You love my English accent
But that leaves me confused.
You don’t tell a French speaking Frenchman
His accent’s awfully cute.
I’m from England; speaking English.
The clue is in the name.
I don’t think I have an accent
Whatever you may claim.
If someone has an accent
I’m rather afraid it’s you.
I’m just speaking proper English
It’s what we English do.
So tootle pip for now old bean
And off we jolly go.
I’m speaking my own language
It’s English don’t you know?
It’s time to go I’ll disappear
It’s clear that I’m not useful here.
I’m past my ‘sell by’ out of date
To slip away will be my fate.
When turning up is just a chore
You don’t belong there any more.
I’ve served my purpose, done my bit
There’s nothing left. I guess that’s it.
I’m out of here. I’m done I’m through.
There’s other stuff I want to do.
I don’t feel that I’m needed here.
It’s time to go I’ll disappear.
A response to the Daily Prompt
via Disappear
Modelled on Wendy Cope’s poem ‘Some More Light Verse’
You have to try. You try to write.
Your writing’s trite. You drink, get tight.
You struggle to improve your books.
You post a poem. It gets no looks.
You eat some food. You post some junk
You drink some more. You’re slightly drunk.
You read a bit, you walk, you dream.
But nothing works. You want to scream.
You don’t know what to do, you cry.
You’re running out of things to try.
You scratch your head. You try to write.
You try to eat and drink what’s right.
You fidget lots. You make a plan.
You long to write. You know you can.
But nothing works. You want to scream.
You walk some more. You read, you dream.
You eat, you drink. Still no one looks
You struggle to improve your books.
You can not see the point. You sigh.
You try to write. You have to try.
It’s all a little bit awkward
I don’t know what to say.
In truth we’re not accustomed
To doing things this way.
It’s all a bit unfortunate
Not how it’s supposed to be.
We’ll have real trouble explaining
How things got this way.
The situation’s awkward
It shouldn’t be this way.
Blushing and tongue tied
I don’t know what to say.
via Awkward
He loved his own reflection
Caught it whenever he could.
Looked at himself in the mirror
More often than any man should.
He struggled to love any other
Thought far too much of himself.
His first thought on other’s affliction
Would be how it affected HIS health.
It wasn’t a difficult courtship
He loved his reflection at once
He knew he was made for no other
Their eyes had not met by chance.
via Narcissism
A response to the Daily Prompt
We were like the Holy Family
So the chaplain said
The ward like Bethlehem’s stable
Two parents wrapt with their child
But the child was dead.
You reminded him somehow of Mary
The messiah spread across her
As our child lay in your arms now
Limp and dead.
What’s the line from Eliot
About seeing birth and seeing death
And thinking they were different?
In the silence life and death
Seemed only a breath apart.
The child in my mind’s eye manger
Wears a crown of thorns.
There’s been a complication
Things didn’t go as planned.
It seems for Poet Laureates
They’re slightly overmanned.
Seems that Carol Ann Duffy’s
Already doing the job
And one Poet Laureate
On the books
Is really quite enough.
So I’ve done my Wedding Poem
But I didn’t get the job
I guess just knowing
I’ve done my bit
Will have to be enough.
via Complication
Our view of the carriage from Windsor’s Long Walk.
Greetings from very busy Windsor.
It’s three cheers for Harry,
And three cheers for Meghan
Forget about the national state
And celebrate a wedding.
Everything’s red, blue and white
Church bells are a-ringing
Everyone is on the street
And all the choirs are singing.
Got no time for grumpy folk
We’re overdue a party
Happy tears run down our cheeks
Our cheers are loud and hearty.
Politicians all poe-faced
None of them invited
Not been much to shout about
But now we’re all excited.
Meghan is a clever girl
Seen her on the telly
Bound to shake things up a bit
And add a bit of welly.
William is the one day king
Lesser role for Harry
But he’s found a super bride
He’s no need to worry.
Carriage round the Windsor streets
When will they get started?
Band strikes up a marching tune
Couple have departed.
Dad is anxious, checks his watch
Glad it’s…
View original post 182 more words
My application’s too early – a little bit premature
It seems Carol Ann still wants the job
And there’s not enough cash for two.
Two hundred a year and canary wine
Must stretch the coffers enough
My application’s premature
They don’t need two of us.
They don’t need another Laureate
At least for now, not yet.
So I’ll sharpen up my craft a bit
For now she’s a better bet.
At least I did a poem though
They can’t take that away.
I’ve done my little bit to help
The couple’s special day.
A response to the Daily Prompt
via Premature
Andrew Green's Poems 