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Adopting my favourite languid pose

I casually glanced across the floor

All eyes fixed upon the door

as though waiting for it to close

The air was charged, tensions high,

no one breathed or even dared

to move, whilst a host of people stared

in awe at the now departing pair

so jealous of their regal air

As I took a stroll down Lambeth way

I looked up and to my surprise

I thought,”Well, he is having a bad day,

that poor elf has been crucified.”

So when I asked if he was okay

He said,”I’m glad my wrists are tied,

They hung me up here for a reason

but they seem to have the wrong season.”

I paid a visit to Morgan

A player of the church organ

I thought that he might need a lift

So I thought I would take a gift

My idea was a poor one

For when I arrived at his place

Outside the door was his wife Grace

She greeted me then gave a sigh

And she told me the reason why

He had vanished without a trace.

Though considered mad

the sane did not condemn his

self-mutilation

At the auction I bought a nice antique

I thought I had got a real bargain

My wife looked at it and said it looked a bit bleak

She wouldn’t like it in her garden

I said concrete statues are now on trend

Her doubting me started to niggle

She would not believe what I had to spend

It was then that she started to giggle

When late at night there came a knock

before getting up I looked at the clock.

It clearly showed it was well past ten

We weren’t used to getting any callers then

My wife said, “Don’t you open that lock.

You can never tell who it might be,

just go upstairs, from the window you’ll see

if we can then safely open the door

then we will need to worry no more.

While you’re upstairs I will find the key.”

With jaunty tail curl,

boater in place, cane gripped in paw

feel quite the Topcat

A Devonshire poet called Doug

Found himself in a fug

Tried to write something exotic

But found it quixotic

So gave it up with a shrug