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.