Poetry dies
In the poet’s eyes,
Or is it the skies
That turn black
So that he
And thee
Are unable to see?
Category Archives: literature
Lost Souls
We listened to music divine.
The wine
Was okay.
I knew
You would stay
For we had arranged it that way,
Love for a day
For which we would pay.
Both, in our own way
Short Story Vending Machine
My thanks to the young lady who drew my attention to this article during our chat earlier today,
A Beautiful Young Lady Named Vixen
A beautiful young lady named Vixen
Likes to write flash fiction,
Whilst in my bedroom
And wearing sweet perfume.
But alas, this rhyme is only fiction!
There Was A Young Lady Called Lou
There was a young lady called Lou
Who, due to feeling blue,
Went on a roller coaster
With her brand new toaster,
And a pig whose snout was blue!
Bud
Sometimes I would
That the bud
Could stay
That way.
In spring
Birds sing
And buds, for an hour,
Flower.
Coconut Oil
You, so slim
And supple,
Caused me to forget
My regret
And toil
In your soft brown skin,
And coconut oil.
A couple
For the night.
With the morning light
I was left, bereft
With the fading excite
Of the scent of coconut oil
From your brown girl skin,
Permeating the sheet
Where 2 strangers did, for a moment, meet.
There Once Was A Sad Old Clown
There once was a sad old clown
Who made the people frown.
His act was so bad
That it drove them all mad,
So they drummed him out of town!
When A Young Lady with Knobbly Knees
When a young lady with knobbly knees
Said, “your dog undoubtedly has fleas!”,
He remarked, with a bark,
“The truth is stark,
Young lady, you have knobbly knees!”.
For Display Only
Last night, I fell into conversation with an acquaintance who owns a market stall. My acquaintance sells a good many books (all second-hand), old records and similar items. Many of the people who buy from him are book lovers, however a lady recently bought a whole series of Penguin Classics (all with identical spines) to furnish the home of a person who (I suspect) is more interested in the social status gained by the ownership of an original set of Penguins than in any benefit derived from the pleasure of actually reading them. Indeed the lady doing the buying told my acquaintance that she was an interior decorator who had been specifically commissioned to purchase books for purely decorative purposes. My friend is a lover of literature and did consider not selling to the customer. However, we all must live. Consequently a sale was made and a set of Penguins, with identical spines are now (or soon will be) gracing a bookcase where they will, in all probability languish unread.
While the above incident is sad, it is not unusual. Many a country squire was more interested in hunting, shooting and fishing than in the pleasures of the mind. Although many such gentlemen where possessed of fine libraries, the bookcases often remained undisturbed, apart from the dustings of servants, and perhaps the attentions of a curious house guest or a blue stocking daughter, or other relative who might, on occasion take down and enjoy one of the leather bound tomes.
While I can’t claim that every book on my bookshelves has been read, I have always purchased them with the intention of reading, and most of the volumes in my bookcases have been well thumbed and enjoyed. What about you, my dear readers, have you ever bought a book with the sole intention of displaying (rather than reading it)?

