If Wishing Made It So

Photo by Judit Peter on Pexels.com

I never feel that ought I write
is good enough for publication.
Instead, I dream each night
that I’m in print in all the nations.
A poet can dream, of course,
when the truth is mere blight.
Though it surely would be better
to sit my backside down and write.

An Interesting Fact About Goldfish

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He is green around the gills;
He is floating on his side.
You can see that he is ill;
You assume that he has died.
An ordinary mistake
Goldfish owners often make.

He can be resuscitated:
He is merely constipated.

A garden pea, minus shell
Rescues him from goldfish hell.
Soon, he’s swimming round the bowl,
Can’t recall his bunged-up hole.
Little fishy’s full of beans.
Moral: always eat your greens.

Rush Hour Crush

Photo by Matheus Viana on Pexels.com

The Metro Newspaper (free to commuters) has a section devoted to passengers sending messages to other passengers, in the hopes of finding true love. Or true lust, as the case may be. https://metro.co.uk/rush-hour-crush/

This poem was inspired by the following message:
To handsome guy with the golden retriever who got off at West Brompton. Everyone was stroking your dog and all I wanted to do was stroke you. Fancy a drink? The Girl In Black, London


The passengers stroked your dog.
All I wanted to do was stroke you
in places that shouldn’t be shown on the train.
What’s a horny girl to do?

Being a healthy hetero,
I’ll write it in the Met-r-o.

Today Is World Limerick Day

Photo by Luciann Photography on Pexels.comI’m guessing this is the actual town of Limerick, Ireland

They say on the twelfth of May
It will be World Limerick Day
If the whole world would write
Five fun lines, I’d bite
But read 7 billion? No way!

Dear Reader, I’m challenging you
I hope that you won’t misconstrue
Won’t you please have a go?
If you didn’t know
Limericks are such fun to do


They’re a doddle to write:

  • Five lines
  • Lines 1+2+5 rhyme
  • Lines 3+4 rhyme
  • Usually funny, but no pressure here (you read mine, didn’t you?)

Card Sharp

My Dad loved card games, any card games:
8-5-3; Rummy; Jack High; Whist.

He kept us kids up late on school nights,
until he won. Perhaps avoiding Mum.

Beating her at her own game;
or admitting defeat. Who can say?

Next day I had to declare, ‘I didn’t do my homework, Miss,
but I learned how to count the cards in Poker; will that do?’


It would have been my Dad’s 86th birthday today. There’s a little poetic licence here as he didn’t keep us up as late as the poem suggests…honest…