Tuesday, 29 December 2015

Instant Poetry from the Subconcious

If you start to write a poem
But have no idea
What you plan to say
Will it all go Hunky Dory
Or turn out mad like yesterday
I mean do people want
To hear of the waves
And sea monsters in the ocean
Or algebra and Maths and stuff
Or nudists frolicking
In a suggestive motion
That is before the police . . . . of course
Arrive and chase them away
Or of superheroes with super powers
Or the heroic deeds of fighting men
Or a tiny hobbit eating porridge
In a cave that’s dark and grey
But one thing I know
Of which I am certain
My poetry will never be read
By the likes of Richard Burton
Ooooooo I know people
Will pat me on the back
And say you did your best
for a chap called Rob
But to tell the truth
Being Poet laureate
Is more a vocation than a proper job?
And that poem you wrote about the seagull
Was very popular
Until in verse one hundred and three
Where is was savaged by a Zombie Eagle
Hang on didn’t
Last nights Poem end with a Zombie Hen
I appear to have gone full circle
And arrived back at the start of then

What . . . . . . .  No It Ok this Poem will be Read

Who . . .  . . . . . OK I know Richard Burton’s Dead

The End . . . . . . . or is it



  1. Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor
    Say, hello sailor
    We like how you tailor
    Without failure
    Random prose
    That grows and grows
    Don't you knows
    No end
    My friend
    A toast.

    Gary, Gary, quite contrary....

    1. I love fresh toast with butter on and maybe a little Marmite.

  2. Replies
    1. I think I can safely say all of them, but in particular Sir Richard Francis Burton KCMG FRGS the Explorer and the famous Welsh one