Bye Musty, must trot off myself. You too

Absolutely beautiful. X

Thanks Keyser

Time for a cheer up me thinks .

Accidents Will Happen !

Mr Fumble was his name, all his life a dropper
He’d pick a jar from off the shelf and soon it came a cropper
So fed up became his wife she sent him to the doctor
But as he sat down in the chair, he fell and duly socked her.

‘I see we have a problem here’ , moaned the medic agitated
‘I’ll prescribe a pill to steady things , take one a day as stated’
‘Come back in a week or two, we’ll see if you’re complying ’
‘ Thank you doc, I’ll do just that’, stood up and knocked her flying

The next day came he took his pill and waited for its action
His wife dared take her helmet off so sure of the reaction
As hours ticked by well pleased was he, no thing of worth was cracked
Out for a walk he took himself, once dishes carefully stacked.

Along the path he skipped and sang, no lampposts were head butted
And at the local paper shop, along the aisle he strutted
‘No broken things to pay today’ he laughed to the assistants
Who popped up from behind the till, as normally kept their distance

The week went well without a bump, no injuries had happened
And all his bruising set to fade as previously he’d blackened
Then all at once he heard a squeal, his wife was soon to spoil it
Helmet back upon her head , cried ‘I’ve dropped your pills right down the toilet !’

no it's not a dead art but it's not a profession as for me

I laughed inside at the above line Imagine if you caught that, it'd be like being drunk all the time Great funny poem BB

I think I upset a friend last night, I got so bladdered I can't remember nowt Oh well, it won't be my first pub ban if it is one

Each to their own Mia

English Treasure

Queen Boudicca's calibre
Arthur's sword Excalibur
Poppies at the Cenotaph
Gandalf and his magic staff,
Melancholy verse by Keats
Triffids on deserted streets
Dramas known as kitchen sinks
Sunny singles by the Kinks,
Dreams that Millais left behind
Country lanes that tend to wind
Looming Stonehenge megaliths
Dover's line of chalky cliffs,
Betjeman and William Blake
Bluebird speeding on the lake
Alfred Hitchcock, Robin Hood
Roast beef next to batter pud,
Pots of tea for pick-me-ups
Non-league teams in FA Cups
Cornish bays with little boats
Kenneth Williams anecdotes,
Vintage cars that need a push
Lily Langtry and Kate Bush
Enid Blyton's Noddy tales
Supertramp, the Yorkshire Dales,
Fish and chips and shepherd's pies
Eric Morecambe, Ernie Wise
Tommy Cooper's scarlet fez
Whistle Down The Wind and Kes,
Village taverns, Desperate Dan
Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man
Sunlight on the Pennines Way
Skies of unrelenting grey,
Alan Bennett, Morrissey
Weston-super-Mare by sea
Peter Pan, a bear named Pooh
And The Long Good Friday too,
Henry Tudor's lengthy reign
HG Wells and Michael Caine
Winston Churchill, Rubber Soul
English treasure makes me whole.


©

No. Poetry is still very much alive. Although, it's not a money maker, but it calms you down. But I see students nowadays are losing interest in poetry as they find it hard but we are trying to find interesting ways like Flashcards to make them interesting, understand and remember.

With Acknowledgement and Thanks To Mr M For His Inspiration

Love tearing us apart again
Anthony Neil Wedgwood Benn
Fish and chips by the sea
Slice of lemon with Earl Grey Tea
Heaven knows I'm miserable now
Fred Dinenage saying 'How'
BBC's Match of the Day
The chorus of Glad To Be Gay
Bletchley Park, Alan Turing
Three Lions never roaring
The glory of Waterloo
The terror of Peterloo
I Am The Resurrection
My grandad's cigarette card collection
Shakespeare's plays
Rainy days
Summer haze
Latest craze
Sunday laze
Hampton maze
Salary raise
Songs of Praise
These are the days
Of our lives . . .

I just love this BB

Mr Grumpy

''He's a grumpy old git''
so everyone says
''Very bad tempered
and set in his ways''
I looked at him,
his weathered face.
I watched him walk
a strange gait without grace.
He didn't speak
he seemed to glare,
just muttered a bit,
had an unfriendly stare.

