Predictive text 2

close up view of an old typewriter

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on

Predictive text 2 (Left-side Word)

Following on from my previous blog on the subject – 2 days ago – I re-print below the results of continuously pressing the LEFT-SIDE Predicted Text suggestions from my SwiftKey keyboard  (the line-breaks are my own!) . . .

… is the kiss of the sea reaches the moon
in the sun won’t be the one to end
my life has come to the brink
and I have no idea how much of it will help me
In telling verse Ideas diverse
my thoughts Broaching
and the fact I have had to blink
to be with you for commenting
and I hope you like the rest of your email
with your comments and suggestions on how we can improve
the 3-level 4 of 3rd party
needs to get the best out of fashion shop
and the best way for us
in order for us
from discarded litter of our boys in the morning
and the Heather clad on Sunday morning
as they will not let me know when
3rd is best to be there for 2pm
or just the same for the rest…   et al


A somewhat different result was produced when I tried sequential predicting of text from the right-hand side of my Swiftkey keyboard.  ( the symbols, on my keyboard, but unfortunately not reproduced here in WordPress, were in fact all brightly coloured emoticons) . . .  SEE BELOW


Predictive text 3 (Right-side Word)

The war against us in a slice  the government in a net and made a pass through a few days later in a couple  of my youth to help the people with a weird and boring  and to gather all of their performances and the infinite variety and a better place for a meal  in their wistful with their parents a bit young � a bit more than they had been see in our hotel  we had one 1⃣ one 1⃣ the one 1⃣ had to stay at the very top � but they have no choice and it seems to me a while away and a lifetime to get a refund back � it was meant for a while in France �� and a lifetime ago made the first hurdle on my soul mate lol …

. . .   Why Not . . . Give Predictive Text a try on your mobile/tablet/computer? You might produce a fictional masterpiece!

motivational quote

Photo by Bich Tran on

‘The Hawks and Sparrows of Mind Distortion’

Predictive Text


I wonder how many of my readers use Predictive Text when composing directly onto their computer screen.  Some of you may already have used it, if only to play a ‘Predictive Text’ game to see what amusement can be produced by giving the computer a free run at its own Artificial Intelligence.

When working on my tablet or mobile  phone I use the  Swiftkey Keyboard.  I do from time to time find the predicted words of use, but normally I just ignore the computer’s suggestions and plough on with my own ideas.

I only recently realised that whole phrases were often being suggested and I recently found it an amusing, if potentially mind-shrivelling, exercise to let the computer take control and suggest whole passages to me  – without any of my own input.

At each typing entry SwiftKey presents me with  three options. Based presumably on its ‘artificial intelligence’ take on the countless words I had previously written, and I reproduce below the ‘essay’ it composed on my use solely of the central option, that being, I believe, the computer’s main suggestion for continuation.

I have merged together, in the sequence presented to me, the many phrases suggested for my consideration.  The passage includes no punctuation.


Predictive Text 1 (Centre Word) . . .

I have attached my resume for your reference and hope to hear from you soon as I am currently working on the same for you and I will be there for 2pm or just after the interview on the 29th November as I am currently working on the first day of my graduation course at the University of Southampton and I have been working on the project management role at the University of Edinburgh for the last three weeks and I have been working with the hawks and sparrows of mind distortion to work with the team to work with the team to help with the hawks and sparrows of mind distortion to work with the team to work with the team to help with the hawks and sparrows of mind distortion.

( ‘The hawks and sparrows of Mind Distortion’ indeed! . . . or just a bad day at the office perhaps!? )




It sort of makes sense
But then again
There is no structure
No refrain

No easy flow
From line to line
No end in view
Merely moonshine

And yet it makes
A kind of sense
However daft
However dense

So when I write
My poetry
Why not indulge
In hyperbole

And let predictive text
Take over
Replace my muse
With robot composure.




I DiD, I DiD, I DiD – An Affirmation


Manhole cover – Surrey, England:  Photo WHB – 2020   ©

I DiD, I DiD, I DiD – An Affirmation

Did I do it?
I did not
No, I didn’t do it, Dear,
Did I?

Well, OK, what if I did?
What if I did it?
If I’d really done it
I’d say I did
Wouldn’t I Dear?
I’d say
I DiD, I DiD,
Yes, I DiD, I Did.

I think you think
I did do it, Dear.
Don’t you, Dear?
Don’t say you don’t
‘Cos you know that I did.
I always do, don’t I Dearest?

But Did I do it?
Well, if I did it
Then I did it, didn’t I?
So… Consider it done
Well and truly done
Done to death
Done and Dusted, Dear,
Done in, Done down,
Easier Said than Done.
I’ve been Done
She’s been Done
You’ve been Done.

Didn’t I do well to do it, Dear?
But really,
No, I did not!
‘I did not have sexual relations with that woman!’

Oh, well, if you insist,
yes, Maybe, I did do it.
Yes, Perhaps I did, Dear.
At least I think I did it.
I told myself
Not to do it,
But I DiD, I Did, I DiD …

Don’t say you don’t believe me, Dearest.




Declaration of a Poet Manqué

Poet Manque-WHBa


SAY AFTER  ME  . . .

Declaration of a  Poet Manqué

I  . . . 


Aka Roland of the White Rose –

And living a blissful prelapsarian life of the Imagination,

Being of covinous and unsound mind,

And possessing unlimited gall and braggadocio,

Do solemnly declare that, hereafter.

I shall endeavour

To remain in perpetuity,

And in ignorance of the consequences,

A committed dodipoll;

A resolute seeker after fake knowledge and untruth,

A dedicated harbinger of future inanity,

And forever an arbiter of other people’s predilections.

Signed and witnessed this 17th day of June,
Twenty twenty.


