A young prince chose to jet abroad
And start his life anew.
Her Majesty had thought it odd
He’d given not a clue.
While chess has always been about
The move that’s unforeseen,
No pawn has ever taken out
A well-defended queen.
Ginger Bred
Tag: writing
Driving Us Spare
The Harry & Meghan Show’s returned!
The past, forgiven, lessons learned
Assured the monarch, over tea and crumpets.
The British public, unimpressed,
Needs history to be addressed
And until then, this royal pair can lump it.
Down To Earth
If gravity went up, not down
A lot more folk would smile, not frown.
A pleasant proposition, none too edgy.
And yet, its downfall is the chance
Our ever-rising underpants
Would lead to one collective, worldwide wedgie.
The Good Lord Giveth
“When God was handing out brains, you thought he said trains and yours still hasn’t arrived.”
“Oh yeah? Well, when God was handing out heads, you thought he said beds, so you asked for a big, soft one.”
“Oh yeah? Well, when God was handing out noses, you thought he said roses, so you asked for a big, red one.”
“Well, when God was handing out chins, you thought he said gins, so you asked for a double.”
“Yeah? Well, when God was handing out legs, you thought he said kegs and asked for two fat ones.”
“Okay then. When God was handing out ears, you thought he said spears and asked for big, pointy ones.”
“When God was handing out eyes, you thought he said ties and asked for two crossed ones.”
“Oh, yeah? When God was handing out foreheads, you thought he said warheads and asked for the biggest they make.”
“When God was handing out teeth, you thought he said wreaths and asked for a load of green ones.”
“When God was handing out faces, you thought he said laces and asked for one you could tie in knots.”
“Well, when God was handing out shoulders, you thought he said boulders and asked for two round ones.”
“When God was handing out wives, you thought he said knives and asked for one that wasn’t too sharp.”
“When God was handing out kids, you thought he said lids and now people keep grabbing them by the ears trying to open them.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Book Case
“Have you read any good books lately?”
“I don’t read.”
“What do you mean: you don’t read?“
“I mean just that.”
“Then how do you learn anything?”
“Audio books; they’re books you don’t have to read.”
“That speaks volumes.”
“You can adjust the volume.”
“Uh huh…”
One Giant Leak For Mankind
The toilet aboard Artemis
Now circling Earth and hard to miss
Quite soon began to overflow
And now, no one can boldly go.
Houston, wee have a problem…
A Question of Sport
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“What?”
“Now you’ve asked me two.”
“What?”
“And now three.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about what you’re talking about, which is questions, and that’s four of them now.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
Ode To Miss Mary Bennet
Miss Mary Bennet, life’s middle child:
Dour, unremarked and, by choosing, unstyled.
Watching your sisters play whist in their pairs
Consigned to their shadows, resigned to your prayers.
Oh, to be Jane! The most prized of them all
Who turned every head at the Netherfield Ball.
Or Lizzy, who routs senseless suitors through wit
Delighting your father more than he’d admit.
Would you be like Kitty who follows the crowd?
Or Lydia, brash and unsuitably loud?
Alas, those sweet psalms you impart by the dozen
Did fail in the end to secure you a cousin
And having entailed the estate to a son
The Bennets have lost and the Collins have won.
And so, dearest Mary, were God so to judge
Will your role be that of your poor mother’s drudge?
Or is your intended more than a mere dream
Who’s destined to save you as part of His scheme?
Now, blow out the candle and softly to bed
Let sleep chase such worriment out of your head.
And judge not too harshly, as you’re wont to do
For, one day our eyes may be turned toward you.
St Valentine’s Day Mascara
I gave my heart to you, my love
One February night
Invoking all the saints above
I prayed you’d hold it tight.
And after we had made romance
For, that’s what I still call it,
You gave me such a loving glance
Then made off with my wallet.
The next day you were seen at lunch
With someone we both know.
Now, looking back, I have a hunch
My best friend’s your new beau.
According to my Visa bill
You both then saw a play
A great night out is greater still
If one needs never pay.
Due to such costly overruns
From two hearts hewn from stone,
On my part, not to be outdone
I hacked into your phone.
And so, my love, for us it ends
As does your victory lap
For, you’ve just texted all your friends
To say you’ve got the clap.
Roll, Play
My love, you’re a Tahitian girl
That dances on the sand
Who charms the breeze with every twirl
And gesture of her hand.
My love, you’re absinthe through the veins
Each time my lips are kissed
A cruel elixir bringing pain
Which no man can resist.
My love, to me you are a song
Whose chorus fills the air
Inviting men to sing along
Allaying their despair.
My love, your powdered skin’s as soft
As petals on a rose
Its luring scent designed to waft
With each layer you expose.
Alas! Another’s at your door
I thank you for your art.
In truth, our love’s a game, no more
And you have played your part.
Mr Ormsby At Large 