Words Can Express
With a Little Distortion;
No Need To Guess –
My Face Is My Fortune.
The above drawings were created in the 1960s by four 10 and 11 year old pupils in my class at a Putney (London) Primary School.
I Am Who I Am
Tag Archives: names
CHERITA #3
My third experiment with the poetic form – The CHERITA . . .
‘Cherita’ is the Malay word for story or tale. A cherita consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then finishing with a three-line verse. It can be written solo or with up to three partners. (See the website at: https://www.thecherita.com for further information).
Rhyming is not required, but here is a version which does include rhyme . . .
3.
I walked along the towpath
Observing each boat as I passed
Until I reached the very last.
A strange name it had
Some may think it sad
But no, it made me glad.
Tweaks Of The WEEK … Well … Why Not?
(On alternative naming schemes)
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–1. Thisday, Thatday, Yesday, Noday, Someday, Wasday, Willday,
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2. Wanday, Tooday, Threeday, Forday, Fiveday, Sixday, Svenday.
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3. … And in the Beginning …
In the Year DOT
Then were there fifty-two weeks created
Each one divided into seven days
And the first day of the week, Plod decreed,
Let it be called Oneday,
Let that day be followed,
In the nature of sequences, by Twosday.
Then let’s have Weddingsday,
Especially gifted for the newly-betrothed, the hopeful among us,
Followed, halfway thru the week, with some relief,
We shall have Throosday.
Then, that traditional day of the Fish-in-fat-friers
I will create, and will call Fryday,
Straightway, next, lest they fret and cause a disturbance,
I must keep Satyrs-day for my naughty little friends to frolic.
After which, I insist, demand in fact,
To keep intact,
one final day of my Seven-days,
My Tweak of the Week
a day for rest, best of the rest,
A day for ME
when the sun will always shine,
To be known as Sun-day.
The only really Fun-day
And so, I pray
Without delay
While the sun shines make hay
Go out and play
Be gay
Have your say
Keep the blues at bay
Throw cautions away
Head off decay
No lockdown this day
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POOR BILL
POOR BILL
Poor Bill Posters
They did lead him a dance;
They were always out to get him,
He never stood a chance.
I wonder if they caught him,
Caught him in the act.
Or maybe he escaped
After he’d their shop ransacked.
What had he done to vex them,
Had he been so bad?
Why had they sworn to catch him,
That mad and crazy lad?
A dyed-in-the-wool shoplifter,
A lousy screwed-up thief,
An habitual offender,
Who’d brought them endless grief?
But I hope they’ll never catch him,
It’s his name that let him down;
That eventually undid him,
And drove him out of town.
Photos: WHB . . . Surrey, England – 2020
What’s In A Name? . . . 3 Limericks
THREE LIMERICKS
Aloysius Archibald Ash
Was considered exceedingly brash
When he said to his mater
You’re getting like pater
I especially like your moustache.
Mister Horatio Hess
Lived his whole life under stress
When he tried to slow down
His continuous frown
Meant his face was a permanent mess
Mister Hieronymus Bosch
Never thought he’d be posh
But his depiction of Hell
Went down very well
And it earned him a great deal of dosh
What’s In a NAME?
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
What’s In a NAME?
A Girl’s Lament in her Search for a Suitable Partner
Ladies, I’m thinking,
of marrying soon,
But very few men
Would cause me to swoon.
I’d be very choosy,
I’d go for the name
I’m no boozy floozy,
They’re not all the same.
For I’d soon kill a Bill
Get sick of a Dick;
Disgorge a George,
And enslave any Dave.
I’d get fed up with Fred,
And I’d smack out at Jack;
I might prosper with Oscar;
Test my libido with Leo,
And treat Tom with aplomb.
I’d give Max the axe,
And both Lucus and Brutus –
No better than Judas!
A Ted I would dread;
As for Teddy – not ready;
And Desperate Dan,
From far Kasakhstan,
Was never the man,
To be in my plan.
Yes, I went into spasm
When I first met Adam.
I’d give Joe the elbow,
He’s so gung-ho with gusto.
The pond I did dredge
To find only poor Reg;
Then a minnow ‘mongst men
I met poor little Ben.
Dylan’s a villain,
And Toby’s a phony.
Carter’s a martyr,
A long-suffering non-starter.
Jude was a pseud,
Lewd, crude and screwed.
As for Ollie, Good Golly,
Much too melancholy.
Frank drew a blank,
So rank … and he stank,
And no medal of honour
Goes out to Connor.
But I’d say after all –
Though I bawl and I stall,
I’d rather a Paul
Than just nothing at all.
Of course, if the chance
came my way,
Being so scrumptious,
To be a new duchess,
At the end of the day
No longer I’d tarry,
I’d marry a Harry.
Roland's Ragbag 