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No, it's not ghoulish, nor girlish. Not for the prude but nor is it rude!    Verses by the mile to make you smile!
If you like writing rhymes yourself,
please visit my message board The Poet's PortaL-oo
or add to the never -ending Cyber Saga
or try your hand at sonnets, ballads and limericks at The Ultimate Challenge
Instructions for sonnets, ballads and limericks can be found here

The archives from The Poet's PortaL-oo can be accessed from here

The archives from the Cybersaga can be accessed here




Oh wouldn't it be wonderful 
To be a government spy? 
To carry on a secret life 
Live dangerously or die 

Oh wouldn't it be awful 
To be a government spy? 
To often leave your family 
And tell them all a lie 

Oh wouldn't it be exciting 
To be a government spy? 
To carry out surveillance 
With a kind of xray eye 

Oh wouldn't it be disgusting 
To be a government spy? 
To poke around in rubbish bins 
In people's lives to pry 

Oh wouldn't it be fabulous 
To be a government spy? 
To pass on information 
Crack codes that tell you why 

Oh wouldn't it be alarming 
To be a government spy? 
To find democracy is futile 
And anarchy is nigh 

Oh wouldn't it be fantastic 
To be a government spy? 
To be a martial arts expert 
And make the baddies cry 

Oh wouldn't it be ghastly 
To be a government spy? 
To be a schitzophrenic 
Instead of simply I? 


I've always envied that James Bond
And not because of the kicks
I'd love to get my hands on some
Fancy spy type tricks


       I'm feeling so awed, yes I'm really floored
       Saw a pussy cat walk without paws
       The sight I abhored, the fact I applaud

       But it walked so where are the flaws? 


Of offspring, old folks used to say
"They should be seen and not heard"

That would be unnatural play-
With kids not saying a word

But let's follow that thought a while
Imagine the quiet ! Absurd ?

Let's start a new playing style
Where mime conveys meaning ('though blurred)

After all, most children don't listen
To whatever the others referred

So why allow e'n a suspicion
Of sound from any young nerd?

Now, how do you like my idea?
Is this a play-method preferred?

It's a castle out of reach in the air
If only dreams really occurred !


"Friends, Romans, and countrymen,
  lend me your ears" said Mark
The people took him literally-
  lopped ears off for a lark 

A  sackful had Mark Anthony, 
  of ears lent to him
(Mike Tyson would've loved to, 
  indulge his tasteless whim) 

But the Roman ears were meant for, 
  a milk-soaked, dark-haired queen 
She, from the land of pyramids, 
  Cleopatra's who I mean

A fairer pharoah there was not, 
  unblonde and yet dizzy
A roll of carpet was unwound, 
  she caused a real tizzy 

Cleopatra lay there starkers, 
  exotic and unwrapped
A gift in exchange for Egypt, 
 'cos Caesar had them trapped

Things didn't go as planned though, 
  Mark Ant'ny saw her first
And when Cleo saw those ears, 
  her heart did almost burst

Crippled by lusty emotion, 
  they both went all weak-kneed
And so what became of Egypt? 
Another tale indeed. 


The emperor of ancient Rome, 
he was fatally stabbed
Stuck, pig-like, in the rotunda, 
his murderer never nabbed

The rumour was, Brutus did it; 
Julius died,but why?
The Roman Senate had to know: 
hired a roamin' P.I.

There was a Mrs Julius, 
first suspect, that's the wife
So the paid investigator, 
asked her about the knife

Would she listen, would she answer?
No too frazzled and stressed out
(She hadn't tried the rhyming cure, 
or she'd have coped, no doubt)

All the Private roamin' Eye heard, 
was repeated phrase
She sounded like a scratched record, 
remember LP days?

Rambling on how she had warned him, 
said "Julie, please don't go"
"It's the Ides of March!" she told him, 
her voice all shrill with woe

And why, you ask, was she worried, 
about that very date?
The Ides of March had been foretold, 
as when he'd meet his fate

A very brave courageous man, 
big Julie might have been
But I suspect he wanted to, 
escape that nagging scene

Big Julius was out of there, 
despite the crystal ball
Despite the fortune of the day: 
death would him befall

He heeded not soothsayers,
nor heeded he his wife
Ignoring all portents of doom, 
so lost was Caesar's life

There is a moral hidden here, 
about the where and when
So friends and Romans listen well, 
hear me, my countrymen:

If a girl goes on and on 
and is a nagging pain
Ignoring her could be your death 

       (You'd rather to go insane?)
Science Fiction is my addiction today 
Of all the stories where my eyes lay 
Those are the ones where I wish to stay 

To travel afar and meet aliens
Pretend to live inside their skins
To cope with problems, discover new sins 

The best bit is reading futuristic visions
Of wristwatch p.c.s, nuclear fissions 
And telepathy and dragony missions

(Oh dear, that sounds like dragon emissions!)


