"trott" poems
Gypsy-whippsy
swishing tail
trott on spindley legs
and drink gallons of water
the ball? No I didn't ask you to bring me the ball
Can't you see that I'm trying to write
won't you leave me alone mutt?
but you wont you keep emploring
with big floppy brown eyes
and a cold wet nose
the bone? NO I didn't ask for it either!
Sheesh where do you get off stealing my time
since when did you pay rent?
I say as I toss the ball away
and look down at the keyboard once more
only to find in the corner of my eye
the ball trotting back to me
on spindley legs
and laughing brown eyes
knowingly drop the ball in my lap;
this is what I needed to do
write now
Apr 24, 2012
Apr 24, 2012 at 2:14 PM UTC
A bright lad called Alistair Cook
Did enjoy the occasional book,
He went out to bat,
NO - don't play at that,
They did him; line, sinker and hook.
On him I'd bet my whole house,
More like a lion than a mouse,
He bats with aplomb,
Both dainty and strong,
It can only be Andrew Strauss.
From the pavilion did Jonathan Trott,
Nervous and anxious he is not,
He'll be there for a while,
All England will smile,
And South Africa know he is hot.
Next in is the feisty KP,
His batting, the top of the tree,
Sixes so great,
They should be worth eight,
Now just stay IN for a hundred or three!
A chap from ooop north who is good,
Goes by the name of Paul Collingwood,
Gritty and tough,
We just can't get enough,
Fight as hard as him, we all should.
No more will the fear he smell,
He's been down to the gym as well,
His batting is slick,
Number six does the trick,
The crowd cheers for Ian Bell.
Swinging his bat, it's Matt Prior,
Born with iron grit, steel and fire,
If he holds each catch,
We'll win the match,
And his ranking will go much higher.
Our spinner is next, Mr Swann,
His bowling is coming on strong,
His batting is great,
Which the opposition hate,
Not to pick him much sooner was wrong.
Our tall quickie is young Stuart Broad,
His bat is a rapier like sword,
He can oft' bowl too short,
Yet the batters get caught,
And Of wicket-taking we never are bored.
James Anderson is our king of swing,
Late movement his favourite thing,
Please bowl nice and full,
Offer nothing to pull,
And just hear those stumps go 'ping'.
Graeme Onions comes in at long last,
Cannot bat but, he can bowl fast,
He makes them play,
While others may stray,
Durham long-hops a thing of the past.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 10:59 PM UTC
Oh to be outstanding
The envy of the competition
Persecute your staff
Beat them into submission
Observe, observe, observe
Big brother's watchful vision
Ticking the right boxes
OFSTED the clinical prison.
Countdown to the tension
All pristine and plush
Staff room full of imodium
Lecturers with the bums rush.
Enjoy, achieve, the mantra
All students must behave
Differentiation ********
Woah betide should 1 disengage.
Good with outstanding features
Nearly there, thou shalt not rest
Cut the ******** principal
Its really second best.
Satisfactory & beyond
The prin is hot to trott
Arranging special measures
You'll all be ****** shot.
OFSTED, jack boot people
Gestapo in the making
Strangling education
Ensuring you're all faking.
Inspectors, nah! Failed teachers
Getting their own back
Splitting hairs & picking faults
Nasty ****** *****
Oh how the mighty fall
So without further ado
Leave them teachers alone
OFSTED, you ***** **** YOU.
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 3:56 AM UTC
Hösten vandrar norrut
Små steg
Denna vackra årstid
som släcker hopp
och väcker liv i
det trott utdöda
Tidigt på morgonen
brinner träden
som sol
som längtan
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
Hoffnung hintern Berg vergraben
hörst um dich herum tausend stimmen die etwas sagen
Jeden Tag fröhlich pfeifend losmaschiert
im trott drin, den Schmerz mit einem Lächeln kaschiert
Der Rückweg zeigte jeden Tag das Ergebnis
war meistens für mich ein traurig Erlebnis
Stumm mit leisen Tränen
der Körper ausgelaugt
kaum zu sehen, nur am gähnen
war tapfer daheim,
zeigte keinem mein trauriges dasein
Wenn ich rede, wird es schlimmer,
da standen sie mir drohend gegenüber, die Gewinner
mit ihrem breiten Lächeln geschmückt
waren von meinem leid mehr als nur entzückt
Genießten die Macht die sie umgab,
immer wieder aufs Neue, jeden verdammten Tag
Seele brutal zerschlagen
nicht nur die Taten, auch das was sie zu mir sagten
ohne Rücksicht auf die Auswirkungen die kommen werden,
hatte mir in der Zeit mal vorgestellt wie es wäre zu sterben
keinen mut mehr zu haben,
sich unter seinem eigenen wert zu vergraben ...
Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 4:59 PM UTC