Posted on 21st Apr 2021
A Poetic Wrinkle I like poetry to rhyme, With a touch of symbolism I have learnt over time To avoid words like journalism.
Posted on 10th Apr 2021
Considered silly, not serious,
Impish, but never imperious.
My verse is light, not stodgy, heavy,
Less red wine and more beer bevvy.
No clever rhymes to take your breath,
My verse won't scare you half to death.
When I paint pictures, it's by halves,
I'm only here to make you laugh.
So, if you chuckle at my poem,
Tha'll do for me and I've hit home.
Posted on 19th Mar 2021
The Canine Poet I tried to draft a careful poem Of length, with strength, a testing tome. The final draft though, monochrome It should have stayed in house, at home. So, I turned to trite, a ditty Should have learned, as far from pretty. Try to force iambic meter Like compulsive over-eater. Talent turns to trad. a sonnet, Boy, that's just as bad, it's chronic. This queer compulsion to get rhyme To scan, oh man, it's such a crime. I'll try some prose, see how that goes, A budding Rowling, no one knows. That's it, my friend, I'll write a book With twisted end to get you hooked. Pen a song, with awesome lyrics Dance floor flooded atmospherics. Writing now, on upward spiral, Fame and fortune, even viral. Name in lights, and big star billing. Upbeat dog treats, snoozing, chilling. Win awards, a prize, a trophy, Accolades and "Well done Dauphy."
Posted on 13th Mar 2021
The Poet's Pen
Six slim inches of ink, with proclivity
To harness her sharp creativity.
The potential for much positivity
And the power to beat negativity.
Oft times, a frustrating activity
Requiring at times perspectivity.
Striving to get objectivity,
Shunning the crass subjectivity.
She strives to achieve productivity,
Artistic, with some sensitivity,
But lacking required motivity
Writes, but once a year, a nativity.
Posted on 31st Jan 2021
Hobbo: The French are a romantic bunch aren’t they Dauphy?
Dauphy: We are, why?
Hobbo: I thought that I’d move away from funny poems and try my hand at something a bit more romantic.
Dauphy: Mon Dieu!
Hobbo: So, I’ve written a love poem.
Dauphy: This has trouble written all over it! Let’s have a look then…
A Yorksher love poem Tha'll get me pension, when I die and 'tools inside me shed. You are the gravy in me pie the girl I chose to wed. Tha's like the salt, I put on 'chips The froth that warms me beer a lass that wobbles when she strips to who there's no compeer. And tha's the lass what 'ad me kids and set me 'eart a thuddin'. As solid as two dustbin lids the air in 'Yorksher puddin'. Tha's the mush in mushy peas The fluff in fluffy slippers What taught me 'bout the birds 'n'bees The girl that cooks me kippers. Tha's the match what lit me fire The stubble on me chin Who dances like a tumble drier The nine in feminine. So, me love, rough as you are 'tis death will force our partin' Tha's more use norra flashy car Despite tha' flippin' fartin'. Yorksher: Yorkshire tha'll: you will me: my tha's: you are compeer: compare 'eart: heart Yorkshire pudding: A savoury'pudding' eaten with roast dinners norra: than a
Dauphy: The mush in mushy peas!
Hobbo: I know, it’s good isn’t it?
Dauphy: Has Mrs Hobbo seen this?
Hobbo: No. Not yet.
Dauphy: Well, don’t show her it, or you’re dead!
Hobbo: Why? I thought she’d like it.
Dauphy: Where do I start?…
Posted on 26th Jan 2021
A poetical movement Six sonnets sail the seas A rondeau rows the ocean The limerick rarely sees Such poetry in motion.
Posted on 23rd Jan 2021
Classic Car The motor belonged to his niece But she let him have it, on lease On lifting the bonnet A fourteen line sonnet The source of the rhyme, ancient grease.
Posted on 5th Jan 2021
Dauphy: That stuff we write…
Hobbo: What about it?
Dauphy: We don’t always follow the rules, do we?
Hobbo: It doesn’t matter. As long as we are making people laugh.
Dauphy: I was hoping you’d say that.
Dauphy: I’ve written another.
Hobbo: Let’s hear it then.
Dauphy: You’ll type it up?
Hobbo: Don’t I always?…
Poetry Masterclass (by Dauphy) I don't give a Nelly for a villanelle or a bonnet for a fourteen line sonnet. I'd rather watch bonanza than struggle with a stanza. A soliloquy seems silly to me. My nemesis could be mimesis. If I have a cold then I might say ode. I'd never take a stance on dissonance or assonance. When I do meet up with Koo I'll say howdy, not haiku. I wouldn't give a meg about a mixed up meter. You can't lick a lyric for good alliteration and a well penned limerick can bring joy to a nation. So, epic or ballad stick those syllabic rules. Me and my mate Hobbo are merely comic fools.
Posted on 31st Oct 2020
The time has come, for tricks and treats, for fiendish fun and frights, and for the announcement of the EIF Halloween Poetry Challenge winning entries! This week, we had a frightfully good response, and I would like to thank everyone who entered. I had so much spooky fun reading your entries. A special thanks to…EIF Halloween Poetry Challenge: The Results! — Experiments in Fiction
Posted on 22nd Oct 2020
For You Here's a poem for you I wrote it by myself If I hadn't made it up It would still be on the shelf.