Long long ago on a sailing ship
Came James Cook on a business trip

He used his crew but had no maid
Some land he sought so he'd be paid

Downunder went the 'Endeavour'
But did it sink? Oh no, not ever!


Leafing through glossy lifestyle pages
Glimpsing houses perfect and ageless
Scanning beautifully, elegant rooms
Where someone actually lives, one assumes...
There's never a mess or an old comfy chair
Everything shines, polished and bare

The effort involved to maintain all, pristine
Is overkill, if you know what I mean
Attempts to emulate such style
For more than one is not worthwhile...
Unless of funds, you've a boundless source
Redecorating yearly, of course


Here commences a tale of adventure in space
Our hero is rocketing off to some place
And so that you feel that you know him a bit 
I'll describe his looks and also his wit
He's short and dumpty and pale of face
-Of perfect proportion there isn't a trace- 
But what a smile transforms his visage
When orbiting planets in a rocket so large...
...That there is room for luxury
(A spa bath with holders for cups of tea) 
His wit is something best explained
Later, facing aliens, bravery feigned 
And what is his name this fine young fellow? 
Inspired by his belly, his nickname is JELLO

Jello and the Flying Saucer

So Jello took off in a supersonic ship
Towards the stars in a speed of light trip
He took his laptop and a long saga-ish book
He took some kleenex cos he's such a sook
He took his teabags and powdered milk
He packed his sleepsak of synthetic silk

The above were for comfort as you would know
Some other supplies also had to go:
A food synthesiser for protein and such
A hydroponic garden that grew nothing much
(Green leafy vegies with no taste at all)
He diverted this system to a shower stall

Jello prefers pooping pills for his vitamin C
And if you suspect more, well, don't look at me
You might have noticed that Jello is clean...
A clean-freak, you might say but that would be mean
He does love to ablute in a bubbling spa bath
And when in the shower, will he sing? No he'll laugh!

A B.O. conscious fellow, is our hero Jello
        On a mystery mission about a costello.*

 * 'Costello' : A fellow from another constellation


>>Entered a Solar System full of flying saucers
>>Soon accosted by lisping little law-enforcers
>>These aliens believed that I was their foe
>>Pint-sized, they were, like that doll, G.I.Joe
>>Unlike the toy, tho', these guys could talk
>>But their words were affected by a tongue with a fork
>>I translated their language by going online
>>Checked bookmarks and found a dictionary so fine
>>They only immobilised my legs and then
>>I offered them tea, which they call 'sssthlen'
>>They sucked the tea thru' one side of the tongue
>>Then counted soap bubbles which we sat among
>>(My spa bath bubbles had them counting so fast
>>They put down their stun-guns and I moved at last)
>>Grabbing those stunners, I pointed them low
>>And unstunned my legs then aimed at them so...
>>They scrambled out and boy did they bellow
>>They'll leave me alone now, or my name's not Jello

>>BTW  I'm outa soap
>>A zip file of some is what I hope
>>you can send. Best try converted vox
>>from some silly young shaver's soap box 


There came a tall, imposing miss
Aboard the ship, in search of bliss
Which meant for her
Sunk chest treasure
That's why she gave old crocs a kiss

Old men are worth their weight in gold
That's what she said to friends, I'm told
To set the bait
She'd fish and wait
And wear her clothing tight and bold


One passenger aboard 'The Queen'
Is hardly ever fully seen
At first he seemed, well, rather keen
And his attentions made me preen

He's hiding round the corner now
Or maybe sulking on the prow
He rushed off after I said "Chow-"
"I want to be a spendthrift Frau"

He wears dark glasses day and night
And claimed the moon was so darn bright
That recognise him I just might
(I assumed that he was right)

But if he's famous I'd endure
Since fame means riches that's for sure
We dated on a camel tour
But he 'fell' off in deep manure

His disguise had lots of chinks
(He had no interest buying minks)
So I pushed off around the Sphinx
The smell of HIS money really stinks


You couldn't stop? Had things to do? 
You stayed so long there was a queue 
Of well-shod folk waiting for you

And on emergence...yes, it's true: 
You checked their nikes and reeboks too
Your high heel wasn't among that crew

For consolation you made a brew 
[A pot of tea for the ignorant few]
And dunked a donut for something to chew

 And wore a comfy old slipper in lieu


One Verse Per Page with voice-over