Tag Archives: Rhyme

Regret

My choice
To struggle in a moist
Pasture.
This lawn
Forlorn, screams disaster.
And after,
A shower
Will wet
And cleanse the outer man,
Yet no shower can
Kill regret,
Or make the soul
As in the beginning, whole.

A Compliment From A Stranger

This morning, I popped out for breakfast. As I was in the process of leaving the pub, a gentleman acosted me and asked, “are you the guy who writes poetry?” somewhat surprised, I replied in the affirmative. He then proceeded to relate how he had bought 2 of my books in the local bookstore as a birthday present for his sister, and how much she had enjoyed reading them. Naturally I thanked him for having purchased my books, expressed pleasure that his sister had enjoyed reading them, and left the pub with a feeling of happiness at the thought that a reader had derived enjoyment from my work.

 

The books purchased by the gentleman where “Lost in the Labyrinth of My Mind” http://moyhill.com/lost/, and “My Old Clock I Wind” http://moyhill.com/clock/, both of which have been kindly stocked by my local bookstore, The Bookseller Crow on the Hill, https://booksellercrow.co.uk/.

Whilst I have received many lovely comments on this website regarding my poetry, and compliments from family and friends concerning my books, its a rare treat to receive a compliment from a stranger. So via this post I would like to take the opportunity to thank the gentleman who purchased my books and, of course his sister for reading “Lost” and “My Old Clock”. I am delighted that she derived pleasure from my poetry.

Kevin

The Establishment

When a young man whose name is Franks
Said, “the establishment they always close ranks!”.
And I replied, “how so?”,
He said, “get off my big toe!
You’re the establishment, and you always close ranks!”.

I Saw A Girl, Of Sunlight

I saw a girl, of sunlight
Who followed me
From tree to tree.
A spirit of delight
Was she,
A nymph of air
Who did so lightly pass
Over the yielding grass,
But one may taste,
But never take
The summer air.

Armchair

A room bare
Save for an ancient armchair
Where old newspapers encircle
That which was once there.

—

The above poem was inspired by a true story, related to me by my colleague Chris.

Wednesday Morning Humour

There was a young lady named Lou
Who was fond of the high-heel shoe,
But when she wore them in bed
Her mother’s face turned bright red,
And she said, Lou, “this really wont do!”.

—

A young lady named Lou
Is fond of the high-heel shoe.
Her boyfriend called Ted
Sleeps under the bed,
And Lou, she sleeps with her shoe!

—

My friend whose name is Hogg
Lives near an ancient peat bog.
His young wife Moriah
Does my poetry inspire,
Whilst Hogg’s away in that bogg.

Attraction

Men see
A short skirt
And, attracted by legs
Think of beds
And flirt.
And me,
Being blind
What do I find
To attract
And distract
In she?
Is it personality,
Or am I
Just a regular guy,
Your average, he?

When A Socialist Named Grub

When a Socialist named Grub
Walked into a Conservative club,
And they asked, “why are you here?”,
He said, “I’ve heard about the beer.
I believe that its very good!”.

I Have No Wish To Leave These Dark Trees

I have no wish to leave
These dark trees.
I drink
The fresh summer air.
For a moment forget my care
And think
On Frost’s poetry,
That o’re shadows me

Larkin Said We Think On Death

Larkin said we think
On death when drink
And friends are not around,
As there is nothing To distract
Us from the profound
Truth that you and I
Will die.

As I sit in this pub, alone
Drinking coffee
I reach for my phone
But Larkin stops me
Dead, and, with a clear head
I see
The truth the poet did see.