Tag Archives: #strange

The Barduck

A duck walked into a bar –

a Barduck!

That makes no sense,

or little, or some…

or, to my mind, lots!

What’s clarity to one

is obscurity to another…


Hence, I can say –

with no fear of prosecution (or persecution) –

that a duck walking into a bar

becomes a Barduck.

It’s now a thing.

Figuratively Speaking (a SoC poem)

Figuratively speaking, I am literally no good at poetry;

my words don’t rhyme,

don’t scan,

because I can’t keep time;

my feet, are indiscreet,

and when I’m upon Poetry Street

I never feel complete,

or able to compete.

Speaking of Poetry Street;

it needs resurfacing,

and there are far too many avenues

leading off of it,

that I tend to follow,

and they always lead to a sunken mire

in which I wallow,

like a simile in a choir,

or something like that

(metaphorically speaking)

And have you ever heard a flat-earther sing?

Hypothetically and rhetorically, of course.

Or a poetical horse

rocking the rhythm and rhyme?

Maybe a tangerine dreaming of becoming

the next Milton, lost in Paradise,

gently strumming upon a 7-string guitar?

How far will I take this?

Up to here – and no more,


Time Stood Still – aka ‘The Day The Clock Stood Still’


Time Stood Still – 11-10-2015

Time stood still.

Never a month went by
When this happened.

We waited
Some in rooms aptly named
Some at tables with stationary diners
Some unknowing what it was that they were waiting for

Until finally the wait was over

And Time’s Wingéd Chariot
Set forth again
With all its wheels attached once more.

©graemesandford.com (2015)

Some Words (in a random order)


A community of artists
Had contracted measles.
Lately, this had spread to their easels
(But, fortunately, their weasels were blessed with immunity).
So, enquiring to the possibility
Of hiring (and quickly firing – when job done) some finishists (or anti-startists)
The painter-types sought fainter hypes
With which to remove the lots of spots
To prove that quainter pipes
May get the hots for painting pots
And crushes with those who wield brushes
Could yield bonus paints
Is this going to work?
We don’t know, I shirk
If you have a clue, please phone us
We need your assistance
In this subtle dance
We shall
In a while
That the resist stance
Is futile.

A Little Nonsense (Helps the Medicine-God Own!)

A cuteness of Llama

A cuteness of Llama

Farmers of Llamas have far fewer dramas
Than farmers of Clams
Who raise false alarms
When calamity doesn’t come calling
To disturb the calm of their Clamourous Farms;
And farmers of former ferret farms
Are firmer in their forecasts of friction;
Fuelling fervours and favours…

(Are you following this?)

So, to surmise (and summarise) this summer, eyes will assume someone is seeing a seemingly small Sumerian sunrise somewhere.
Further to this: a languish of limpets or leeches (I forget which) will laugh longingly at leisure; leaving Llamas (and Clam) farmers lamely lamenting lost and lonely livelihoods.

Thus ends this edition of Farming Today – and now The News.

A World of Woe!


A man walks into a laundrette and asks the lady there: “Have you got anything that will remove nasty stains from society?”

The lady replies: “Splinge!”

“Splinge?” Queries the man.

“Yes – and now with added Gribble-Tang!”
NB The World’s Woes cannot be easily solved – but, a laugh can help you to deal with a little of them for a little while – I try to see the lightness when all around may be less than bright. G:)

Animal Matters


I am aware, Wolf, that the things you say are true; but, I am still having trouble getting used to a talking wolf.”

Wolf the wolf looked at the penguin.

You’ll get used to it; but, it’s beyond me what you are doing in this laundrette!” said Wolf.

Just waiting for my washing to finish.” elucidated Pengui the Penguin.