Category: Poetry

Merry Christmas 2025

Christmas with elves and verses of yore
Which regular readers have read before

The Present Value of Things

THE GIVER 

I used to visit every shop in town 
and wonder why
You'd thank me for the kind of foolish thing 
I thought I'd buy
I'd go another day and look again 
and wonder what
You’d like about a silly gift 
you previously got
So days went by with nothing bought 
and Christmas came and went 
No cards were posted out 
and there were zero presents sent
The guilt was just tremendous 
and the shame of it intense
So now I do a different thing 
at minimal expense

THE RECIPIENT

A poem as a Christmas present thank you very much
Is better than a thermal vest and pantaloons and such
I'm wearing 2 of each a fluffy onesie and a hat
A cardigan a dressing gown as well on top of that
The price of oil has fashioned all the latest clothing trends
So these are what you tend to get from relatives and friends
But look you sent an envelope my gosh whatever next
And here's a quick response that I shall type you as a text
Are poems cheap or priceless as an option for a gift
Are people overjoyed or do they seem a little miffed
Of all the things that I received I liked your thing the most
Because despite the price of stamps you put it in the post

A Christmas Coronary

May God rest you merry
Champagne or sweet sherry
Some goat's cheese to start
In a tart
Goose gammon wine mustard
Pies port pudding custard
Then should you depart
It's your heart

Winter Timetables

I see from these tables of darkness
We’ve 16 long hours to get through
But look it says here there are also
3 levels of twilight who knew
Astronomical twilight is darkest
The stars not the people are bright
You wake astronomically sleepy
Not ready to give up your  night
But next comes the Nautical twilight
You’re out on the sea in a boat
Still going by stars in this dimness
Set sails and just keep it afloat
Level 3 we are told is called Civil
You reach full politeness at dawn
If you meet someone chatty and sprightly
Smile tightly and stifle a yawn
Some fine cloudless dusk in December
Just watch till the twilights are gone
If people have stopped being civil
They won't put their fairy lights on

I Lost My Voice

I lost my voice at Christmas
And the silence was surprising
The monologue was gone
And there was no-one deputising
No announcing resolutions 
Singing hymns for auld lang syne
No nostalgic reminiscing
Even full of gargled wine
And I couldn’t ask and answer
My own questions as I do
So everybody else discovered
They could do it too

The Aftermath

Ah season's greetings warm but fleeting
Fill your glass is past
So now we're peeved and can’t believe 
We got so fat so fast
No peace on earth just massive girth
From festive fun to none
No sign round here of Christmas cheer 
Beyond a bulging bum
Fear not they said be glad instead
Rejoice in what you've got
The certainty that recently
We ate an awful lot

“Rude Conversation” reappears with image and audio

But we only just met

Conversing with strangers at banquets
Or drinks parties what do you say
To keep things polite and avoid a big fight
With blows and torn clothes and affray
Don’t start with the pope that’s a slippery slope
Or a war or your horrible day
They’ll only throw canapés that isn’t right
Hit them over the head with the tray
If you’re faced with a pessimist just a light slap
Stops them moaning the world’s at the dogs
You might let a lot of wine land in their lap
When they say it’s all desert and bogs
You can try to do weather just keeping it light
But there’s only one topic for some
They’ll agree that the sun has returned from the night
But insist that it shines from their bum
So tell me of something you really enjoyed
Have you come far and where have you been?
You can hide what you think and you won’t get annoyed
If you trained on a course with the Queen








 







	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
Annie the Organised
		
	
	

		

There was always a task in the world we were in
And always another nineteen
It wasn’t a question of which you would like 
Or where you would rather have been
You couldn’t just tackle them one at a time
You had to be juggling all day
These great flaming torches with axes and knives
But Annie to you it was play
And all with your finger right bang on the pulse
And a grip of great complex affairs
With an army of followers getting results
Lagging behind on the stairs
I never saw so many ducks in a row
You've given 100 percent
But you've parrots to play with and patterns to sew
Annie it's time that you went!

