete Idiot?’
‘And then I add,
‘… I have a few bits missing; so, not a complete idiot, am I?’
Paraphrasing from Shania,
‘This doesn’t impress them much’.
No it is not blank;
there are many words writ here;
but, not that much sense.
.
So, perhaps, write more
than just one single haiku,
will two haiku do?
.
Or is three enough;
not that there is much content,
just a lot of fluff.
Like in the settee,
which is not quite relevant;
but, is a true fact.
.
Should these haiku rhyme?
Perhaps I should have prepared
before I started.
.
Or is this just a
Stream-of-Consciousness haiku,
that goes where it wants?
.
So many questions –
and so few answers at all –
typical Graeme.
.
Anyway, my friend,
it’s not so blank now is it,
but, just as silly.
.
And, no, it won’t rhyme;
time after time I’ve told you,
my haiku don’t do
what I want them to.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #BankHoliday, #Blank, #poetry. #poem, #seriesofhaiku, Haiku, Poetry
When I took the picture
I left plenty of room
for the poem
that would accompany it.
When I took the other picture
I left plenty of room
for the seagull
that would inhabit it.
I didn’t take any more pictures,
as I’d left plenty of room
for improvement.
When Wednesday creeps up on you
and takes you unawares,
you suddenly realise that
you are half way through the ‘weak’ days,
and heading towards the ‘strong’ ones.
“Wow!
“How did that happen?”
you might ask.
Well, perhaps you should have been paying
more attention.
Gull.
From wingtip to wingtip,
from beak to tail feathers,
from back to claw;
the gull is complete,
and ready to fly
into the yonder blue sky.
So, what day is it?
National Poetry Day!
So, write a poem.
Care
About
Rare
Earth.
“Children, children, children, children,
children, children, chil—‘ said the Queen bee.
‘What on earth is going on this morning?
I made up your sandwiches, filled you all a flask, and all I ask is a little peace and quiet – and it’s just chaos!
“It’s bedlam!” cried the Queen bee/
“Well, ma’am…” said one particularly brave worker bee, “it’s our beehive, you see.”
“And what is wrong with the beehive?”
“Well… it seems to be perched upon the top of somebody’s head!”
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Graeme Sandford 