MY POETRY

I am an admirer of Lorraine’s work, and would recommend taking a look at her blog. Kevin

blindzanygirl's avatar

I’m really not that sophisticated! I write poetry from my heart. It might not be “up there” with the good poets, but I try to put into words feelings and experiences the best way that I can. Feelings and experiences of all kinds.

I have done many poetry courses and got Diplomas and things. It was on those courses that I learned the different forms of poetry, and discovered a certain freedom in writing to a particular form, and i am always eager to learn new forms. I am not good at writing free verse. It seems to muddle me, although I sometimes do it.

Mostly I naturally seem to write mirror cinquains. I have tried to work out in my head why that is, but I don’t know. It just seems to come naturally to me.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that my poetry cones from my heart…

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There Once Was A Poet From Gwent

There once was a poet from Gwent
Who, having all his meagre earnings spent
In his local sauna,
On pretty Miss Lorna.
Composed a poem about paying the rent!

The Fryer’s Hair Dryer

When I met an extremely wizened old fryer
Drying my wet lawn with his hair dryer,
And I said, “why dry this grass?”.
He said, “sir, all things must pass”.
And I wept over that fryer’s hair dryer!

Sally

I know a young lady named Sally
With whom I’m more than just pally.
She often visits my house,
But not with her spouse.
As with him I’m not that pally!

My Birthday

When a silver-haired poet known as Kevin
Said, “I grow ever nearer to sweet heaven
As I turned 52 today”,
A young lady named Fay
Said, “you’re drunk and its not yet 7!”.

Wicked Miss Lou

When a wicked young lady named Lou
Tied me up to poor Miss Sue,
I said to Pearl,
“You’re a good girl”.
But that girl she joined in too!

Loose Morals

When a young lady riding a goose
Said, “my morals are so incredibly loose”,
The men gave a great roar.
But the goose said, “no more!
Young lady, your morals are too loose!”.

When A Vicar Named Warner

When a vicar named Warner
Walked into a backstreet sauna,
And religious Miss Fay
Said, “shall we pray?”.
That greatly confused vicar Warner!

In Memory of

A bench replete
With flowers,
In winter’s wood.
Hours
Incomplete,
Marked by a stone
Clock with lost hands.

We go into the unknown
Wood.
But, perhaps a bench may stand
To commemorate
Those who, of a late
Winter afternoon,
Think on nature’s passing bloom.

When I Met A Group Of Young Women

When I met a group of young women
Intent on a good time and sinning.
I said, “my dear girls
Take care of your pearls!”.
They answered, “sir, we lost them whilst sinning!”.