I remember the first time.
Not quite a one night stand
For I saw
Her at least once more
And write this rhyme
To set down what was not
Quite the first time,
But, for better (or worse)
She was the first
Of her kind.
I shall say no more
For to bore
Is rude
And this rhyme
About another kind
Of first time
May be viewed
As boring and crude
By those who
Through their Pangloss glasses
See only pure
Unboring lasses
A professional tease
Paid to please
Is she
And he pretends
The women you see
Are his girlfriends.
While the smile
On her lips
Never slips
When a young man named Keith
Said, “love, ’tis often brief”,
His girlfriend Lou
Said, “that’s true,
You have already finished Keith!”.
Flowers in my living room
Now in full bloom,
Will be gone soon.
—
I spent a long time yesterday attempting to compose this poem, and ended up throwing away several drafts. Part of Friday evening had been spent with friends in a wine bar, which may or may not have impacted on my ability to get the above poem right.
Simon Armitage has been appointed as the UK’s new Poet Laureate, replacing the former holder of that position, Carol Ann Duffy. The Daily Telegraph has an interesting article on the appointment which can be found here, https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2019/05/10/xxx/
There once was a writer named Moon,
(Or was that his nom de plume)?
At any rate
My friend Kate,
Has told me her nom de plume!
When I asked my good friend Miss Wood,
“Do you think you could . . .?”,
She said, with a smile,
“You have wit and style,
But I really don’t think I should . . .”.
Her, lying there,
So innocent and fair
In slumber.
Soon she will wake
And make
Her way home.
He got her number
From that place of dreams and regret
– The internet . . .
When scientists have analysed you and me,
To the nth degree,
And found that there is nothing ethereal
And we are merely
Genetic material,
What will be
Left of you and me
Save for genes
And mechanical dreams?
I take you at night
In dreams,
But it is not quite right,
And all is not as it seems
