pexels-photo-848740.jpegAstonished, astounded

Surprised and quite shocked

My faith in humanity

Shaken and rocked!

You oughtn’t have done it

You really should not.

It’s really quite dreadful

And won’t be forgot!

Astonished, confounded

Confused and bemused

Who’d have expected

That you’d hold such views?!

It’s really surprising

I’m taking it hard

Just so astonished

You’ve caught me off guard.

via Astonish

A response to the Daily Prompt


Dear Harry and Meghan


Dear Harry and Meghan

I hear she’s let you down.

The proper Poet Laureate

Hasn’t done a poem.

I hope you know I offered

I’d love to write for you

It won’t be nothing fancy

But I’ll see what I can do.

I’ll try to get it rhyming

Proper poetry

There will be some advantage

Of having one from me.

Wouldn’t it be lovely

If others wrote one too.

We’ll shower you both

With poetry. It will be beautiful.

Send links to your Royal Wedding poems. I’ll reblog them on Andrew Green’s Poems.



Not another tantrum

A viscous show of pique

Hate it when you show us

Your mean and viscous streak.

Spare us all your temper

Things flung across the room

Whatever has provoked it

It’s you ends in the wrong.

Spare us all your tantrum

Your viscous hissy fit

Control your wicked temper

Just calm down a bit.

via Tantrum

Dear Queen Elizabeth


Andrew Green's Poems

I work part time these days and don’t earn a lot from poetry so a little extra income would be welcome. I live very near Windsor Castle, Her Majesty’s weekend home so would be up for the Poet Laureate job if they would have me. I wrote to the Queen a while back but haven’t had a reply yet. Hope there’ll be one soon. This was my letter.

Dear Queen Elizabeth,
Just a note to say
When next you need a Laureate,
Please consider me.

I write a lot of poetry
So how hard can it be?
In terms of productivity
You could do worse than me.

I’d mark the big occasions
And mark each special day.
Be it births, or deaths,
Or marriages; the special jubilees.
Providing something rhymes with it
You’ll be OK with me.

The better poets turn it down
Get up themselves and sniffy.
I’ll just…

View original post 98 more words

Your chance to be the royal bard



Well I offered to be Poet Laureate often enough but they never took me up! Now the inevitable has happened Carol Ann Duffy hasn’t come up with a poem. Seems they’re throwing it open to us amateurs so here’s my big chance, maybe yours?

From today’s Sunday Times.

Your chance to be the royal bard

The silence of Britain’s poet laureate should not discourage readers of The Sunday Times from offering their own tribute to Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

We invite you to submit your verse to be considered for publication on the day after the wedding which is being held on May 19.

The first poet laureate, John Dryden, was recompensed for his role with a yearly pension of £200 and “a butt of Canary wine”. All we can promise our winning entrant is the glory of appearing in The Sunday Times, subject to the editor’s decision.

Poems may rhyme or not; they may be long or short. Our only request is that they reach us by Tuesday, May 15.

Please send them to or by post to Royal Poems Competition, The Sunday Times, 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF.

The Wedding

You’ll have heard about the wedding

For us there’s no getting away

For weeks the bunting’s been flying

The flags are flapping away.

There’s commonwealth, there’s horses

The usual Windsor displays.

But the real big one to pull them all in

Will be the wedding day.

Some hiring out their houses

Some have people to stay

It’ll be a historic occasion

Whatever else you say.

We know about road closures

And where to see the bride

Where they’ll put the big screens

The route to stand beside.

The whole things on our door step.

We’ll kind of get sucked in.

I’m supposed to write a poem for it

So guess I better begin.


A rivulet of sweat

A rivulet of sweat

Ran down the author’s brow

Had to write a poem

But wasn’t sure just how.


The sweat trickled down his forehead

The sweat trickled off his nose

Where would he find a poem?

Heaven only knows!


The sweat gathered in a puddle

It gathered on the floor

He found his inspiration was

Not stuck any more.


By the sweat of his brow

He found it, found a new idea

When inspiration’s needed

You’ll often find it near.


Via Rivulet



God bless the child, they’ve called him Louis.

It’s tough to rhyme; we can’t do ‘gooey’.

We have to try, he’s fifth in line;

The Poet Laureate’s pushed for time.


So here’s a short and simple verse

To celebrate the new Royal birth.

Three cheers, hip, hip; hip, hip hurray

A baby born St. George’s Day.


He shares his birthday with the bard

We’ll write a poem though it’s hard.

Hurray, hurray another Prince

We don’t mind his name sounds French.

Notable Exception

He’s a notable exception

The one who proves the rule

Brighter than the rest of us

He didn’t suffer fools.


Extraordinary, gifted,

He really made his mark.

He’d not so much communicate

As issue orders, bark.


A notable exception

His brain set him apart

But he alienated all of us

Which wasn’t quite so smart.


Notable, exceptional

But really in the end

The thing that really marked him out;

His total lack of friends.



via Notable