bits and bats and sticks and stones and pics and pomes

Silly Limericks


If you want to avoid rampant blight
Don’t water tomatoes at night
The soil will be boggy
The stems will go soggy
And you’ll wish that you’d treated them right.


I set out to explore, map in hand
And the countryside air is quite grand
Yet the paths, though quite clear
On the maps, disappear
When I’m out there, surrounded by land.

Kate the Great

There once was a lass, Kate the great,
who wanted more love on her plate
So she strung up a horse
as her second course
But was crushed to death under its weight.

Cosmetic Surgery, anyone?

There was a young woman called Flavia
Who suffered from large little labia
For grade ‘a’ as a wife
She went under the knife
of a surgeon who posed as her saviour.

August 2008

Blue Cow

There should be a rainbow and a picture for each couplet. Each rainbow colour should merge into the corresponding picture of a cow...

Blue cow
Moo cow?

Red cow
Dead cow?

Yellow cow
Mellow cow?

Green cow
Mean cow?

Indigo cow?
Where’d ‘e go, cow?

Violet cow
File it, cow.

Orange cow
Don’t be silly. Everyone knows you can’t rhyme anything with orange.

11 Feb 08  - prompt - blue cow.

Christmas Riddles

Hauled from the forest

Brought inside

Bright with flames

at Christmastide.



Today’s the day he visits

children good and bad.

For good ones he brings sweeties,

but watch out, naughty lad

or lass. Beside him there’s a helper

who seeks out those who sin.

He puts them in his sack

and wipes away their grin.

6th Dec 2007

When we’re children we learn to sing
The songs that tell the ancient story
Of a baby in a manger, shepherds on a hill
And crowds of angels in clouds of glory.

It’s tall and thin
And stands up high
Sending the smoke
Out to the sky

Inside there’s soot
From the fire-back
Santa’s red coat
Must get quite black.

In Pensive Mood

I walked through the mirror,
Took a pen in my wrong hand
Wrote backwards across the paper.
I held a glass of champagne
I looked at it and wondered
Why do the bubbles go down?

4th March 05.

Play on

Written from word prompts in under 30 minutes.

We have landed bit parts in I Pagliacci
Wandering players on the boards of life
Turning life's dark moments into entertainment,
In the alembic of some writer's pressured brain.
Canorous or strident and discordant
Our voices rise in search of more than silver
Nervous feet unsteady on the girders
The focus of the spot hugs us too close
Exposing the blonde artifice and greasepaint.
A gimcrack plot the author has bestowed on us
Berate him not, the poor sod did his best
And when late night performances are over
I'll seek my consolation in the dressing room
A glass of gin, harsh comfort for my soul.



Of egg-plants and omelettes

I guess you’ll never make an egg-plant 
without cracking a few shells,
the ones you’ve tip-toed on so lightly 
scared of waking krakens from the deep. 
But  once those bottom-feeding monsters
show their heads and then their bums
you’ll never get them back inside the eggs.
They’ve grown so big and bad and ugly 
that if you throw them in the skillet
you’ll never make an omelette of them now.


Now you see it....

We hardly noticed,
it was so gradual.

The Eiffel Tower went first,
the London Eye,
then Golden Gate,
Manhattan’s skyline eroded like horse’s teeth.

The Grand Canyon disappeared
and we had to ration Google Earth.

Posh and Liz
shelled out thousands
to plaster over the cracks.

Paparazzi are the new goalies
you bribe them to fix matches.
(Concentrate on his feet, mate,
just his feet.)

A flash in the street -
shoppers dive for cover.

Images steal the real.

April 2007

Half written idiocy

Are none but Men allowed to Dip

And gorge themselves on Cheddar

Or chew the Valley of the Lake


June 2007