Half-Century Celebration

500 downloads of my book.
But how many folk
actually took a look…?


Yesterday, someone was the 500th person to download a copy of Wholly Man (ignore the lonesome ‘2’ – they were my two accidental downloads when I was testing it worked). It was quite exciting for me! When I uploaded it in January, I hoped for about 200 downloads by the end of the year, so I’m thrilled.

But I can’t help wondering: does anyone actually read it? I suspect it’s one of those documents that people download and mean to read, but never get around to it.

Sshh! I won’t tell if you won’t….

If you’re new here and didn’t know about it, here’s a link: https://poetryfluff.wordpress.com/free-download/



Haha! I might be good at tempting strangers into downloading my work, but I’m rubbish at numbers. A half-century is, of course, 50, and not 500 😀

So this poem should be called ‘Half-Millennium Celebration’.

Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, though; does it?


A Warning

This is a repost from last year but, with the holiday season almost upon us, I felt it was worth reiterating (to myself).

Photo by Nicole Michalou on Pexels.com

There is no sincerer love than the love of food
~ George Bernard Shaw

Loving food
is fine
if tempered
with restraint.

But if
it ain’t,
it ain’t.


An Ode To WordPress, The Object Of My Affliction

This poem was written back in 2014, when I blogged as The Laughing Housewife. In those days, WordPress strongly encouraged its bloggers to blog and – once the novelty of blogging had worn off and I all I felt was guilt if I didn’t post something – I strenuously resisted. And by ‘strenuously resisted’ I mean, ‘wrote a bad poem which I’m pretty sure no WordPress Employee ever read’.

Photo by Markus Winkler on Pexels.com

When I do not write
You prompt me to
Bloggers not blogging
Reflects badly on you

When I do write
You spy on me
I must object

But let’s be fair
This ode is crap
Are you really sure
You want me back?


a palindrome date
well that’s nothing new
we have such things
twelve times a year
don’t know why I thought it
a good idea
to write a poem
to mark this event
my brow is furrowed
my pen is bent
this one was tough
my brain is dust
and so I must
expectations adjust
I refuse to write for you
a palindrome rhyme
that scourge of life
that waste of time
that cause of strife
on twenty-second December twenty-twenty-two