Tag Archives: #silly

Carpe Compendium!

“Seize the games!”

Is what I’d shout

if ancient Romans

were in any doubt

as to my madness.


I’m sorry to say

that I missed the day

when the Romans ruled the world

(well, an awful lot of it);

but, if I had been there

I might not be here now

telling you how

I’d have made myself look

an absolute fool

by shouting loudly

‘A shatterproof rule!’

‘Our Church is Haunted’

Our local church is haunted,

and there are cats in the belfry,

the font has a leek,

and the cleaner managed

(with some difficulty)

to get the stain…

out of the windows –

it only took a week.


On Sunday, when it’s raining,

the congregation sing,

about the whiskers of kittens

of the cats in the belfry,

all creatures great

and small mercies

that appear like birds,

suddenly, and without priory invitation.


Our local church is full of ghosts

holy, and unholy,

and one who boasts

about having had a conversation

upon the road to Damascus

with the separated head of Anne Boleyn –


if you have any questions,

about the above;

kindly go

in peace and love,

and if in doubt please ask us.

The Labradoodle (extended)

A Labradoodle

at Durdle Dor

spoke, ‘Abracadabra!’

then spoke no more.


A small Chihuahua

who saw this feat,

also spoke the once,

‘I want food – to eat!’


And all the dogs

who were there that day,

had something of nothing

of which to say.


And so was heard

(so the stories tell)

a thousand dog-phrases,

before Midnight’s toll bell.

The Labradoodle

A Labradoodle

at Durdle Dor

spoke, ‘Abracadabra!’

then spoke no more.

It’s just not Croquet

“I don’t play ‘Crow-K’

between the month of June

and the month of May,

and only then

if there’s a Saturday

following hard on the heels

of a Tuesday.


The pitch has to be flat,

but slanted at a seventeen degree angle;

and nobody should have a mallet

just a fandangle;

blindfolds would be compulsory,

legs tied together,

and matches only held

in the most inclement weather.


If ‘Crow-K’ ‘is’ played

outside of the bounds

of these rules and regulations,

I would esteem the occurrence

to be of no more than sounds

in a void,

and something to avoid;


saying this, I would like to repeat

a thing I have never uttered before,

that, ‘There is time for ‘Crow-K’

upon the Judgement Day,

and, what is more,

not a day before!’

A happy chappie (extended)

A happy chappie

in a chapel

was eating of an apple

whilst with a logical problem

he did grapple.


“It’s ‘Friday’,

which is my day;

and in my heyday

it was a Friday in Mayday!”

he exclaimed.


We think it may have been a cry for help.,

as he was also tryng

to purchase kelp

from a stray black dog

that was trying to whelp.

“The Interrobang?!”

I’d never heard

of this strange, strange word;

until I had –

and then it blew my mind.


“Blew your mind?!” you ask,

as you unscrewed your flask

of cold, cold tea.


“Yes!” I replied,

as I considered the tide –

coming in? Or going out?

“Is it coming in?!”

I shout.


Your tea imbibed,

upon a piece of parchment you scribed

the word, ‘Idiot’.


At least I tried.


“Big plonk,

Little plonk,

Cardboard box

Looks like a goose,

And smells like a fox.”





should sink,

I think,

and you shouldn’t drink

the ink – not even Quink (a brand)

that is purposed for putting

on a pristine page.

As to ink sinking,

I am thinking

that heavy words written down

would head

straight to the sea bed;

whilst light and fluffy words,

would float instead,

perhaps taking off into the sky.

Why I would think this

I haven’t a clue;

but, what else is a poet to do?

I wish…

I wish I was a poet

a-swimming in the sea;

or do I mean a fish –

it’s all gone wrong for me.