Category Archives: poetry

A Young Man By The Name Of Hogg

A young man by the name of Hogg
Said, “I shall blog about my new dog.
But the going it got real tough,
So the dog, who was called Rough,
Took over that blog, belonging to Hogg.

When A Sultry Young Lady Named Claire

When a sultry young lady named Claire
Suggested we have a quick affair,
I said, “that naughty Miss Hocking,
Her behaviour is really quite shocking!
Do you happen to know her, Clair?”

At a Time of Social Distancing

Sunscreen on skin
Is no sin.
The birds sing
For it is spring.
One may go outside
But woe betide
The man who offers resistance
To the concept of social distance.

They say that couples are okay
To enjoy the weather together.
But how do you
Distinguish lovers true
From those simply out for fun
In this beautiful spring sun?

One may stroll, alone.
The phone,
And the internet
Are fine. As is wine
(but no alcohol or grub
Down the local pub)!

You may walk your pet
And hear the birds sing
(for it is spring),
And it is not yet
A crime, to indulge in rhyme.

Angels in White

Angels in white
Make journeys of mercy
To thirsty
Men at night.
While their drivers smile
Behind dark glasses.

Time passes
And angels take wing,
Perhaps leaving a little something
Behind
(Such as a shoe)
For a man to find,
So he may say
“I remember you”.

And, perchance
Angels may grace
The self-same place
With their dance
Of pleasure and pain,
Again and again.

When A Young Man Named Sam

When a young man named Sam
Said, “have you seen my wife Pam?”.
I said, “she is under the table
With an elderly gentleman called Able.
And they offered me some ham!

At A Time of Lockdown

At a time of lockdown
Some drown
Their sorrows, in beer or gin.
Yet alcohol is not
The only form of sin.

True, some may lose themselves in art.
But others grow hot.
Drink and art
Can not suffice.
Thoughts turn to vice.

Anticipation of pleasure,
For the coming warm weather
Will bring
(In summer and spring)
Roses into bloom.
And, despite the lockdown
Some men will not resist the perfume
Of roses.

The poet composes
And thinks “the woodland path
Along which I pass
Has no flowers in bloom,
But soon
Their scent will delight
Both day and night.
And I shall pass by
With a sigh.

Yet the woodland path
Is not wide
And when, on each side
There are such sweet blooms,
‘Tis not easy to pass,
And some may stray
From the narrow way …”.