When the pen takes control.

There was a certain young man of the church

he had a reputation that no one could besmirch

he thought that all the pews could do with a varnish

and that the brass on the lectern was tarnished

so in his sermon he called for some volunteers

but sadly his prayers fell on deaf ears

Whenever I see or hear the word above

it takes me back to a programme I loved

I refer to a show I was brought up on

the wonderful world of Monty Python

a memorable sketch in one of their shows

produced a line that everyone knows

it introduced us to Anne Elk (miss) she said

who had a theory about a dinosaur long dead

a brontosaurus she thought that tend

to be thick in the middle and thin at each end

I am often told that I don’t look 

like the type to be frightened by spooks

but of those spectres I have no fear 

for I also have been dead for years 

We pass the tree at the head of the lane

at least something remains the same

in the distance we see fields and hedgerows

soon to be covered with houses I suppose

but the sun doth shine, the sky is blue

let us stand awhile and enjoy the view

As fires tear through California and Trump sets back efforts to curb the rise of global temperatures, what can individuals do to make a difference?

How to start reducing your environmental footprint

A girl called Susan had a terrible stutter

so bad that she found it hard to utter

an answer to the simplest question in school

and all the girls in her class thought her a fool

then they would snigger and often call her names

so it made her too shy to join in with their games

but the boys thought she was a comely lass

and they would go and talk to her in class

all this attention made her feel quite good

so she’d play with them whenever she could

Forlorn boats sit upon the sand

the ebbing tide has left them stranded

their drunken masts reach for the sky

as old dead trees stand frozen lifeless

mooring buoys not joyful bobbing but

relaxing knowing a job well done

still holding fast the boatmen trust

though barnacle and weed encrusted

the hulls that lean haphazard crazy

will soon be roused from lazy slumber

when the moon from up on high

once again sends in the flooding tide

As the high white clouds drift through the air

standing on the hill below them I see a fair

with it’s helter skelter and tall big wheel

the inner child in me makes me feel

romantic, nostalgic because In truth

I could never resist fairs in my youth

bumping cars, caterpillar, music and lights

a source of great fun for both young and old alike

Occasionally I must confess

I dream of acts of wantonness

where suddenly without warning I get the urge

to couple with a lady, our bodily fluids to merge

Wet, still dripping from the outgoing tide

the white limpet shells nestle neath the slime

under the feet of those who lift their heads

to watch the new sun rise, having said

their last heartfelt sad goodbyes once more to

wives, friends, husbands, sons and lovers who

although with regret may leave their family

to spend time with a closer company