Now don't be dismissive of daytime TV Or feel any guilt at the time you call free A face fills the screen and engages with you Or a honey-toned voice-over person will do To tell you some things and to show you some friends You don't have to stay till the episode ends You know the presenters and watched them evolve To switch them off suddenly takes some resolve It feels so unfriendly and heartless but then They're always so happy to see you again With their property pottery plants and antiques The stories complete without plots taking weeks Participants gladly delightedly wear The best of their faces and outfits and hair All styled and revised to appeal to your eyes And none of it wrecked in a fight for a prize It's warm but not meaningful nice and not deep Relaxing informative soothing and cheap
The ode may be scrambled or basically fried And served with a battered pantoum A helping of light villanelle on the side A bowl of dressed ballads of doom And next a sweet sonnet with marmalade on it Washed down with a vintage haiku To finish a couplet Of tea with a chocolate The groom will then stand up and spew Ten guests may be heard with their own spoken word There follow the cake and the toast At the sound of the gong there is communal song The rule is twelve stanzas at most
She holds her head and flagpole high Like Boadicea do or die And rides without a battle cry Away for 7 seconds Her graceful steed goes gently round An organ plays no trumpets sound I'm watching standing on the ground Waiting 7 seconds Her 2-year-old is right beside her Tiny car and eager driver All our smiles are getting wider Every 7 seconds We're more and more enthusiastic Fancy seeing you fantastic Here we come on painted plastic Every 7 seconds There's no-one out but us and staff No audience to think we're daft We wave and wave and laugh and laugh Every 7 seconds
She called it a gapanthus It’s a mystery my dear I won it in a raffle Not the crystal chandelier But a pot with no instructions Lacking clarity I fear Just hinting with its leafage That a flower might appear So I’ll watch its progress daily For at least about a year Or until it dies or I do I have simply no idea Are its flowers firm or floppy Are they fat or like a spear Are they fragrant are they lasting Would they fit behind the ear Like a dainty little daisy Or a big ballooning sphere An enormous bursting firework Quick to bloom and disappear Now the waiting’s quite exciting So I do not want to hear From the friends who know it backwards All well-meaning and sincere No AI or gardeners’ programme Is allowed to interfere But when petals open I’ll invite An expert panel here And meanwhile I shall sprinkle it With crisps and bottled beer And hope a panthus doesn’t need Instructions that are clear
I put an audio file on my last post but it seems it didn’t go out to my valued email subscribers who must not be in any way deprived. If you’re reading this in an email, thank you so much, click here or top right to the website, or miss my singing One Verse at a Time! There’s a video of the original ‘One Day at a Time’ on YouTube – Lena Martell does a good version.
This is a song – I’ve recorded myself singing it! but if you’re reading this in an email, you need to click here to get audio.
Me singing !! my poets’ parody of the wonderful, timeless, One Day at a Time. See my lyrics below and YouTube video which may not load but is easy to find. Favourite song, and motto.Lena Martell on Top of the Pops
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
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
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!
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
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 or nostalgic reminiscing even drunk on gargled wine I couldn’t ask and answer my own questions as I do then everybody else discovered they could do it too
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.
May God rest you merry
champagne then sweet sherry
some goat's cheese to start
in a tart
goose gammon wine mustard
pies port pudding custard
then if you depart
it's your heart
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
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
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
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
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
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!
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
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
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
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.
THE RHYMING TIMES 