Tag Archives: #Seagull

My Cybertronic Seagull – a song

My Cybertronic Seagull – a song

My seagull has gone rusty,

I left him out last night;

and now he squeaks

when he should squawk;

metallic noises when he walks;

and he can’t fly,

I heard him sigh;

‘I was left out in the rain.’

My Cybertronic Seagull

has seized up in the rain;

I’ll have to feed him tin pasties,

until he’s better again.

My Cybertronic Seagull

has a rusty-coloured hue;

maybe WD40

will help him to pull through.

My Cybertronic Seagull

just stands there on his post;

he may never fly again;

or pinch my morning-toast.

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Gull on a Hot Tin Roof

Gull on a Hot Tin Roof

I’m just a gull

tap-dancing on the roof

of a silver Mazda 5,

it’s what I do

to keep my dreams alive

of becoming a dancer

and gracing the stage;

it’s all about talent

and not about age,

when you get to my age,

that is.

“To a Mr. Sylvester Swoop Esq.”

“To a Mr. Sylvester Swoop Esq.”

The postcard was addressed to a ‘Mr. Sylvester Swoop Esq., The Quayside, Looe, Cornwall.’

Of course, there was no address like this in Looe, East or West, and a ‘Mr. Sylvester Swoop’ was unknown to the post office and to those asked who lived in that area.

The picture on the front was of a pasty, and the flag of St. Piran was prominent in one corner – however, the post mark was from the town of Paisley in Renfrewshire – most strange.

The message was simple: ‘You can have this pasty, ya black headed- Bandersnatch!’ written, we assume, by an angry hand.

Eventually, after much deliberation, the postcard was pinned to a post on the Quayside at Looe. Perhaps Sylvester Swoop would notice it if he passed.

A Winter (Gull)’s Tale

A Winter (Gull)’s Tale

A seagull once told me

that, although pasties taste nice,

it’s really the thrill of the chase

not the taste

that makes them think once –

and not twice –

about diving and swooping

on unsuspecting souls

who have purchased a pasty,

flaky sausage rolls.

or maybe just a cone of chips.

The Gull just dips his head

and off he goes

follows his beak

and with the smell up his nose

he flies over whelmed shores.

And, in one foul swoop…

… he’s coq-au-hoop!

A Poem Revisited.

A Poem Revisited.

A seagull ate my poem

on the seafront the other day;

he swooped right down

all uninvited

and stole my words away.

Seagulls – an update.

There is no such thing as a seagull;

seagulls do not exist;

if you have a hankering to see one

(before you die)

you can cross it off of your list.

Looe News.

There was a man-eating fish

In West Looe the other day,

With a fresh catch for it’s tea;

Sprinkled with salt,

And vinegar to a fault.

All consumed,

It then swam away.

–//–

There were also Seagull-Eating Pasties present in East Looe, today;

But, as to how that went,

I’ll leave it up to you –

It was messy, that’s all I’ll say.