My Poetry (for what it's worth) will appear on this page.

 Please credit me when quoting privately.

Anything else email me

miknjan@globalnet.co.uk

 

To start with something daft:

THE DRY DRIP

He rode up to the castle wall;

He swam across the moat

(He wore no shining armour

And so he kept afloat).

He ran to his beloved,

His Gertrude (call her Gert).

She squealed in his armour free embrace.

She preferred a non-iron shirt!

 

 

It will get better.

It couldn't get much worse, I suppose.

 

How about something theatrical?

 

DRESS REHEARSAL

 

So soon now

The quick night draws to its beginning.

Months of work

In three short nights will be brought to success

And nothing.

Greasepaint permeates everything

Almost covering the smell of fireproofing

And still-wet paint And the dressing room is alive

With flashing bodies, swords and wit.

Clad in doublet and hose

We prance on through this other life

So much better than our own.

 

 

MAY DAY

 

'Twere May Day

And our Mary were Queen O' The May.

But she wouldn't be there for t'party

Cos Mary caught measles that day.

 

The town were all assembled,

The brass band were sounding swell

And to make it a proper occasion

We had one or two tourists as well.

 

The vicar came out from the vicarage

He were a magnificent sight

What with his open necked dog-collar

And a new pair o' cricketing whites.

 

The vicar spoke up, said, "Where's Mary

Cos I've got to give her this hat".

'Twere the May Queen's crown he were meaning

Made from an old cocoa mat.

 

But, of course, they couldn't find Mary

Cos she was tucked up safe in bed.

At least that's what mother and me thought

Till Mary piped up and she said,

 

"Here I am, vicar.

Come crown me with that funny hat".

And I thought, "Gimme an 'ammer

And I shall do sommat like that.

 

The vicar's face turned ashen

As he gazed down on our child

And suddenly there was a crashing

As the Whole town seemed to go wild.

 

"We don't want the measles," they cried,

"With the summer days ahead.

We'd rather suffer from sunburn

And Calamine Lotion, instead".

 

Now, the thing was; we hadn't called doctor

We'd come to fetch him from t'fete

And he took one look at our child

And said, "It must have been something she ate".

 

Now this were a startling comment to make,

Though we didn't think so at t'time,

But now all the town has got measles...

Excepting that Mary o' mine.

 

 As you can see I do like verse which is on the light side. This is something which surprises even me. Well maybe "even" is the wrong word to use as I do like people like Ogden Nash.

Nonetheless my favourite poet is John Donne especially the nondescript titled "Song".

You Don't know it? You will, now!

SONG by John Donne

 

Go and catch a falling star,

Get with child a Mandrake root.

Tell me where all past years are

Or who cleft the Devil's foot.

Teach me to hear mermaids singing

Or to cast off envy's stinging

And find

What wind

Serves to advance an honest mind.

 

It thou be'st born to strange sights,

Things impossible to see,

Ride ten thousand days and nights

Till age, snow white hairs on thee.

Thou, when thou return'st will tell me

All strange wonders that befell thee

And swear

Nowhere

Lives a woman true and fair.

 

If thou should'st find one let me know

Such a pilgrimage were sweet.

Yet do not; I would not go

Though at next door we might meet.

For though she were true when you met her

And last till you write your letter

Yet she

Will be

False, ere I come to two or three.