Bluffing.
Toughing it out.
The spider expects a rout
And does employ
The oldest stratagem to destroy
Her foe.
Hey ho
There is nothing new under the sun.
A few turn and run,
While others, having done
As the spider does ask
Find it an impossible task
To escape the pretty creature who spins
Her web composed of human sins.
A few demand
To see her hand.
A command
She can not fulfil.
The spider sulks,
Skulks away
And goes in search of other prey.
It had slipped my mind
But now I find
That it is National Poetry Day.
Poets will make hay
Or not
Depending on whether they have lost the plot.
I have got
No plot at all
So will my readers stall
With words that writhe
As they strive
To go somewhere.
Shall I write about a pair.
A clever play on pair and pare?
I swear
That the pair
I have in mind
Is more divine
Than any wine
One will find
In vineyard
Where maidens pick the hard fruit.
How long shall I pontificate?
For it is getting late
And National Poetry Day
Will soon pass away
Have I anything to say
Or do I merely play
With a word
Absurd
Which, joined with another,
(All words are brothers)
Forms a sentence perhaps,
Or do I collapse
Into something, I know not what?
Indeed, I believe that I have lost the plot.
Happy National Poetry Day! (http://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/http://nationalpoetryday.co.uk/).
For the blank
Stare
Of the fish tank,
thank
the shark
Who dwelt in the dark
He has had his wish
And eaten all the fish,
But can no longer glare
As consuming his source of food
Perforce
The reaper stark
Did intrude
And made the shark
His food …
There was a young lady called Una
Who went to sea in a schooner
She shared that boat
With a flatulent goat
And wished the journey was over sooner …!
IT IS always a temptation to an armed and agile nation
To call upon a neighbour and to say: –
“We invaded you last night – we are quite prepared to fight,
Unless you pay us cash to go away.”
And that is called asking for Dane-geld,
And the people who ask it explain
That you’ve only to pay ’em the Dane-geld
And then you’ll get rid of the Dane!
It is always a temptation for a rich and lazy nation,
To puff and look important and to say: –
“Though we know we should defeat you,
we have not the time to meet you.
We will therefore pay you cash to go away.”
And that is called paying the Dane-geld;
But we’ve proved it again and again,
That if once you have paid him the Dane-geld
You never get rid of the Dane.
It is wrong to put temptation in the path of any nation,
For fear they should succumb and go astray;
So when you are requested to pay up or be molested,
You will find it better policy to say: —
“We never pay any-one Dane-geld,
No matter how trifling the cost;
For the end of that game is oppression and shame,
And the nation that plays it is lost!”
—
There was a young lady called Jane
Who suffered a terrible pain
When she sat on a drawing pin.
Her friend did grin
And said, “no pain, no gain”!
You can’t kid
A kidder
Kiddo.
I did
Go
A-kidding
Long before you ever did.
So no, I won’t do your bidding
Kid!
Passion
Ashen
As a cold winter’s day.
The hounds bray
And he will go hunting for the sly fox.
They will box
In the dim light of morn.
Fate wont bother to yawn
And there will be a draw
As before.
Acting is your forte.
Your part you did play
(Was it really only yesterday)?
So incredibly well
That it was almost impossible to tell
What in your heart did dwell.
It was a mere sinch
To convince
Me you meant no harm.
But your charm
Should have sounded an alarm.
I know you to well
And the slight smell
Of doubt
Ought to have caused me to throw you out.
I suspect
Someone tells you your lines.
While I ought to have seen the signs
There is a grudging respect
For your acting skill.
I wonder will
You fluff a line
One fine day
And stand, tongue tied with nothing to say?
Surely your charm
Can not forever disarm
The suspicion
Of those who should recognise pedition.
Yes, one day you will trip
Slip
And fall off the stage.
The audience will turn
In rage
And learn
Who feeds you those almost perfect lines.