But the next time I saw him
I gave him a smile
Said "hello, how are you?"
and we chatted awhile.
I could see, at first
he was taken aback.
Then he smiled too
He wasn't under attack!
Be nice if you can
Is the way I see it
and you know, I found
He's NOT a grumpy old git!

I wonder how the poem would have gone if he'd told you to p*** off !

The Sleeping Grurg

In the land of Spod, where the sky is red,
And the ground is purply blue,
Slept a grurg called Nod, in an upright bed,
With a wilt of malm and wrew.

And the grurg blew snores, that upset the gnids,
Who lived in his gnarbled ned,
So they filled their gores, with some zerted fids,
And yurlfuls of harbled bread.

But the grurgley snores, shook the ned’s old quibs,
Then rattled it’s tindley hard,
So the poor uddled gnores, packed their tews and vibs,
And moved to the brnidley brard.

Claps Loudly !
Lets hope Nod doesn't meet any slivey toves in the brnidley brard

PS. I bet that took some getting passed autocorrect

Thanks!

I used a PC. If I had used my Ipad it would take me about three weeks to write that.

Clattering fiasco

Twas the sounds of a clattering fiasco
to find the tray to bake a cake
for a friend who came around
to bring a dress for her to wear
for the ball to meet her prince
she clattered those pots and pans

The sun came out at midnight
and flooded the air with light,
slowly curtains opened,
sleepers woken by the golden light.

Faces pressed against glass,
eyes focusing, confused heads,
clocks checked, double takes,
sleepers rising from their beds.

Late (or early?) morning chorus
broke into the sunlit night
as doors slowly opened
onto the surreal sight.

Step out into the road,
the drive, avenue and street,
look up with squinting eyes,
and feel the living heat.

Neighbour turned to neighbour
to share a silent thought,
the common question known,
an impossible answer sought.

The sun came out at midnight
and flooded the air with light,
confusion, anger, fear, terror,
burnt out this wondrous sight.

I take that as a great compliment from you Scottie Nice to see the Stone Roses in there and I liked the ending too - possibly a Queen reference?

Sandy You've been much missed! I loved this and saw images of a chaotic kitchen

Possibly a result of the wrong poets being taught Kyle. I was fed a diet of Thomas Hardy, whose novels are acknowledged to be much better than his verse. I also found Shakespeare deadly dull (and still do). It wasn't until I was taught Ted Hughes that poetry came brilliantly alive. No teacher mentioned John Betjeman either, a truly great poet the establishment shuns.

The dread march of technology is stunting young imaginations too. But poetry isn't a dead art, as this thread proves in a small way

I can't wait to catch up on the rest of the posts, this page is one of the best I've read yet Time is pressing sadly, so I'll pop in on Saturday

The Sleeping Grurg awaits

American Gothic

When Andrew Wyeth painted that
Intractable Maine sky,
I stared at it until I asked
Why did Christina lie
Abandoned in her lonely field,
Why did life pass her by?

The hunter hunts a boy and girl,
It's Robert Mitchum's look
That makes you glad they sail away,
Of Mice and Men, the book
Where Lennie held the pretty wife
And strangled till she shook.

The catcher in the rye exists,
In Blue Velvet I sense
Behind the ordinary home
And painted picket fence
The darkness of suburbia,
A secret so intense.

Deserted are the Kansas plains,
They whisper restlessly
Where Truman wrote his story of
The Clutter family,
He captured mankind in cold blood,
Along with Harper Lee.

She wrote of childhood innocence
And hatred being stirred,
If Boo Radley steps on your porch
Or if a creak is heard
Remember it's a mortal sin
To kill a mockingbird.


©

Everyone knows a grumpy old git Great write Ruth, this could be about Victor Meldrew 'The smile that you send out returns to you' - I like that saying

I thought we'd covered all bases here but this is a first - a nonsense poem that echoes Lewis Carroll and Spike Milligan

I've never seen so many red lines in a quote A true feat of the imagination, well done Elyan

What a superb piece - no explanation's given for the sun's appearance at night; I feel the poem's more about people's reactions to the unknown. The 'confusion, anger, fear, terror' that extinguish a lovely sight. A poem this good really should have a title Scottie