There was a young man from Dover
Who suffered from a terrible hangover.
When he called for the hair of the dog
His servant Hogg
Brought him a canine called Rover.
There Was A Young Man From Dover
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Monthly Archives: March 2018
Too Much
I live too much in my head.
When I am dead
These words here said
May moulder in bookcases.
I hope they will be read
By those who’s faces
Are healthy with the glow
Produced by England’s country air.
When I go
Why should I care?
For I will not know
Whether it be so …
Some leave institutions behind.
I shall leave a piece of my mind
To be read
When I am dead
(or not as the case may be)!
It amuses me
To think what others may see
In scribbles left behind
By one who lived too much in his own mind.
There Was A Young Lady Named Lynn
There was a young lady named Lynn
Who wrote a treatise on original sin.
She was rather pretty
And extremely witty
And an expert on original sin!
Conspiracies
Conspiracy theory
Most dreary.
“Little green men are getting into my head”
He said.
“The Russians didn’t poison those people in Salisbury you know …”.
On and on they go
The crackpots who have heard or read
Something crazy and, of course it is true!
“The Jew
Is controlling the world and the holocaust is a lie”.
I wonder why people deny
History’s weight
And give way to hate.
The holocaust did take place
But weirdos and extremists after fantasies chase
While fake “historians” grin
And coin it in.
“Little green men” are harmless
While holocaust deniers are charmless
(But by no means harmless)!
Putin must be laughing up his sleeve
At the gullible idiots who believe
That Britain released a nerve agent on it’s own street.
So I greet
Each conspiracy theory
Most dreary
With a contemptuous smile
While
I bite my tongue lest my disdain
Is made plain in words.
Passed Masters
We pass by many things, day in, day out but how many of them do we really see?
I passed a masterpiece today
I passed a few what can I say?
We did the Prado, Thyssen too.
How many pictures? Barely know.
Caught Picasso, Tintoretto
Saw a Goya, a Titian or two.
Others we passed, what can I say?
We missed a few. It’s how things go.
Visitation, crucifixion
Salvation now annunciation.
Here’s another; come this way.
We wander past them to and fro.
That’s a Monet, and there’s a Bosch.
We can look but must not touch.
This one’s Durer, that’s El Greco
Velasquez here, some Reubens too.
Now a room of gentry, royalty.
Carlos third; we know that nose.
On and on and on it goes.
All we tourists passing through.
There’s classic figures nude, unclothed,
Pictures of heaven only knows.
Round and round and round we go.
So many rooms we just pass through.
Masters painted, sought perfection
Showed technique and dedication.
But we can’t…
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There Was A Young Lady Called May
There was a young lady called May
Who performed in a very strange play.
Having neither beginning nor end
Her friends all contend
That it really wasn’t a play!
Loss
Shall I compete
With high-heeled feet
As the gods look down
And snigger or frown?
Aphrodite is flighty
Yet I have thought her divine
And from time to time
Still worship at her shrine.
Nymphs suppress a sigh
And smile.
They will, for a little while
Stay
Though they long to hie
Away.
Gloss
May conceal the crack of age.
I am at a loss
But should learn
To turn
Over a new page
For this stage
Is a temporary thing
And I am without a ring
Sin
Through thick and thin
I shall oppose sin
For I am pure
As the snow covered moor
Ere footfall
Spoils all.
I am a saint
(Which is rather quaint
In this age).
But open the pristine cover
And look beyond the page
And you will discover
A man much like his brother …
I Challenge You To…
Esther Chilton is hosting a challenge in which she invites you to write about ballet. Below you can find the contributions of those who have contributed thus far, together with my limerick on the subject of ballet.
Ester also includes some amusing contributions from last weeks challenge, in which she invited readers to write about cheese. I enjoyed last week’s contributions and, in particular the prose piece, by Martin Strike. Being a huge consumer of cheese, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to contribute to last week’s challenge in the form of a limerick and Esther kindly reproduces my poem in the below post.
Kevin
This week’s challenge is to write a story, limerick or poem on the subject of:
Ballet
Last week’s challenge was to write about cheese. You sent in some simply brilliant pieces. Here are a few:
Keith Channing wrote a thoroughly entertaining limerick:
I live in a land famed for cheese
With Rocqueforts and Cantals and Bries
To make them is lawful
Though some taste bloody awful
Just send me some strong Cheddar, please!
Peter Wellshad some fun:
Sometimes it makes me sneeze,
Don’t be unhinged,
No cause for alarm,
It’s an addiction and not a disease!
Visit Steve Walsky‘s blog for a ‘cheesy events’ piece!:
https://simplicitylane.wordpress.com/2018/03/23/cheesy-events-flash-fiction-humor/
D Avery send in some super limericks:
How can I ever make it up to you?
This cheese is green and you wanted blue
I can’t hope to console ya
With this Gorgonzola
If green cheese is something you do eschew.
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There Was A Young Man Called Jim
There was a young man called Jim
Who asked me to write about him.
I lacked the time
To compose a rhyme
On account of his pretty wife Kim …
K Morris - Poet 