There was a young lady named Clare
Who bought a juicy pear.
Some say that she bought two
But that can not be true
For I sold her my final pear
Category Archives: poetry
Shoppers
I pass the lights
And think on the delights
Inside
Where shoppers hide
From the cold outside
Where people hurry by
And do not catch another’s eye.
What man will glorify the ethereal
When there is a material
Girl with perfect skin
Who beckons him in
To her store?
Those who are discreet
Do not ask for a receipt.
They know the power
Of the shower
And how scent lingers
On fingers.
But one can not forever hide
From the cold outside
There Was A Young Lady Named Kate
There was a young lady named Kate
Who always came home very late.
Her mother looked grave
While her father did rave
At his daughter for coming home late!
There Was A Young Lady Named Louise
There was a young lady named Louise
Who’s pleasure it was to please.
I asked her for honey
(which she found extremely funny),
So she gave me a hive of bees!
Maiden Cough
The hay
Was soft.
In the loft
They lay.
She coughed
Her final maiden cough
That day
Online Distractions
Yesterday evening (Sunday 26 November), found me contentedly sitting on the sofa in my living room, reading a recently purchased braille edition of Robert Frost’s “North of Boston”, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/3026/3026-h/3026-h.htm. On turning to the final poem in “North of Boston”, which is entitled “Good Hours” https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/good-hours, I came across the word profanation.
Being wholly unfamiliar with the word I was keen to ascertain its meaning. I had, however turned off my computer (quite deliberately as I wished to spend the remainder of Sunday evening reading, undisturbed by technology). I do not own a braille dictionary (they are, to my knowledge no longer produced as blind users can access online dictionaries), consequently the only way in which I would have been able to find the definition of profanation would have been by turning on my computer or looking up the word using the search engine on my mobile phone, (both devices are equipped with screen readers which convert text into speech and braille).
To cut a long story short, due to my unwillingness to succumb to the demon of technology, I left my curiosity unsatisfied until this evening (Monday 27 November).
I spend much of my life engaging with technology. My job entails the use of a computer Monday through to Friday, while my poetry is written using a laptop. Consequently I relish time away from electronic gadgetry, hence my disinclination to engage with technology yesterday evening.
I do, of course recognise the value of online reference books. Language is constantly evolving and it is not always convenient to lug a heavy dictionary around with one. However, when writing it is easy to go to one of the many online dictionaries, only to get caught up with online distractions such as webmail, social media etc. Had I the choice, I would not go online while writing but would rely on a good old-fashioned paper dictionary. However given the absence of braille dictionaries (as explained above) I have no option other than to use the internet. I will, however continue to avoid the temptation to go online during my leisure time, while reading for pleasure. We all, in my view benefit when we take a break from the World Wide Web and technology more generally.
Incidentally, for anyone interested in ascertaining the meaning of profanation, Merriam-Webster defines it as follows:
“the act or an instance of profaning”, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/profanation
There Was A Young Man Named Howl
There was a young man named Howl
Who owned a tawny owl.
Each night it would hoot
As he played the flute,
Which made his neighbours scowl!
Bent Magnets And Bad Pennies
Bent magnets attract the attention
Of bad pennies,
Although I know
Not which came first,
Nor which is worst
Did You Hear The Owl?
“Did you hear the owl?” I said, as we sat in my living room.
(It will be over soon.
The prey caught
I thought).
“No” you replied.
Twice more the bird cried
But you heard
Not a word
He said.
The bed
Was hot
And the owl you did not see
Forgot by me.
Swans
I must confess
That many a girl in a short dress
Has set my pulse racing.
I am forever chasing
The elusive swan,
Who is here then gone
Into the night sky.
I
Am a dry
Watering hole temporarily wet
By girls I forget,
‘Ere I move on
To another swan.