There was a young lady called Ria
Whose view of the world was drear.
She lived all alone
In a castle of stone
With nothing to drink but beer!
There Was A Young Lady Called Ria
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Welcome to National Poetry Month – No Foolin’
April is National Poetry Month
All month long, we are encouraged to write poetry, read poetry, share it, perform it and celebrate the lives of poets you may know or not know!
The Academy of American Poets has a website filled with ideas, scheduled events and resources for teachers to foster an enthusiasm for poetry!
If you know a poet, check out some of their books…Oh, if you are reading this, you DO know a poet. My books can be found through my Author Central Page Nine of the twelve books I have available are strictly poetry books. And my most recent book, A Haiku Perspective 2018 is #1 Hot New Release in Japanese Poetry – Haiku on Amazon Kindle.
Thank you to all who appreciate the work of poets. Thank you to all who celebrate life through the writing of poetry. Thank you to all who believe in the…
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There Was A Young Man Called Guy
There was a young man called Guy
Who wrote a poem about I.
It wasn’t very long,
Being more of a song,
And I think that I was Guy!
Who Is The “I” In A Poem?
Who is the “I” refered to in a poem? Frequently (but by no means always) the “I” in question is the poet him/herself. We should not, however make the mistake of assuming that the “I” in a given poem does, necessarily refer to the person who has penned the poem. This issue receives attention here, https://wewritepoetryforum.wordpress.com/2018/03/31/poetic-tidbit-1-personas/.
Dogbotics
A friend, who works in the field of the biological sciences, informs me of a breakthrough in the sphere of human to animal communication. The development in question pertains to our canine friends and, as a dog lover of many years, I am delighted to be able to launch this exciting story upon the world.
My friend works in the little known field of Dogbotics. I must confess to not having heard of Dogbotics until I had the good fortune to become acquainted with my friend who, being of a shy and retiring disposition wishes to remain anonomous. Obviously being, as I am a man of the upmost integrity I will, of course respect the wishes of my dear friend and not reveal her identity.
Anyway, returning to the matter in hand, Dogbotics have developed a tiny chip which (when implanted into the neck of a canine) allows said animal to speak. I must confess to having been sceptical of this development until I heard it with my own ears. Imagine my surprise (I mean shock) when my own four-legged friend, Trigger (after having had the chip implanted) addressed me in the following manner:
“Hello, I’m Fido”.
Admittedly, his name is not Fido but (as mentioned above) Trigger. However his ability to voice in any manner (other than a growl, woof or whine) is truly staggering and will improve over time (or so my friend in Dogbotics informs me). In the meantime, I must remain content with such statements as that quoted above, together with such gems as
“Woof, I feel rough, that six day old pie I found in the street earlier is giving me a sore belly. Quick, I need to go outside!”.
I shall, of course keep you fully informed of the progresss of this exciting and innovative technology.
Kevin
There Was A Young Man From Dover
There was a young man from Dover
Who suffered from a terrible hangover.
When he called for the hair of the dog
His servant Hogg
Brought him a canine called Rover.
Too Much
I live too much in my head.
When I am dead
These words here said
May moulder in bookcases.
I hope they will be read
By those who’s faces
Are healthy with the glow
Produced by England’s country air.
When I go
Why should I care?
For I will not know
Whether it be so …
Some leave institutions behind.
I shall leave a piece of my mind
To be read
When I am dead
(or not as the case may be)!
It amuses me
To think what others may see
In scribbles left behind
By one who lived too much in his own mind.
There Was A Young Lady Named Lynn
There was a young lady named Lynn
Who wrote a treatise on original sin.
She was rather pretty
And extremely witty
And an expert on original sin!
Conspiracies
Conspiracy theory
Most dreary.
“Little green men are getting into my head”
He said.
“The Russians didn’t poison those people in Salisbury you know …”.
On and on they go
The crackpots who have heard or read
Something crazy and, of course it is true!
“The Jew
Is controlling the world and the holocaust is a lie”.
I wonder why people deny
History’s weight
And give way to hate.
The holocaust did take place
But weirdos and extremists after fantasies chase
While fake “historians” grin
And coin it in.
“Little green men” are harmless
While holocaust deniers are charmless
(But by no means harmless)!
Putin must be laughing up his sleeve
At the gullible idiots who believe
That Britain released a nerve agent on it’s own street.
So I greet
Each conspiracy theory
Most dreary
With a contemptuous smile
While
I bite my tongue lest my disdain
Is made plain in words.
Passed Masters
We pass by many things, day in, day out but how many of them do we really see?
I passed a masterpiece today
I passed a few what can I say?
We did the Prado, Thyssen too.
How many pictures? Barely know.
Caught Picasso, Tintoretto
Saw a Goya, a Titian or two.
Others we passed, what can I say?
We missed a few. It’s how things go.
Visitation, crucifixion
Salvation now annunciation.
Here’s another; come this way.
We wander past them to and fro.
That’s a Monet, and there’s a Bosch.
We can look but must not touch.
This one’s Durer, that’s El Greco
Velasquez here, some Reubens too.
Now a room of gentry, royalty.
Carlos third; we know that nose.
On and on and on it goes.
All we tourists passing through.
There’s classic figures nude, unclothed,
Pictures of heaven only knows.
Round and round and round we go.
So many rooms we just pass through.
Masters painted, sought perfection
Showed technique and dedication.
But we can’t…
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