Tag Archives: rhymes

Of Writer’s Block

This post has been brought to you by writer’s block, and a lovely evening at an acoustic music session at The Old Anchor.  I quite often end up writing here…when I can that is! It’s not for a want of ideas I can assure you. Please let me know what you think and as always, enjoy!


Of Writer’s Block
I want to write of falconry,
And literary critique.
Of mystery cats with stumpy tails,
For ideas I need not seek.
I want to write of new friendships,
And limping down a mountain.
Of adventuring in foreign climes,
I’m a veritable idea fountain.
I wanted to write for the past year,
And would sit with pen in hand.
Of ideas I wasn’t lacking,
But they wouldn’t come out as planned.
I want to keep on writing,
And end this long hiatus.
Of writer’s block no one’s a fan,
It always conspires to frustrate us.

That last verse is being a pain still, but it’s so nice to get something down rather than have a hundred ideas and a hundred blank pages because they won’t transfer.



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Sunrise Flight

I recently had the opportunity to go to California for a couple of weeks, and for various reasons, the best flight for me going over there left from Birmingham, UK at 6.25am.  Which meant I had to be at the airport for 3.25am, the airport being about 80 miles away from me, and the trains only ran until about 11pm before resuming at 5am.  Thankfully a couple of very kind-hearted, thoughtful and generous friends decided my airport sleeping idea was a silly one and arranged a hotel room for me.  Unfortunately, I was paranoid that I wouldn’t wake up in time for my flight.  You can see where this is going.

So it was a very tired (I’d been up since 5am Tuesday, the flight was on the Wednesday) and nervously excited (I LOVE planes, flying, and adventures) poet who got on the dinky little Embraer 195 that morning.  Being a small aircraft, and only an hour-long hop to Paris, there was no in-flight entertainment.  I’d thought ahead and had my notebook in my hand luggage so I could doodle ideas and maybe come up with some rhymes.

So whilst travelling at 500 mph, about 5,000ft above the ground, having not yet had any tea (!), this happened.  Enjoy, and let me know what you think.

Sunrise Flight
We step aboard in the cold and dark,
Strapped in our seats in this metal tube,
For some this is far from a walk in the park.
There’s silence then the engines thrum,
Pushing us back in to our seats,
The take-off flip-flops in my tum.
The city sprawls out far below,
Roads ribboning through the land,
Street lights bathe it in an orange glow.
Then the clouds close and intervene,
Enveloped in a world of grey,
A curtain for unveiling the next scene.
We emerge in a new land,
Like a snowfield in the fells,
So serenely beautiful and grand.
The clouds form hills and valleys deep,
And as the sun rises like burning amber,
Sure fiery beauty almost makes me weep.

I forgot to snap Birmingham, so here’s my snap of LA instead. Same adventure at least

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Roadside Diner

This one is the result of various sightings over the years.  When I told one of my friends the title, they were somewhat worried.  After they heard it, they were amused and admitted that it wasn’t what they had expected.  In a good way.  Hope you enjoy it to, please let me know, either in the comments below or through one of the half-dozen other ways of reaching me.


Roadside Diner
Down at the Roadside Diner,
We’ve all you can eat grass and leaves.
For rabbit, mouse, hare and deer,
But please keep near the hedge or the trees.
Down at the Roadside Diner,
Birds can come fill their crops with grit.
We’ve ants galore for green woodpeckers,
But please do try not to get hit.
Else down at the Roadside Diner,
You’ll get a free pass to our Scavengers’ Buffet.
A regularly replenished and varied spread,
Exclusively for red kite, crow, rook, magpie, jay…
Here at the Roadside Diner,
We’re proud of our all-natural food.
But must apologise for the noisy neighbours,
Their disturbing your meal is so terribly rude.



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As Summer Fades

Things have taken a decidedly cool and soggy turn over the past week, and there were rumours of hail up the road from me, plus snow in Glencoe!  Autumn doesn’t start until the 21st, so if the weather would kindly remember that…  This is a pretty seasonal post, and I wanted to get it up before the season changed and I had to wait a year.  Part of my inspiration came from some comments I saw and heard about male opinions on female fashion outside of the summer months.  Let me know what you think below, and enjoy!


As Summer Fades
As summer begins to fade away,
And autumn time slowly draws near,
The fallen leaves start to appear.
As days cool, the hemlines begin to fall,
And necklines slowly start to rise,
Accompanied by disappointed male sighs.
As blue skies linger with a nip,
And the swifts and swallows congregate to go,
Thoughts turn to the likelihood of snow.
As the log fires once more are lit,
And the last barbeques consumed,
Jumpers from storage are swiftly exhumed.
As the hedgerows fill with fruits,
And greens turn to red and gold,
The summer fades and autumn takes hold.




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My Cat is a Proper Little Weirdo

I’m typing this up at the little weirdo in question is sat on my lap purring away.  Thankfully my laptop does a good impression of a knee top.  The other night I decided that it was probably time to do another cat related rhyme.  Afterall, I post these online, and the internet loves cats.  Right?  Everything I’ve rhymed here is true, there have been witnesses to some of it.  In case any one is interested, Clio is an 8yo ish rescued Ragdoll who has lived with me for nearly two years.

So please let me know what you think below and hope you enjoy!


My Cat is a Proper Little Weirdo
She doesn’t lap her water,
Like all the other cats you’d see.
Instead she scoops it with a paw,
And sips so daintily.
She doesn’t like getting splashed with even a drop,
But will wander out in to the rain.
And if she seems to have disappeared,
You can bet she’s in the shower tray yet again.
She let a loopy Spaniel hug her,
And shrugged at a madly barking Yorkie.
Chased an Alsatian-cross around the garden,
But is somewhat shy around the Husky.
As I’m sure you’ll now agree,
She’s a proper little weirdo.
And a snuggly, rumbly, cuddly fur ball,
Who will sometimes answer to Clio.
Who you calling a weirdo?

Who you calling a weirdo?

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