Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Nobel prize for nostalgia

April 2, 2017 3 comments


Back in the mists of student days and nights, Bob Dylan used to sing:

”…..Take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy bench
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory of fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there ain’t no place I’m going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you……..”

Categories: History, Poetry

Donald, where’s your troosers?

March 2, 2017 6 comments


Let the wind blow high
Let the wind blow low
Through the streets
In my kilt, I’ll go
All the lassies say hello
Donald, where’s your troosers


March 1, 2017 8 comments


Celebrated far and wide in Olde Englande, the annual festival still thrives. Can you guess the origin of this song composed in 1891 in a town I know well?

Read more…

Categories: Competition, History, Poetry, Sport

Thanks for the memory

February 21, 2017 1 comment

Did that get the heart beating? No? Never mind, she’s retiring now.

‘Ow you say…on Valentine’s Day

February 12, 2017 4 comments


Je t’aime je t’aime, oui je t’aime
Moi non plus
Oh mon amour
Comme la vague irrésolue
Je vais, je vais et je viens
Entre tes reins
Je vais et je viens entre tes reins
Et je me retiens

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Categories: Poetry

Seemed like a nice boy

January 12, 2016 20 comments


1964. Interviewed about long hair…….


Categories: Creativity, History, Poetry

Are you an unsung poet?

November 21, 2015 6 comments

Clive James is a wordsmith of the first order. For example:

And he strikes a familiar chord for me, fascinated as I am by the spoken and written word, its etymology, philology and sheer existence in this otherwise technological world.

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Christmas for Monty and Robin

December 13, 2014 5 comments

Christmas for Monty and Robin

(With apologies to Amarinta)


And while the critters were all hob-nobbin’;

The field mice and the red-breast robin,

A squeal went up, ‘what, pray, was that?

‘I think it is the farmyard cat.’

‘Oh my sweet holy Jesus

I think she means to come and seize us.’ Read more…

Categories: Competition, General, Humour, Poetry

September poetry result

October 1, 2014 9 comments

A big thanks to the five contributors to the Animals competition. All the entries were first class.

Peter Alliss wouldn’t have liked the Latin speaking parrot in the poem by Janus but that’s golfers for you. I thought the piece was eximius.

Gazoopi put down in rhyme what he told us before about the stewing of his pet rabbit. Fifty years on it’s time the rabbit police thumped at his door.

Pseu’s dangerous moment in the life of a snail was captivating. Well-paced, the time was not crawling.

Bilby’s sausage dog was a sad tale but brilliantly written. My German’s not what it used to be so I had to use my German phrasebook (Stuff your Google) to translate. Great patter in the thread as well.

Congratulations on becoming a grandmother, Araminta. A mouse poem with a happy ending. Charming.

It was a shoot-out between Janus and Bilby. A very difficult decision but by the width of a gnat’s eyelash the winner is… Read more…

Animals (September poetry competition)

September 3, 2014 25 comments

One of the problems of winning the poetry competition is racking the brain cells to come up with an interesting theme for the next one. I’m surprised no one has done a George C Scott and declined the award. But by Stanley, I suppose we all like wearing a little Laurel round our necks.

Down to business. I’m not sure if this is a duplicate (BEEP) from a past tournament but the subject is Animals. You can ode about ones you love, dislike, fear, respect, whatever. The choice is yours. I might even make a contribution myself. The only other rule is that you must include a foreign phrase in your poem. Something like dolce vita or achtung. This is just a little extra to make it harder and more interesting.

Closing date last minute of September (I forget how many days in it). Go for it- Quack, Woof, Baa, ROAR, oo-oo-at-at-at-at, Wrille.