From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.

Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Tuesday, 28 October 2014

I Dressed as a Ghost For Halloween

I dressed as a ghost for Halloween,
haunting and taunting the house;
I moaned in the hall and stayed unseen,
wafting and soft as a mouse.
I flickered the lights, and opened the drawers,
and shifted the tables and chairs.
I bumped in the night, and thumped on the floors,
and faded away in the air.

I dressed as a ghost for no one to see,
tricking and quick as a cat;
I dressed as un-being as I could un-be,
un-this-ing, a mystery that,
knocking on doors but slipping away
before I got caught in the light,
and wasn’t I sore at the end of day,
when none of my treats were in sight!

Tuesday, 7 October 2014

Zombie Reunion

Down by the graveyard,
There’s a radiation spill.
Here comes aunt Matilda,
And here comes Uncle Bill.

There’s Bobby-Joe the Second,
The Third and then the First.
They’re comin’ up together,
Though they never shared a hearse.

Now Great-Grandma Belinda-Sue
Is beatin’ Auntie Bess.
They never could see eye-to-eye,
And never will, I guess.

Cousin Bob and cousin Jill
Are draggin’ cousin Jack
They’re gonna chuck him in his grave,
Cause they don’t want him back.

Great-grandpappy Johnny-Earl
Is digging up his dad.
He’s thinking still about the will;
He’s dead but hopping mad.

Yes, several generations
Are coming home tonight.
Oh, all of my relations
are fixin’ for a fight!

While livin’ they were crazy;
Now dead they’re just plain mean.
It’s a family reunion
Like this town has never seen!

Mama's got the hatchet,
And pappa's got the gun.
Our zombie family's on the way;
There ain't nowhere to run.

Home Sweet Zombie Apocalypse

The windows are boarded,
The rations are hoarded,
The shotguns are loaded with care.

The door's double-barred,
And out in the yard,
The garden's protected by snares.

My room has a view,
And a rifle or two,
And axes beside the grenades;

Up here from my seat
I look down the street,
And watch the cadaver parades.

When neighbours out walking
Come calling and knocking,
They surely get shot in the head.

You may think it's rude,
But that's what you do
When all of your neighbours are dead.

Tuesday, 15 July 2014

The Lost Kite

It tugged and strained against my arm,
An eager thing, alive.
It fluttered in its thrumming frame
To swing, and soar, and strive.

It had to try; it had to flee;
I felt it in my hand.
It had to feel how it would fly
Unburdened of the land.

With scarce a thought - I barely knew -
My hand gave up its grip.
It ceased to cling as it was taught
and let the tether slip.

The creature spun and, like a hawk,
Cut up toward the sky.
Its colours flashed into the sun
And spiraled from my eye.

My feet, it seemed, had risen up,
Just inches from the grass.
I rose within a blinking dream,
and let the moment pass.

Then down I came to earth again,
With nothing in my hand.
The world around was just the same
Where I was left to stand,

Except that I no longer hold
My tether to the sun.
No longer can I pull the sky
Behind me as I run.

But still I see there's something else
To hold that's just as fine,
For like the kite, my hand is free,
Untethered from that line.

Friday, 27 June 2014


If you find you're afraid of the thunder, my dear,
then I'll be brave for you.
I'll be a bold fella, unfold my umbrella
to shield you and save you
and say to you, dear,
that there's nothing in thunder to fear.

And if I am far away from here
on the distant side of the storm,
I'll jump from the hump of a cumulus cloud
into the wind that whips at the prow
of my ship with umbrellas for sails.

I'll whirl around a tornado's eye
and skip across the thundering sky
to fly where you lie in the gales,
and faster than rain on the pattering pane,
unfurl my umbrellas, my dear,
and lift you with ease on a summery breeze
to carry you far from here,
far from your wondering,
fretful and thundering,
far from the sundering rain.

Saturday, 8 February 2014

Lucinda Met a Zombie Man

Lucinda met a zombie man;
She vowed she’d be his bride.
A bride!  A bride!  At last, a bride!
What difference if her groom had died;
She knew his loving, milky eyes
Saw only what’s inside.

She knew he didn’t mind her limp,
Her crooked teeth or lazy eye.
Her tangled hair flew everywhere,
Her zombie man, though, didn't care.
And what’s a wart or twenty-two;
Her zombie man, he looked right through.
His love was simple, pure and true.

A wedding cake and pink champagne!
A cake and pink champagne!
Lucinda knew, oh yes, she knew,
Her zombie love, he loved her true;
He loved her for her brain.