
A problem shared is a problem halved…
In your case, this is true.
For, when we meet I have but one
Yet somehow leave with two.
light verse and much, much worse

A problem shared is a problem halved…
In your case, this is true.
For, when we meet I have but one
Yet somehow leave with two.

God is an Englishman
He wears a bowler hat
He gave us brollies for the rain so folk can stop to chat.
His favourite meal is fish & chips and if he’s staying in
He likes to watch the cricket, eating biscuits out the tin.
He cheers on Blackburn Rovers and when in The Great Beyond
He drives an Aston Martin, telling angels: “Call me Bond.”
He sent us earthly kings and queens to reign on his behalf
Then sent The Benny Hill Show to make everybody laugh.
God is an Englishman
Sublime and yet absurd
A marvel we commemorate each April 23rd.

In ancient Athens, lived a man who did not suffer fools
Who scorned the rich and powerful, disparaging their rules.
Renouncing laws and social norms from which he felt exempt
Diogenes The Cynic viewed convention with contempt.
He called an earthen jar his home, forgoing earthly goods
Promoting a philosophy which few Greeks understood:
We need not work! Food should be free!
We’ve been robbed of our liberty!
A dog needs only food and sleep
So, worry not about your keep!
Revolting, in more ways than one, he never bathed and took great fun
In mocking local passersby unlucky to have caught his eye.
Once Philip, King of Macedon, discovered what was going on
He fetched him from the marketplace to meet this heckler, face to face.
Philosopher, comedian, Diogenes first drew him in
Then seized the moment to berate the trappings of the civil state.
The king considered all he’d heard and pledged Diogenes his word
That he would try to make life fair for all his subjects everywhere.
Then Philip’s son, the Late & Great, who relished seminal debate
Next headed for the rebel’s lair to bump heads in the open air.
Soon Alexander found the spot and asked Diogenes his thoughts
On justice, kings and slavery to test his rival’s bravery.
Diogenes, quite unafraid, lamented: We have been betrayed.
The reason for our very birth is to enjoy fruits of the earth.
Young Alex, in your palaces, you drink from golden chalices
While I do nicely in this jar… am I no better than you are?
And now you claim to be divine, directly drawn from Zeus’s line
Yet, as I spy your horse nearby I fear, like you, it cannot fly.
The Great One knew he’d met his match, aware that he would never catch
A cynic who cared not for kings, nor for the folly each reign brings.
Amused, young Alex asked his host which thing in life he wished for most:
Was it a wife? Slaves of his own? Or simply to be left alone?
Reclining in the summer breeze, his eyes now closed, Diogenes
Admitted there was only one: for Alex not to block the sun.

Prince Charming’s parents, late in life
Still hoped their son would find a wife
When Cinderella then became big news.
Alas! Their hopes were dashed again
When he and all his bachelor friends
Had merely wondered where she bought her shoes.

A woman scorned… all men are warned,
Is of the gravest matter.
As is the task, if she should ask:
Does this make me look fatter?

A rhyme for orange
The poet battles somewhat.
Hopes fade, or hinge,
When next faced with a kumquat.

To many an anemone
The fear is any Yemeni
Who ofttimes like an enemy
Sauteed and slightly lemony

The budding poet soon suspects
The pointlessness of: Solve for x

Don’t walk too near the woods, go ’round
Especially at night
And if you must, don’t make a sound
Keep low and out of sight
Don’t whistle, sing or kick at stones
Don’t stop to climb a tree
For, if you do she’ll boil your bones
And have you for her tea
Because The Witch of Oldham Woods
Takes little ones who stray
Extinguishing the childhoods
Of those who lose their way
Who’ll never hear a mother’s words
Before their empty grave
Whose names are rarely ever heard
Whose souls no man can save
Don’t walk too near the woods, turn ‘round
For, all I say is true
And pray you’re found on hallowed ground
When she comes after you

You see a marble
I see the moon
You hear a garble
I hear a tune
You hold me closer
Without a sound
I’m life’s composer
Writing it down