shrouded in miscellany

~

shrouded in miscellany ( all these poems should called this really, sorry … )



there speaks the voice of raisin

but not the voice of reason

those novelists have lost the plot

as woods scheme acts of treason


your face is in the basin

some stephens are uneven

yon martians in the garden &

in the attic - a demon


yes brass bands they are brazen

as spring's a bouncy season

king arthur sleeps neath avalon

& mum has gone to sweden


trust not ravens or masons

some fiery pyres are beacons

fog's often fog yet dogs are dogs

your fruit is bruised not beaten

...

































in other news

~

in other news ( some other news in that there of a verse )




in other news

the cat is fine

the dog is dog

i drank the wine

with my hands bare

i caught a fly

whilst blindfolded

the cellar's dry



the t.v's died

the dog is well

not trapped down one

there is no hell

a hole was dug

one sought the dead

shambhala was

down there instead



please send more wine

the pantry's full

over my eyes

i pull the wool

that's yes better

my ears have grown

the birds are here

their nest has flown



the jumble's back

fine is the cat

last candlemas

cat caught a rat

that looked a lot

a lot like you

please come back soon

in other news

...