Category Archives: creative writing

Sprouts

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When a young lady known as Lee

Went and threw a sprout at me,

I said, “you are so pretty

And I’ve heard you are witty.

But why are you wasting your tea!”

The Fountain

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I wish the fountain’s hypnotic rhythm

Would never cease

for I am, momentarily, at peace

Listening to the splash

Of water flowing fast.

 

 

I have striven

For pleasure, and filled my leisure

With pretty flowers

Picked by many men

For a few brief hours

And then by me.

 

But pleasure lies in poetry

And the gentle sound

Of the fountain as she speaks to me

Is far more profound

Than wasted hours, spent amidst these painted flowers

Of whose scent

I often repent.

Lee Who Kept a Large Pet Bee

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There was a young man named Lee

Who kept a very large pet bee.

When they said “does it sting?”,

He said, “only in the spring!”,

As he tenderly rubbed his right knee!

Yeats’s Falcon

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Will Yeats’s falcon stay?

Or will he fly away

Leaving mankind behind

As our sun goes down

And civilisation is drowned

In endless night?

I think he may

Have long since taken flight.

My name it is Alice!

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There was a young lady of Crystal Palace

Who went by the name of Alice.

They said to her Claire,

“You should take great care!”,

She said, “my name it is Alice!”

My Head is Dead

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My head is dead.

After a flash of electricity in my brain

Am I the same?

 

My head feels dead.

I understand  the words said, and can’t explain

Why it feels dead.

 

My head may not be dead.

I can interpret and explain.

Perhaps my memory is the same,

But my head feels dead.

Seizure

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I felt no cold breath of Death

Nor the Reaper’s skeletal hand.

Yet he greeted me

And I mumbled and tumbled

And found myself on the cold ground

Where all are bound.

 

 

Death can command us all.

When he calls man must fall.

He greeted me in jest.

But he will tire of play

And I will find rest

For Death he ends all play.