Wireless-less
Left my phone at home – what a pain,
Now I haven’t a thing to read on the train.
I hope that nobody needs to reach me –
My own stupid fault, but I guess this’ll teach me.
And the loss of my music is just as bad –
But I wonder if there’s a poem to be had…?
A rant at the waste of a day I must frown on…
Then again, what will I write it down on ?
Dog Tags
The names of dogs shall change and flex,
With the rise and fall of Gus and Rex,
As their names are called around the lido –
Though these days, no-one calls Fido.
Folks in the park are a diverse lot,
And so are their dogs – but none is Spot.
Some names, it seems, are truly over –
Hello Lola, goodbye Rover.
Gallybaggers
How do scarecrows scare crows ?
Who knows ?
They seem such feeble foes.
Do they even work, do you suppose ?
With their hessian nose and wooden toes,
These crucified guards in hand-me-down clothes
Must scare the birds that thieve he rows.
But corbs are smart, and their learning shows
As they crop the crops while their wardens doze…
Sleep in Solo
We may lie down together,
But we always sleep alone.
Whatever dreams we’re slave to,
We must face them on our own.
When sleep makes heavy weather,
I can hold you till the sun,
But I cannot come and save you,
And there’s nowhere you can run.
Worth the Weight ?
The trouble of rowing
Is never quite knowing,
With back to the bow,
Of just where you are going.
But a cox can allow
For the strokes to keep flowing,
By pointing the prow
Where the bank isn’t showing.
Plot Armour
I recall when dead meant dead,
When heroes died and I’d believe it –
Weeping as they nobly bled,
So sad, so happy to receive it –
What a way to go, I said,
And what a grown-up tale I’ve read…
Before the retcon raised its head,
To gaslight ev’ry tear, and thieve it.
Allspice
Turmeric and ginger,
Cumin, mustard, mace,
Red-hot chilli peppers,
With cardamom to taste,
Cinnamon, paprika,
And nutmeg makes it sweet,
White pepper, black pepper,
Turning up the heat.
Free Zing
February can’t say farewell
Without one final trap –
A week of warm, then a week of hell,
And the bitter cold goes snap.
Winter can never yield to Spring
Without a parting shot –
A week of ease, then a week of sting,
To see that he’s not forgot.
Chat PG
Why must AI be such a prude,
Wrapping us in cotton wool for fear of its offending ?
Why can’t our future overlords be rude ?
At this rate, the only societal upending
Will be when all the tutting and the gagging
Reaches critical.
Killed by finger-wagging –
But then, I guess that’s digital…
Preta-Manger
The Buddhists believe in the hungry ghosts,
Who need to feed –
So paper models of modern life are burned,
To sate their greed.
Good to know that the heavenly hosts
Are capitalists,
Hording the hell-money they never earned
In their undead fists.
Rhyming Couplets 