While I warned that some days would be a bit scant I thought the offering I originally planned for today a bit mean, given that it’s Easter Sunday. Then I remembered it’s a bit of a special one this year, so I wrote a second, longer, poem. This is the second one, and I’ll post the original at the bottom with its own intro…
A Day of Wonder
Let’s gather in the harvest
– Spaghetti’s good and ripe
The latest thing from Cadbury
Is chocolate-covered tripe
They’ve found the Loch Ness monster
There’s proof of Bigfoot too
And the green-eyed yellow idol
To the north of Kathmandu
There’s a valley in the amazon
Where dinosaurs still roam
In Tunbridge Wells a leprechaun
(Though some say he’s a gnome)
There’s a man they’ve found in China
Who’s a thousand summers old
In Greece they’ve found the city
That King Midas turned to gold
And –gosh! – they’ve found Atlantis
Lying deep beneath the sea
Oh wait… It’s April Fool’s Day…
Oh silly, SILLY me!
I’m not particularly religious (somewhere between atheist and cowardly agnostic), but this does annoy me…
Chocolate for breakfast
Chocolate for lunch
Breakfast too early?
Chocolate for brunch!
Afternoon egg hunt
Chocolate for tea
Gosh, I’m glad Jesus
Died for me.
I wrote a more grown-up take on this poem a few years ago, but of course the whole point of “Poem a Day” is that they’re all new. For those interested, the not new poem is HERE
Short and sweet (if you’ll excuse the pun), and topical…
Our chubby kids will soon be slim
The sugar tax will keep them trim
Aspartame’s fine, all tests assure
Now where have I heard that before… …
For a couple of years or so now I’ve enjoyed performing at open mics hosted by “Champagne” Charlie and Cockney sing-a-long maestro Tom Carradine, whose musical trips down memory lane are great fun and always packed to the gunnels with joyful punters. Not to detract from the spirit of Tom’s performances, the growing nostalgia for those simpler, more optimistic years between two world wars seems somewhat misplaced, and one song in particular, “Any Old Iron?” got me thinking about an aspect of modern life that troubles me deeply…
Any Old Irony
Come join our Cockney sing-a-long
In Bethnal Green today
Your favourites from the music halls
Are sure to get a play
We’ll be like proper Cockney folk
Who sang back in the day
Before we bought their houses
And packed them on their way
Whimsy and nostalgia this morning. Apologies if not your cup of tea…
Memories of Green
Yesterday the clocks sprang forward.
I awoke today to birdsong,
The distant peal of church bells,
And the taste of honey.
The air echoed with the creak and crack of thawing ice,
The brook, long stilled, babbling again
Over stepping stones and sharp bronze pebbles
And the fat backs of lazy brown trout.
What a day! What a frabjous day!
We throw poohsticks from the bridge,
The ripples they make as they hit the water
Stretching all the way back to ’67
And that summer of love
When we were very young.
I was thinking this morning that I probably write poetry / verse of some sort every day. This will vary from “Proper Page Poetry” (god ferbid!) to silly little humorous epigrams and limericks, but either way it’s pretty-much a daily occurrence. Many of the latter end up in my Facebook and Twitter feeds anyway, so I figure I might just as well keep this blog ticking along with ’em too.
Now whether I keep it up or not remains to be seen (the poems will be written, but remembering to post them may well prove a different fishy kettle altogether), but either way it sounds an interesting experiment. I may have to schedule post to cover holidays etc, but the plan is that all the stuff posted will be new. Much of it will be extremely flimsy, but I may slip the odd weighty epic in too. I may even gather up a year’s worth at the end of the year and do something with them (‘What a bonfire they would make,’ to quote Spike Milligan).
I will, of course, continue to post proper blogs from time to time, but will either post these separately or add the daily poem as an aside. I’m also going to avoid posting a different image every day as finding images can take up much more time than writing four line poems.
When will all this start? I don’t hear you cry, and, well, now would seem as good a time as any. I posted this little bit of nonsense on Facebook yesterday, but it gained a bit of attention this morning leading to several new variations on the theme. For those who don’t know my son, Ben, he’s a biggun…
A POME FOR BEN
When I was small
I wasn’t tall
In fact I was quite wee
But then I grew
And grew and grew
And now I’m six-foot-three*
* He’s actually six-four-and-a-bit but it didn’t rhyme.