Sun 04/10/20

A rainy Sunday,
I get another coffee,
And the newspaper.

The work week’s loaming,
And I know there’s much to do,
One day at a time.

The rain drips outside,
And trickles down the window,
And strangely soothing.

The blocks, block me in, and restrain my written words, to standard size blocks.

The pen’s mightier, than the sword or the blogs blocks, here’s to breaking out!

 

Sat 25/04/20 Cockney Slang Numbers

This number is ‘lost‘,
This number’s lost it ‘
bottle‘,
And this one’s ‘
holy‘.

This number will ‘
stand‘,
This number holds all the ‘
jacks‘,
And this will ‘
fiddle‘.

This is ‘
Exeter‘,
This number’s in your ‘
garden‘,
This one’s black as ‘
coal‘.

The last one is ‘
cock‘,
In Cockney slang for numbers,
In R J Clarke’s book.

Tues 25/02/20

“Well?” Said the doctor,
“What is the matter with you?”
I took a wrong turn!

Where is the toilet?
They said, “Turn left, to the end,
And there, just turn right”.

I passed the cafe,
And again then stopped for tea,
Then I had to pee.

That’s how it started,
I got out whilst I could though,
Back to normal strife.

Sat 22/02/20

What the barman saw,
Under the bar last evening,
Is something so gross!

Maybe, it is now,
And maybe it ain’t. We’ll see!
When we go under.

The darkness surrounds,
Closing in like a thick fog,
Chilling to the bone.

There’s a quietness,
Eerie and haunting down there,
Like a dripping tap.

And so we returned,
And pledged to not speak a word,
Of what we saw there.

To be continued…….