The Lighter, the Better
This is a grab bag of fun poems. Playing with words, nonsense, wry humour; and some deep blues lyrics to inspire a composer's heart (or not).
You'll find some tongue-in-cheek verse on my other webpages too: eg The Dying Stockman.
I always write humorous verse on my way up from a spell of depression. Who knows why. It's possibly a hint not to take ourselves too seriously. Or not to take me too seriously.
To Spring
The frosts have abated, December is nigh:
Exultant, the verges are green and knee-high.
A warmbreathing wind turns the grasses to seas
Whose currents and waves ebb and flow with the breeze,
And on the embankments, the ryegrasses stream
And so does my nose, as the pollens all teem,
Both eyes are aflame, they're all itching and blear:
It's hip, hip, hooray! for the springtime is here.
So puff on your puffer, put pegs on your nose,
Pretend your complexion's romantically rose.
Those poets besotted with spring peddle rot:
Who twitters of love while their head's full of snot?
The lambs, they can gambol and frolic their best,
And cute baby birdies peep out of their nest.
Ignore the sweet sunshine, let's cower inside,
And snuffle and sniff till spring fever has died.
About these words
Puzzled about frosts abating when it's nearly December? That's how it is where we live.
Mild frosts well into October and a bigger frost - say -5 degrees - in late November are common here.
That late November strike is a killer for tomatoes, pumpkins and other tender green things that we dared to plant.