Tag Archives: Poetry

“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.

The Rain Fell

The Rain Fell

The rain fell

from sky

to leaf

to me,

as I walked

through

the woods.

Throwaway Haikus

Throwaway Haikus

“Throwaway Haikus

are hardly worth the paper

they are written on!”

“It’s Lemon Thyme!”

“It’s ‘Lemon Thyme!”

Citrus burst fits the rhyme,

as we all shout: “It’s ‘Lemon Thyme!”

Apeel and chime, do the crime;

as we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”

Sail upon the vitamin C,

Herbidacious, obviously,

“Free the Lemons, if they’ve done their time,

and we are shouting, “Lemon Thyme!”

Limoncello plays the tune,

werewolf howls at light of Moon,

flibberty-gibbet all too soon;

are deciphering an ancient tune,

to be played upon a big bassoon.

“It’s Lemon Thyme!”

All out of sync

All out of sync

I’m all out of sync,

my brain’s on the blink,

and I cannot think

of another rhyme.

I’m dumb and confused,

numb and quite weary,

clumsy and clearly

shot away;

but, that’s not to say…

over and out,

whisper and shout,

and here is the twist,

I’m the top of my list.

A Silly Surreal Poem

A Silly Surreal Poem

Flattery got me everywhere;

but, I ended up in a cattery;

stopping, on the way, at a nunnery,

where I met, and spoke to, Simon Munnery;

who I barely knew, but he knew me

far less than I knew him and so it was that we,

found little to talk about,

took the opportunity to chalk about

a dead body of work

that someone had, unfinished, discarded;

so, here I stand

with head in hand

all due to an unforeseen incident

dans la rue de Paris

between a guillotine and me.