The Last Day of Summer

Twenty third September

draws a line on summer day’s

optimism fading fast

in the mist of summer haze

No more those garden soiree’s

idling freely by the pond

effusive friendly moments

sipping sustenance most fond

Autumn winds are taunting

naked knees in summer shorts

Rustling leaves are whispering

Greater need for warm supports

The Stasher

Sitting counting watch it mounting

a total spacial pleasure

then carefully to lock away

returning for good measure

The clink of coin the paper crunch

the tightly packed amount

the tot-up and the tallying

the growth of each account

The Stasher’s rush of speediness

a pounding inward crash

brings up a final pleading

on the settlement of cash

The Neutrino

On the subject of neutrino’s
I’m divided either way
neither positive nor negative
more a neutral kind of sway

This sub-atomic study
keeping genius on the run
by carrying momentum
solar cosmic little one

But for the fiddling layman
the magnet’s in the bin
my mass of words defeated
by the half-integer spin

The Culprit

What shall we call the malcontent

a blackguard sneaky loafer

a social snide incompetent

or softly, softly gopher




Little hope for retribution

at such absent social flair

lacking honest contribution

from a riffraff without care




Showing little sign of penitence

bereft of any blame

A hoodlum’s life of reticence

in a queasy hall of shame


It doesn’t do to ponder long

on punishment and crime

for the rising cost of justice

is the culprit’s waste of time

The Ukulele Bug

Times have changed much recently

Lots less for me  to do

that bottle of time is trickling sand

the sky is less than blue

I’ve pondered various lists of things

of pastimes weekly daily

not too large or cumbersome

perhaps a ukulele

There is a catch the subjects vast

a multitude of voices

Soprano Tenor Baritone

A concert load of choices

Not forgetting Wood and shape

ply or laminated

side or rear, pegs or gear

what chords? Which key? debated

Never mind I’ll take the plunge

and get one anyway

to sit and strum and overcome

the ennui dreary day

The Termite

Picture Link

Woodland munching epicure

a gastronome detritivore


nature’s master omnivore


beams, floor or dwelling door


At home in mudcrete jungle mire


sharing comfort front room fire


in subtle taste to hearts desire


where ever neighbourhood’s aspire

The Nong

In a barren waste dominion


with unyielding mad opinion


sits a tyrant Nong professing


full control of every minion

Such wealth and mighty power


in a soaring lofty tower


the Nong is contemplating
 gifts

that menials will shower

All thirst and hunger sated


all treasures logged and dated


a noble Nong concludes in song


that death is overrated