Thursday, May 31, 2012


we are asked to use the words in blue


He was a jingle-writer; he wrote inside birthday cards.
He could never aspire to being one of those great Shakespearian bards.
He churned out 'merry' with 'berry' and 'funny' with 'sunny' as well,
And all his words were easy ones that any fool could spell.
His words had a ladidah rhythm, with rarely a mind-blowing phrase,
And other poets pointed out the error of his ways.
They said he should try writing sonnets, and iambic pentameters too,
And he very nearly believed their words and felt that they were true.
He grappled with 'proper poetry' but it really left him cold;
He published his own little booklet; not a single copy was sold.
He asked other proper poets if they earned any money at all
And each one replied 'Not really', all of them looking small.
Then he went into some card-shops and there was his work displayed!
Row upon row of the jingles for which he had been paid!
At last he felt vindicated! He felt quite smug and content.
Proper poetry fed the soul but it didn't pay the rent!


Ladies of a certain age, out for a docile stroll,
Saw the playground equipment and said 'Well! Bless my soul!
I feel like having a go at that! There's nobody here to see!
I'll pretend that I'm a monkey in the branches of a tree!'
So there and then they all skimmed up, some quickly, some sedately.
(It was easy to see, among the group, who hadn't exercised lately!)
Of course, I'd have been the most agile, climbing high as a giraffe,
But I was otherwise occupied, taking the photograph!
Yes I know it's Second Childhood, but, when all is said and done,
We ladies of a certain age still have a lot of fun!

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