	


	



			
				


			

			
A week of quick and foolish poems
		
	
	

		

NaPoWriMo ?!? means the nation has to write a poem a day in April.  Here's my week 1 which had 6 days.

Do I Miss the Excitement

There was always a task in the world I was in
And always another nineteen
It wasn’t a question of which you would like 
Or where you would rather have been
Or if you would tackle them one at a time
They had to be juggled – yes twenty
Like great flaming torches with axes and knives
Now tossing a pancake is plenty

Rubbish in the Night

Think about that
And think about this
And think about that some more
What is the purpose 
Of thinking of things
In the morning at twenty to four

Thinking of that
Reminds me of this
And leads to the other and on
And on till the nonsense
Dissolves in a dream
So by twenty to nine it has gone

Sorry if it Doesn’t Make Sense

I can’t seem to laugh 
At my prose paragraph
But the rhyming verse keeps me amused
The sense will be changed
And the words rearranged
Till the reader and I are confused

Live Long and Prosper


Poetry doesn’t have to rhyme
And in doing so it takes up a huge proportion of the writer’s time
You could have sold many a successful novel
In the time it took to produce 4 perfect lines in your miserable hovel
You could have been wined and dined on a world book launch tour
Or stayed true to your dubious talents and poor

Life is too short
For poems of this sort

O for the End of NaPoWriMo 
This one is a disgraceful lyric parody 
from The Sound of Music

Po a pot a fine Ming pot
Po an infant’s favourite word
Po in case I wet myself
Po a place to put a turd
Na no better things to write
Mo hang on and have a go
Wri this acronym is shite
But it gets you started so
Collect your poems in a Po
Rhyme O

Be Friendly

Hello You on the edge of the gathering
Spruced up in a fetching blue hat
We’re all here enthusing and blathering
No chance of you joining the chat

These topics are desperately boring
To anyone not in the loop
I don’t want the guilt of ignoring
So let’s form a breakaway group

I’ll ask you some questions politely
And give you a turn at the bat
And you may berate me quite rightly
For treating you rudely like that

And why did we want to avoid you
And try not to look in your eye
Our attitude really annoyed you
So now we are all going to die



	


	



			
				


			
				


			
				


			

			
Covid Rules for Career Criminals – poem 37
		
	
	

		

Do 
vandalise deface and damage 
steal and shoot and snort
defraud and threaten cheat besmirch 
and otherwise extort
Be contactless, in short

Don’t 
jostle grapple grope molest
or wrestle do not mug
No smacking shouting kneeing nutting
throttling like a Thug*
As this may spread the bug

*Thug: HISTORICAL
a member of an organization of robbers and 
assassins in India. Devotees of the goddess Kali, 
the Thugs waylaid and strangled their victims, 
usually travellers, in a ritually prescribed manner. 
They were suppressed by the British in the 1830s.

	


	



			
				


			
				


			

			
Balcony Folk Look Down at Lockdown – poem 34
		
	
	

		

look at the people all marching about 
making the most of the hour that they’re out 
swinging their arms all the bags are at home 
furloughed along with the iron and the comb 
no defined route just the whim of their feet 
swerving round all other soldiers they meet 
randomly crissing and crossing the green 
imagine some lines showing where they have been 
a map of their journeys like tangled up string 
with no destination extraordinary thing 
a fast-forward film of the aerial view 
would show all the dogs passing very quick poo 
and speed up the shoppers in Sainsbury’s queue 
we balcony dwellers need something to do 
like hang from a rope or a flying trapeze 
abandon all hope or swing down from your knees 
be gloomy and mope or sail over the trees 
and show you can cope with restrictions like these 
 






	


	



			
				


			

			
Mixed Observation Ward – poem 33
		
	
	

		

 I flew back from England to see my poor mum
 In fear of sad words and last parting
 She was crying with laughter and glad that I'd come
 That man over there can't stop farting
 She whispered a nurse put a pipe in his bum
 Her hospital fun was just starting
 Despite her low numbers she didn't succumb
 It wasn’t her mood they were charting 