{ Citizen of this Parish and of Planet Earth }


Cabin Fever


Cabin Fever


At my kitchen chopping board,
While I’m getting dinner ready,
I’m engulfed by cabin fever
As my feelings swirl and eddy.

I set out to cook a meal,
But I’m overcome by whimsy.
I lose all sense of time,
Must have been that double whisky.

I take the smile from a banana,
Avocadian eyes and nose;
The eyeballs are two berries,
Bet you’d never think of those.

Baby carrots for the eyebrows,
Fat spring onions for the locks:
Now I’ve made a veggie’s portrait,
Opportunity, it knocks.

As boredom in my kitchen
Strikes a pensive lock-down note,
So I struggle to amuse,
Try to keep my mind afloat.

A childish occupation?
Well, it helps to pass the time.
As I struggle to stay sane,
I can always find a rhyme.



Drunk in Charge

grayscale photography of man pouring liquid from can on his face

Photo by Harrison Haines on

Drunk in Charge


Tell me, ossifer am I drunk,
Am I sipped as a newt;
Is my peech slurred, and jisdointed,
Do you drink I’m cute?

I only had eight piny tints,
Two friskies and a gin;
My tongue it’s full, my stomach dry,
My thirst has given in.

So when she offered to whet my wizzel
My stomach rose to meet me.
It told me not to chiss a mance,
It struggled to defeat me.

And soon I found myself committed,
As she scraped me from the floor.
I’d Rossed the Crubicon indeed,
I’d never done that before.

I’d never never, ever ever,
Been so dunk before;
Now I’d thrown fortune to the sinned,
Shown caution to the door.

I thought that I had scored, you see,
For though my shemory’s mady
I’d never even kissed before
So how could I defuse the lady?

She trapped me in her squeegee arms,
Offering more gin and sin;
Plied me with her cheadly darms
Till my pillwower gave in.

She meld my hind in threepest drall,
My soul it hoared to seaven;
She took advantage of my age,
I’m nearly sinety neven

So, occifer, please keat me trindly,
I’ve never dreen bunk before.
I promise I’ll not gain astray,
I’ll embellish you for chevermore.



Long Days Ago

thrupenny bit

Long Days Ago


L-S-D  (Pounds – Shillings & Pence)  . . . 

Pre-Decimal Currency


Long days and many years ago,
When my world was young,
The cash dispenser was my mum,
The ATM being still unsung.

Copper reigned and Silver sang,
Paper money was rare.
Of Ten Bob notes at Half a Pound
I was largely unaware.

The basis of our currency,
That was the lowly Penny;
Ha’pennies too were everywhere,
Certainly very many.

Farthings then were still extant,
Nine-sixty to the Pound.

A Shilling was a full Twelve Pence –
No longer still around.

The Florin, or the ‘Two-Bob Bit’,
Two Shillings it was then,
Has now become the Tenpence piece,
The word not used again.

Twenty Shillings to the Pound,
A Quid as I  remember;
Two-forty Pence you’d find there were
When one Pound I dismember.

Then there was the Thrupenny Bit,
Twelve-sided nickel-brass;
At eighty to the British Pound,
Weighty cash to amass.

A Bob, a Tanner, Half-a-Crown,
All common currency;
Spend a Penny? – I often did –
In an emergency.

Oh, how times change, devalued now,
Is our British coinage;
The Penny Store is now Poundstore,
Such changes in our language.

All these were common British coins,
Which then weighed down my pocket.
Now all I need to pay my bills
Is plastic in my wallet.


coin banner

A Seattle Limerick


‘The Pox Devil’ – WHB, 2018

A Seattle Limerick


‘Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.’


An old hooker who lived in Seattle,
Developed a cough with a rattle.
Yes, she had caught a chill,
And began feeling ill,
And soon knew she was losing the battle.

So she took herself off to the docs,
Who gave her the worst of all shocks,
When he said to her, “Dear,
It would seem to appear,
You’ve contracted a dose of the pox.

If you do not want to be dead,
I suggest you spend less time in bed.
It’s all much too risky,
So when you feel frisky,
Take one of these tablets Instead.”









Muck, that is a dirty word,
It sounds as if it smells;
A word to wash one’s hands of,
Its very sound repels.

Loony leaves a nasty taste,
Slides smoothly off the tongue,
But it is not nice, take my advice,
A word to leave unsung.

Slime is such another,
And slimy is the same,
Words to keep away from,
Ones I won’t exclaim.

Take words like boos and booze,
To me they are repugnant.
They may describe one’s feelings,
But they smack of poor judgement.

They’re onomatopoeic,
Not exactly slang’
But they lack that sense of candour,
Like boom and thump and bang.

So many words are wholesome,
Sweet sounding and pure.
But some words are not tasty,
Rude, uncouth and immature.





‘Britain on course to become cashless society ‘within the next 10 years’.

Article published in the Daily Telegraph … 19 February 2020




What would we do without our chequebooks?
Yes, What would we do without our cheques?
What would we do without our chequebooks?
Yet one more deprivation  sent to vex.

What would we do without our cash cards?
And, What would we do without our coins?
What would we do without our cash cards?
We’d feel it in our purses and our loins.

What would we do without our pence?
Yes, what would we do without small change?
What would we do without our coppers?
Our lives would be so penniless and strange.

What would we do without our fivers?
Yes, What would we do without our fives?
What would we do without our fivers?
I doubt if any one of us survives.

What would we do without our tenners?
Yes, What would we do without our notes?
What would we do without our tenners?
No cash, no cheques,  no fiscal  anecdotes.

What would we do without our chequebooks?
Yes, What would we do without our cheques?
What would we do without our chequebooks?
Yet one more deprivation sent to vex.

WHB   …  ©

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