There once was a careless young guy
Who fell into some very sharp cacti.
He said with a squeal,
“These are the real deal!”.
Then sighed and died from those cacti!
The Careless Young Guy
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Tag Archives: croydon poets
Barmaid
She says that she used to see me
On her way to school.
As she pours my usual drink, I think
Of Larkin’s “The Old Fools”.
And I cast around for something to say
About my so ordinary day
Midnight Poetry
As I sat reciting poetry at midnight
I spied a young lady dressed in white.
When I said, “are you a ghost!”,
She said, “no! I’m your host!
And your poetry woke me up at midnight!”
Pistols in Bristol
There once was a man from Bristol
Who was famous for his antique pistol.
When he gave a great cough
That old gun it went off!
There once was a man from Bristol …!
The French Dancer
I know a young lady from France
Who likes to dance on a high branch.
When she’s in the mood
I’ve seen her dance nude –
But not on a very high branch!
A Young Lady of Ill Repute
I know a young lady of ill repute
Who has great skill in playing the flute.
Her friend Miss Morgan
Plays the vicar’s organ –
They say he’s a man of great repute …!
Conkers Found in My Desk Drawer
I found 2 conkers in my desk drawer.
I could return them to the forest floor
Where they would rot and be one
With fruits and flowers long since gone.
Autumn is in the air,
Yet I do not care
To return them to the ground.
A thought, perhaps profound,
We are all bound
To join Mother Nature’s great store
When we, as leaves fall
And become as one
With generations long gone.
Conkers may be put away
In a drawer.
But Autumn’s fall
Says all things must decay.
When a Beautiful Young Lady from Harwich
When a beautiful young lady from Harwich
Went and boarded a first class carriage,
And a ticket collector named Glass
Said, “this ticket is second class!”.
She said, “but I am proposing marriage …!”
Out of Tune
As I sat composing poetry
On a windswept afternoon
In the garden.
I heard all the windchimes
Sounding out of tune.
And then came the rain
To mock me
And my poetry.
As the Wind Blows
As the wind blows
The sunshade creaks
And windchimes discordantly speak.
Who knows
Where all this goes
When I sleep.
