On a royal visit by chance
Queen Liz spots a crew who breakdance
She throws down her bag
And cries 'sod one's jet lag'
'Dagnammit, I'm gonna get up n prance!'

It fascinates to ponder on
what lights a person's spark
What invokes an individual
To create a work of art
Would a sunrise inspire
poetic masterpiece
Or a mere brain ****?

Would the changing seasons
Bring writers blocks and wrongs
Or the falling leaf in the equinox
Make you wanna write songs?

To some a leaping cute spring lamb
Might give poetic joy in its wake
For others they forsee its beauty
On a top notch dining plate!

I lay spread out on 
My local shingle beach
Letting the pebbles 
Sift through my fingers
I consider the myriad
Shapes and forms they take.
The varying rust
Charcoal grey and mustard shades

I set myself a mission
In the multitudes
That the sea brings to my feet
I will find amongst the 
Copious cobbles
The ultimate pebble
Perfect and pleasingly
Quirky or smooth.

I become so absorbed by 
This sifting sorting 
Comforting process 
A simple quest
I forget myself
And my proximity to the waves 
Until i am splashed 
And soaked and 
Have to vow to take up
This valiant quest 
Another day.

Until then I have taken 
Home a few shortlisted
Candidates
And made a promise to stand up when
The winner is found
And make a little trumpet
Fanfare sound
And hold the stone aloft!

Bazooka that veruka
Wage war on your warts
Charge the canons against corns 
And ills of other sorts

Conscript regiments of Rennies
Antacid to supress indigestion 
Establish naval fleets  
Of fisherman friends sweets 
To banish nasal congestion

smear your chest with Vick
To ensure victory is quick
And if headaches ensue
Aspirin will win and subdue

If your enemy is constipation
Let  senna be your friend 
And if your throat is sore
Let strepsils make swift amends 

Show viruses they're not  welcome
Fight back with all your might
Give germs no easy terms
And soon you'll feel alright!

Bubbling up
Unabashed
Unbridled 
Uncontained

Volcanic
Inappropriate
Inadv­isable
Irrefutable

Eruption
Contagious
Infectious
Endemic

Free flowing
Molten
Life affirming 
Giggles!

Adrift on her very first voyage
With the sea coursing in through her bow
Lay the cruise ship, the S.S. Lumbago
There was scarcely a chance for her now
But Ahoy! On the western horizon
In a flurry of yellow and green
That ender of blight and a damsel’s delight
And he’s always on cue for his scene

It’s Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
It’s got seating for seventy people
And the service is well above par
There’s an adequate medical unit
And a modest but elegant bar
What more could a man ever dream of
In a Luxury Budgerigar?
Well…

The forests of England were burning
So the foxes escaped to the city
The badgers had taken to looting
And the squirrels had formed a committee
But who should arise from a manhole
With a confident gleam in his eye?
That destroyer of woes with a spring in his toes
And he’s quick with a witty reply…

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar!
With adjustable hose pipe attachment
It’s got wheels like a feathery car
The forests were dowsed and the fauna re-housed
With a three day retreat at a spa
It’s a thing to admire and surely acquire
The Luxury Budgerigar!
But…

Susan was stricken with sorrow
Twas her darkest, most fearful hour
A spider had wrestled her out of her bath
And set up his home in the shower
But who should jump out of the wardrobe
With an innocent look on his face?
That singer of shanties, remover of *******
And first in an obstacle race

Sir Patrick Stewart!
And his Luxury Budgerigar
With a sucker for spiders and beetles
That deposits them into a jar
There’s a tiny wee restaurant to feed them
It was given a Michelin star
A remarkable thing with retractable wings
Is a Luxury Budgerigar

So if you should be in a pet shop
And you see just the critter for you
Please heed this advice: make a note of the price
Then proceed to the back of the queue
When you ask for your preference of creature
Should it whistle, slither or waddle
Do as Sir Patrick Stewart did
And opt for the Luxury model

It was a glorious night for a moonlit flight
On Barry my Big Berkshire Boar
Huffing and puffing like flying was nothing
Over the treetops we’d soar

Well I never knew, that other pigs flew
As Darren came circling down
Sat proud on top his Gloucester Old Spot
Wow! What a wonderful sow

I’m sure I can claim that Darren was the same
As his jaw nearly dropped to the ground
For Darren and I, had pigs that could fly
And you don’t really see that around

“Hey your pig flies!” Darren wailed with surprise
“And we only just met for a drink”
“I didn't know you, had a flying pig too
  Just what would the other guys think!?”

So we soon made a pact, with our secret intact
Everything worked out just fine
Now we’re both out at night, when the weather is right
Racing our rare flying swine!

swallomp, swallomp
HE the,  
smallsmiled, muckfrumper
swiped at his scnocklezogger

HE, must be comin down
with a squiffsquizzley...
he hoped not....

HE just HATED visiting the
Tristlings they POKED
cold, fizzfiginflers in awkward places,
like under your
spiztigwungle
and down your
floppleplagger
and then, gives you,
two mattmuttertrogs,
to have instead of dinner
and says....
you should feel prankyfilck,
by coddleslidiggetty.

but in the meantime....
no more,
squiggl-ing, dibbl-ing,
pivbabl-ong or tonggypaffle.

HE, the smallsmiled, muckfrumper,
tapped his stotching,
three times,
spun on the toes of his
zibdinkers
and wished for
luck and good health.
it was too good a stonkploffli
day to have a, mickering,
sqiffsquizzley.

swomple, swomple,swomp...

My nose is out to get me
It’s giving me the fear
It sneaks about when I’m asleep
And whispers in my ear
But when my eyes are open
It’s clearly in my sight
I think I’ll have to stick it down
With Sellotape at night

My nose is pitched against me
When ever someone bakes
It drags me by my helpless face
And points me at the cakes
It leads me into trouble
And I’ve no choice but to follow
It has a lot of pulling power
Although it’s two-thirds hollow

My nose is trying to **** me
I think it’s lost the plot
It sometimes sits there dribbling
And twitching on the spot
It scowls at me with malice
And it’s evil nostrils flare
My nose is picking on me
And I'm slowly going spare

Sheesh!
I'm wetter than Lobster's sweater
Damp as Dolphin's socks
Dripping like Killer-whale's bikini bottoms
That she left to dry on some rocks.


I'm soggy as Otter's pockets
And soaked as Sea-lion's dungarees
Moist as the Trout's lipglossed pout
Saturated like an Eel's Levi jeans
;-p

I once knew a lass called Louise
Who had a penchant for smelly cheese
She got camembert
Stuck in her hair
And said 'that'll be good for the fleas!'