 She wasn’t expecting to hear a guitar
 Just behind the thin fabric partition
 Is it angels in there it depends how they are
 Most patients just need the musician
 Two verses of Edelweiss small repertoire
 Enough is enough repetition
 Mum's band with maracas was better by far
 Do they not have some kind of physician

 Last night when I came she was grumbling away
 I listened to what was the matter
 She’d like a cream tea a nice cloth on a tray 
 And six kinds of cake on a platter
 The chef sends her gruel both lumpy and grey
 She’s getting too hungry to chatter
 So we’re home to do dumplings and doughnuts all day
 Sink our fangs in meringues and get fatter 

	


	



			
				


			

			
Let Off Lightly In Lockdown – poem 32
		
	
	

		

 
 
 
 How large is your problem 
 How long is a string
 What counts as catastrophe 
 Any old thing
 Good towels gone rigid
 Fresh cornflakes gone soft
 That thing that you liked 
 Surely lost from the loft
 Your socks all unravelled
 Your teabag just burst
 Such things didn’t seem
 Quite so tragic at first                                                                
 When news was exciting
 And frightening and new
 And clearing out cupboards
 Was cheering to do
 What fun it was finding 
 And fondling old junk
 And poking in plugholes
 And hoking out gunk
 But now for a challenge
 It's glum in this trough
 Let’s have some explosions
 Big fever bad cough
 An earthquake that sweeps you
 Off north on a flood
 Through rough seas and cyclones
 To boiling hot mud
 How big is your problem
 What's really at stake
 It’s not Armageddon
 To run out of cake
 Whatever you suffered
 And dreaded before
 The way to forget it
 Is suffer some more
  
   

	


	



			
				


			

			
Measham Looks Forward
		
	
	

		

 
 
 
 
News on 18th November 2020 
Main Street in Leicestershire village to Close for Roadworks on 16th January 2021
  
  
 The people are lovely in Measham
 Just not on the national stage
 They keep to the rules about Covid
 Well no-one’s been out for an age
 So what’s to be talked of in Measham
 They feel they are not where it’s at
 The regional news is too ghastly
 They need some community chat
 Beyond friends and family on facebook
 What gossip can neighbours all share
 Not football or glitzy occasions
 The Measham Times’ pages are bare
 But something has grown on a grapevine
 That’s Leicestershire Live it’s an app
 There’s going to be action in Measham
 To put the place back on the map
 It’s happening right at the centre
 The slow-beating heart of the town
 The word will get round pretty quickly
 To strap on your mask and get down
 There’s 32 hours of excitement
 Predicted in Leicestershire Live
 See action discuss the diversion
 Just go for that perilous drive
 Reporters competing for access
 Photographers lenses aloft
 Big cameras and microphones waving 
 On sticks and all fluffy and soft
 Recording the road works in High Street
 In how many weeks only 8
 In 4 no-one knows about Christmas
 So cling to that Severn Trent date 

	


	



			
				


			

			
My Perfect Cousin
		
	
	

		

she's perfect for chatting my cousin
we go at it ten to the dozen
It's yak yak yak yak yak yak yak
And yak yak yak yak yak yak yak





We're up for some sedentary fun
2 teacups 2 plates and that bun
so massive it's too much for one
Apart from this vice we have none
just yak yak yak yak yak yak yak
and yak yak yak yak yak yak yak





 what chatworthy things have we done
I fought in 2 scuffles and won
she varnished her submachine gun
she only employs it to stun
we don't do nak nak nak nak nak
these days just yak yak yak yak yak






	


	



			
				


			

			
Community Service, or Maniac in the Park
		
	
	

		

Hacking the mayhem of hedges to hell
Murdering all of the moss
Gathering edibles pigeon with snail
Squirrel in hazelnut sauce





Packing pantechnicons twigs on a spade
Mountains of leaves on a breeze
Stacking the fruits of a carnage of blades
Logs that were recently trees





Poisoning scraping and digging to death
Beheading and chopping things off
Excellent therapy pause for a breath
Now who shall I put in this trough?

