In dreams
It sometimes seems
That dark
Fantasy is reality.
In art we see
A kind of reality.
While inside the dreaming mind
Hides the truth of art.
In dreams
It sometimes seems
That dark
Fantasy is reality.
In art we see
A kind of reality.
While inside the dreaming mind
Hides the truth of art.
My great friend the late Lord Kettle
Said, “I am quite unable to settle”.
Then he made some tea,
Which he shared with me,
In a place that’s known as Settle.
You praised polyamory.
As for me
I am not polyamorous
But you, being glamorous,
I found time
To rhyme
And discuss polyamory
With thee …
On my way home
I pause for drink.
Then go to bed alone
And think,
‘Ere I sleep
Of my work and play
On the coming day.
Yet, I may
Forever stay
In sleep.
When a young lady whose name is Lou
Said, “watch out as I’m coming for you!”.
And I said, “are you a ghoul,
She said, “no! you stupid old fool!
I’m Lou, and you’ve just stolen my shoe!”.
When a young lady named Kate
Said, “Kevin, you really do procrastinate!”.
I said, “I beg your pardon!
But I am doing this garden!
But perhaps the garden can wait …!”.
Corporate types programme their likes
Into computers,
Where they are heard
By commuters
And a middle-aged poet
Who romanticises vinyl,
And exchanges a final word
With the barmaid,
Who doesn’t remember vinyl.
A careless young lady named Mar
Is known for losing her bra.
While her friend Coral
Is really quite moral
Though I’ve sometimes found her bra …
I forget the last time.
But often look
In dusty books
And find pleasure in rhyme.
I still feed my need
With verse from volumes
Full of musty scent.
But there is another perfume
Of which I sometimes repent
A man whose name was Wood
Said my poetry was no good.
In the forest dark
His end was stark.
But my alibi it was good …