It's been said that the darkness
with the moon in the sky
speaks of the night time
though morning is nigh
Not that you'd know for
there's no light in sight
not even an inkling
in the blackness of night
Yet what is that glow
in the east very feint?
Yes, that is the the day
though at present it ain't!
It's 'twos day' here a play on words
but rightful when you think
of all the 'twos' that on this day
pass by in just a blink
Twenty-second of the second
month in twenty-two
and falling on a Tuesday
so it seemed the thing to do
Gave the back garden
a bit of a trim
as it's amazing how quickly
the state it gets in
So the bushes out there
got a short back and sides
to give us more light
as each evening provides
Vibrant these oranges
capture the light
looking lovely for photos
and my appetite
But for this still life
I have to confess
that the picture you see
is one orange less
Yesterday come teatime
as today I can now speak
I finished what can only
be described as a long week
For I’d done my level best
as each day came and went
and failed most days as longer
hours on each I’d spent
But now I can relax
in a host of different ways
as now I am on leave
for at least the next six days
Past sixty equilibrium
Is not what it once was
As balance sometimes fails
When you’re standing still because
Just the other afternoon
I found myself laid flat
When toppling from a bicycle
I’d stopped on, that’s a fact
So what did he do
on the beach when not working?
the question was asked
with appropriate smirking
Apt one would say
with no conviction of doubt
when all of the story of
the truth it gets out
We had a little visitor
who startled us last night
there behind the cupboard glass
perched and in plain sight
A little chap, brown and petite
his presence now declared
though how he found his way in there
was not something he shared
I thought I’d write a poem
but my pen was really hot
I’d left it out in sunshine
so the poem it was not
At least for just a while
til the pen it had cooled down
then I could write the words
on this page without a frown
The free range pigs
up on the hill
honk a bit
as pigs they will
Yet strangely
in a little bit
you’ll find that
you are used to it
Just as well
as past first stile
their habitat
goes on for miles
We had a tree growing
out of the front wall
which I’m sorry to say had to go
For though it was fine
its roots had entwined
and had threatened the wall, don’t you know
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
was feeling a bit glum
He had to wear the ‘cone of shame’
for stitches in his bum
It wasn’t very comfortable
and he wasn’t all that sure
why he was made to wear it
and what it all was for
And so it is to Bradford
on another winter night
I find myself at Noble Comb
with time to sit and write
It’s fairly packed this evening
with families eating out
and workers sharing pints of beer
their voices raised to shout
And here I am again
with a pint at Ye Olde Trippe
Waxing lyrical I write
as rain goes ‘drip, drip, drip’
Poetic license there you say
well yes, I quite agree
but as it rhymes I added it
with (I’ll admit) a ‘tee tee hee’
Poet's Corner 