Tag Archives: #silly

About Fish!

About Fish!

They said

that I should read

a poem about


I wish, I wish

that I had ever written

a poem about a fish;

upon my dish

or swimming in the sea,

swimming up to me

telling tall tales

of Davy Jones’ Locker

and rare white whales.

So, where do I begin?

Sardines in a tin?


There is a difference between the two – if only we knew.

I think


when a salmon is in the pink

it should be left to do what salmon do;

swim the sea to Wollamaloo

or Timbuctu –

isn’t that what salmon do.

As you can see

I don’t know that much about fish

in the sea;

but, here’s the rub…


know even less

about me!


One day at the auction…

One day at the auction…

At auction,

I bought a folding fruit knife –

it was a bargain at eighteen pounds.

Since then,

I’ve been doing the greengrocer rounds…

but, I have been unable to find

any folding fruit

it’s driving me out of my mind

and pushing me down the chute.

Impulse buying?



Well, I haven’t yet found

any impulse to buy.

Biggles gets the giggles.

Biggles gets the giggles.

One day, Biggles got the giggles and couldn’t fly straight; then he steamed up his goggles – he was in quite a state.

Algy and Ginger could only look on

as the pilot James Bigglesworth looped the loop – then he was gone.

“Special Offer – Limericks 20% Off!”

“Special Offer – Limericks 20% Off!”

The forger did forget he was forged

Ate an apple until he was gorged

Copied a copious amount

To a bank note account

An Incident Involving a Dragon.

An Incident Involving a Dragon.

The Dragon flew out of the West;

a direction which surprised me, at best.

I’d been watching the North for a week and a day;

I was certainly thinking he’d be flying that way.

But, he’d circled around;

Surprise was a weapon he had,

And when he arrived

He various townspeople fried;

Unhappy they were to flambé.

As they say, ‘All dragons are awfully bad!’

“When is a Pilchard?”

“When is a Pilchard?”

“When is a Pilchard?”

When is a Pilchard not a Sardine?

When is a Herring a kipper?

When is a Cod not a present from God?

Should I ask me a fishing-boat skipper?

And what are Bloaters and Bucklings?

What is this fish that I see?

And why is it swimming off sideways,

has it some Crab in It’s fish ancestry?

Is there a place where good fishes do go?

To waggle their fins when they’re weary,

Do they head off to school?

Do they know about snow?

Do they call other fishes ‘my deary?’

When they swim in the sea,

do they think about me,

and write poems on beings with legs?

Do they sing of our ways,

as upon us they gaze?

an answer to these question begs.

“How goes the day? Swimmingly?”

A Tiny Vignette

Do You Read These If They Don’t Have A Picture?

‘Plinketty-Plonketty’ Peter Penquite (the second ‘e’ of which is pronounced thus giving it the full three-syllables of silliness – ‘Pen-Kwit-e’) was, shall we say – yes, let’s – quite pernickety.


Well, that’s a story for a post far longer than this one.