	


	



			
				


			

			
Mannequin on the Train
		
	
	

		

Hey workers don’t be sitting here like stone
All grim grey clothes and faces don’t go home
Let’s go to the next party!
Don’t mind if you’re a mess forget your meals
I’ve got the pure white fishnet tights and heels
The porcelain skin long neck exquisite lips
The ballerina shape and can-can hips
I’ll take you!
Too bad you need to do those toilet things
And sweat and cry grow excess hair and cough
You bend your elbows do the twist and sing
I’ll party till my head and legs come off
We’re stopping! See me bouncing to and fro?
Come on you workers pick me up let’s go!






	


	



			
				


			

			
Aftermath
		
	
	

		

From Christmas cheer to absent beer
From festive fun to none
No peace on earth just massive girth
God bless us every one





No season’s greetings family meetings
Fill your glass is past
On New Year’s Eve I can’t believe
We got so fat so fast





A year to go before we’ll show
Goodwill to men again
Great joy a tree a spending spree
Forget all that till then





So flush your toxins wash your socks
Begin the righteous fight
Defeat your sins and double chins
Cast off your clothes they’re tight





Hard times ahead don’t cry instead
Rejoice in what you’ve got
You won’t remember last December
Once the sea is hot

	


	



			
				


			

			
Serious Insides
		
	
	

		

Hilarity in Poetry and Woeful Verses Weekly
Are necessary someone has to put the effort in
O who has time for rigid rhyme I think it’s me uniquely
It’s tough to write this awful guff but people need to grin
So moil and toil and midnight oil it’s not too late and vital
We’re going down with fatal frowns and serious insides
I think you’ll find I saved mankind with stanzas and a title
Or else it’s yikes I got no likes and everybody’s died





Could lyrics raise the spirits quick we haven’t very long
There’s still a chance so do you fancy bursting into song

	


	



			
				


			

			
Legal Discourse
		
	
	

		

It’s wonderful to listen to a view that’s well expressed

Convincingly with elegance a hand upon the breast

The confidence of eloquence the thumbs inside the vest

Or waving swords of truth the shield of valour and the rest





Impeccably grammatical with clarity of thought

Yes logical and lyrical and flowing as it ought

Besides the crystal diction there are sounds that can’t be taught

Of thinking being harnessed and attention being caught





The content could be nonsense or just slightly subtly wrong

Informed by Harry Potter books or operatic  song

As long as no-one tries to make the sentences too long

We’d have to say this argument is jolly blinking strong





Or rather we are minded to concur the case is clear

No need for further evidence we heard it over here

Entranced and deeply moved it isn’t done to clap and cheer

Each member of the audience just sheds a little tear





These Brexit vote debates demand we be not quite so dense

As to be swayed by legal words like heretofore and hence

We beg to ask the Speaker pray be seated on the fence

And bring the bastard benchers to the House of Common Sense

	


	



			
				


			

			
“Rude Conversation” reappears with image and audio
		
	
	

		

But we only just met










Conversing with strangers at banquets
Or drinks parties what do you say
To keep things polite and avoid a big fight
With blows and torn clothes and affray
Don’t start with the pope that’s a slippery slope
Or a war or your horrible day
They’ll only throw canapés that isn’t right
Hit them over the head with the tray
If you’re faced with a pessimist just a light slap
Stops them moaning the world’s at the dogs
You might let a lot of wine land in their lap
When they say it’s all desert and bogs
You can try to do weather just keeping it light
But there’s only one topic for some
They’ll agree that the sun has returned from the night
But insist that it shines from their bum
So tell me of something you really enjoyed
Have you come far and where have you been?
You can hide what you think and you won’t get annoyed
If you trained on a course with the Queen












 







	


	



			
				


			

			
The Curse of Verse
		
	
	

		

I  went with enormous enthusiasm to a comedy writing course (a week with the Arvon Foundation who normally do everything but comedy) and it was indeed hilarious but mine came out as rhyming verse, only, sadly, and painting classes dictating dull colours caused a great sinking of the heart.  Thus began all creativity.









 


Brain says to Pencil I’m bursting it’s time


Pencil will only do LUDICROUS RHYME


Brushes are shouting BRIGHT COLOUR no choice


Seems they join forces and THAT IS YOUR VOICE