Thursday, 30 June 2016

Goodby Piccadilly Farewell Leicester Square


Cats among the pigeons
In Trafalgar battle scenes 
As our nation-states are shaded 
Highlighting Yellows Pinks or Greens 

It feels as though a state of war 
Occurred without a bullet fired 
As yesterday has waved goodbye 
To all that stuff we once admired 

Resourcefulness will soon set in 
As neediness takes hold 
Sharing shards from ration cards 
Because they broke the British mould

Boris isn’t good enough
No reprieve on leave or stay
Nor that man Gove do we behove
Bring on Theresa come what may

Wednesday, 29 June 2016

A Solution In Rhyme


Our British style of politics
Has clearly had its day
Middle roads are reservations
Right and Left will never sway

We need a federal mini-group
Of individual sovereign nations
A vested interest commune
With represented delegations

Far from great or near united
We can blend each other’s view
For the sake of joint security
Fairly divvy up the stew

If all this sounds familiar
As I’m sure it will to many
That a group of folks all on one side
Can earn a pretty penny

Confusion reigns in little Britain
Schizophrenic crowns of thorn
Gave up the fight preferring flight
Letting brains give way to brawn

Ireland Scotland London Wales
Favour all things European
So why not have a referendum
A great idea! Quite Herculean

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

Toast is Most

Wikipedia: "The crusts of most bread such as this brioche are golden brown due to the Maillard Reaction

Far more than a ‘tasty-bread’
A slice of toast transforms
In other ways to suit your taste
Your loaf of bread performs

So many tempting recipes
To accelerate your traction
A sandwich on a super plate
Teasing out Maillard reaction

Non-enzymatic browning
Much deliciousness on toast
Turning anything to everything
A sort of teapot platter roast



Monday, 27 June 2016

Well! Hello There!


I met myself the other day
To begin with quite surprised
It can’t be me it’s someone else
I misguidedly surmised

If confronted by ones otherness
More than just by catching sight
A face-to-face contrary place
Maybe transcendent in the light

No point in asking questions
A senseless verdict may acquit
Any answers would be I suspect
A test of truth to not submit

Is it my consciousness transmitting
A lucid signal super wave
As though myself was telling me
I have many things to save 

It was a first time meeting
Though anecdotal I suggest
Lacking facts to back me up
My testimony me at best

This rhyme was written after listening to: The Man Who Left His Body
Listen in pop-out player
Dr Broks Casebook: Neuropsychologist Paul Broks continues his detective hunt for the self.

Valediction


Sitting by a silver cloud
A feather bed well lined
A singing swan finale song
Warbled happiness inclined

Fulfilled a life in regal flight
Ecstatically serene
Unrivalled in exorbitance
This visiting transmarine 






Sunday, 26 June 2016

Aftermath

When England went Ultra Right-Wing and flew round in circles

Scottish guys are on their way
The Northern Irish too for sure
Wales proclaims UK bygone
Half of England slammed the door

London may declare itself
An independent city-state 
As Lancashire and Yorkshire
Will finally relate

We’re all in bits and pieces
Shattered fragments in a pile
How wonderful to be at last
In self-sufficient village style


Thursday, 23 June 2016

Sticky Situation





The man down the lane
Who leaned on a cane
Tapping along as he walked
Yet it kept him upright
With folks while he talked
Helped him upstairs every night

Each morning began
As often they can
With resolve to master his gait
Though whenever he stood
Quite steady and straight
He forgot how he lived by the wood


Tuesday, 21 June 2016

Plumb Bob Sanitation Blues


In a world of weary O rings
Bouncing ballcocks in the vat
Stopcocks seized up motionless
Tragic heating thermostat
Buckets filled from sopping leaks
Stubborn washbowls will not drain
Sewage streams are backing up
We need new carpets once again
Send for Bob the Plumber chap
A toolbox wizard with a wrench
His magic tricks will mishap fix
And bleed away the putrid stench
He’ll tighten up those sweaty glands
Heal the splish-splash drippy blues
Set our sanitary sweet again
Flowing water free good news

© Poem Only C K Letts

Written for Bob Armstrong a very special local plumber