Coventry Poetry

Now I know why I enjoy visiting this Forum. Thanks Mr. Walker, when is your next edition coming out. I have been waiting for months!

FOOLISH APRIL April cool so innocent and jolly April's fooling a seasonable folly We go out so brave and stout Gamp and macintosh without Cast a clout loll about Thinking not of our rheums or gout Then to to damp that Springtime ardour She turns on the water spout But it's only April, fooling.

Here's one for Christmas........ Oh! What can I get her for Christmas? Oh! What can I get her for Christmas? Oh! What can I get her for Christmas? I’ve been everywhere in the quest! There’s nothing in Myers or DJs, and just rubbish in all of the rest! I found one I thought she would quite like, but she doesn’t like green at all, And the only other one I could find was simply far too small. I wondered about a real sexy one, but I don’t think she’d want one of those, The last one she had just made everyone laugh, and played merry hell with her toes! I actually ordered a monogrammed one, but I got a real shock when it came. I just can’t give her that – ‘cause it wouldn’t make sense – they’d printed some other girl’s name! I went to the Christmas Shop Help Desk, and the lady there was quite nice, But nothing she ever suggested was anything like a good price! I tried on the Internet websites, like Amazon, Google and such, But all I could find in my price range was a site that was written in Dutch! The postage to get it from Europe was seriously close to a crime, And even then they don’t guarantee that the item would get here on time! I’m now very close to despairing, as December draws close to the end, But what can you buy a sweet pussy cat, that shows she’s my very best friend?

Definitely a 10 JW.

I must have been feeling a bit sorry for myself when I wrote this. Perhaps it will ring true for my old 1960s mates at Godiva Harriers............ Not the gazelle! I’m not the gazelle that I used to be, and that’s for bloomin’ sure! I could match it with the sprinters, middle distance men and more. I could hurdle like a champion, my steeplechase was great, But I’ve noticed my performances have dropped right off of late. There never was a better bloke to call on for the team. I’d rise to the occasion, or so it always seemed! Unless it involved throwing things, like javelins and shot, And then the guy to call on I definitely was not! I’d even do the long-jump, when the long-jumper’s not there, And high-jump? Ah, my Fosbury flop was more than merely fair! I loved it when I scored a few more points then for the team, But now it’s just beginning to be but a distant dream. I guess when I turned sixty-eight it started to appear, That feeling that it just may be the end of my career? My legs won’t work the way they did, and breathing’s getting hard. No matter what the distance, they’ve added extra yards. The hurdles are much higher, and I’m sure they’ve added three, And it’s those extra three, I’d swear, that really bugger me! They ring the last-lap bell at least a lap before it’s due, And tell me off if I don’t let these younger chaps breeze through. They don’t put me in the high-jump now, to do my Fosbury flop, And triple-jumps confuse me - is it jump, then step, then hop? They’ve talked about insurance - am I covered for a fall? What’s it to them? It’s bullshit and it surely is my call! They no more use a stopwatch to time me in my races; A calendar’s used these days just for me to tie my laces! Back in my prime, I’d run all day and not even get puffed, But now, right from the starter’s gun - I’m well and truly stuffed!

JW. Just b----y brilliant again.

Keep running with the verses JW, you can't fail. Yet another winner thank you.

Perhaps a Poem for Easter?

The Stuff

I was minding my own business down in Hertford Street one night, Just reflecting on the people passing by. There were lovers, arm in arm, and drunkards looking for a fight, And weirdos in the throes of getting high. The big screen kept on showing how the Sky Blues scored a goal, And a tall guy walked 'round talking to his sleeve. There were girls in skimpy dresses, and two coppers on patrol. The diversity of life's hard to believe! A young man sat beside me, and he whispered "Got the stuff?", And I wasn't really certain what he meant. "I'm desperate for a fix", he said, "I haven't got enough!" And continued to regale me with laments! I told him that I didn't have the stuff he's looking for, And I offered Easter eggs instead of that! And he greedily accepted and he begged me for some more, Even though I said they make you very fat! He wandered on, and soon a nice young girl sat in his place. "You got some stuff?" - she asked the self-same question. I offered Easter eggs, but she just threw them in my face! "Damned Easter eggs just give me indigestion!" A great big bikie then sat down, with tattoos and a beard, And a little leather bag around his waist. It struck me that his attitude was really rather weird, And his company not really to my taste! But he turned to me and whispered "I've got all the stuff you need!" "Just tell me how much cash you've got to spend." I wasn't sure exactly how I ought to then proceed, But this wasn't where the story was to end! The tall guy with the talking sleeve then signalled to the cops, And all three of them came rushing to my side. "You're under arrest" the bikie said, "Our undercover Ops Have caught you - there is nowhere you can hide! The bikie said "We've watched you as you've plied your deadly trade, Selling Easter eggs to chocoholics here!' No matter how I protested, they never could be swayed, And the courts sent me to prison for a year! For just a while I had them beat, and organised supply, Though contraband in prison is a crime. My Easter eggs were scattered from a drone up in the sky, But the prison staff would nick them all the time! So now I'm contemplating how to get out of this jail. I'm sick of staring at these four blank walls. I guess if there's a lesson to be learnt from this sad tale - It's not to share your Easter eggs with anyone at all!

Now that, dear friends, is the work of a genius!

I think it`s dreadful that these Easter Eggs (aka Chocolate Eggs) previously manufactured in this country should now be manufactured abroad and smuggled into this country. It`s not only the poor pusher in this country that should be in jail, but also those who produce such unhealthy "stuff". Anyway, thanks for such necessary and observant reporting JW

I wish! Actually the work of 3am insomnia! I had to get out of bed and write it down before I forgot it all! But thanks anyway, Rob! It's all fiction, of course - especially the bit about the Sky Blues!

What more can be said JW, I am loving it.

Three Spires Junction Three spires glimpsed from the box The clang of steel on steel Heat rising from the shiny rail Welcomes the early summers' day Three spires glimpsed from the box Haze softens already faded outlines Ghostly station even quieter now Forces memories of a noisier past Three spires glimpsed from the box Indentured hopes of boy and man Life's apprenticeship just begun Rewards with happiness and pain Three spires glimpsed from the box Shadows are banished by the light Metal expands from the warmth Lengthening this longest day Three spires glimpsed from the box Cityscape crowds the ethereal beacons The door stands fully open Yet no cooling breeze is felt Three spires glimpsed from the box Bells ring a coded request Efficiently the response is sent Summoning disturbance of the air Three spires glimpsed from the box Sound decays behind the train The disappearing silhouette shimmers And in the distance thunder beckons