Toilet Humour – Quite Literally

Hello Poetry Lovers

One of those domestic hazards has occurred. One that is a lifeline for all of us. Yes, the toilet seat has broken! A real blow for any household and mankind.

So how I could not resist a toilet triolet?! A nonsense verse which could actually hit home! Do read on …

Toilet Triolet

The white toilet seat is broken 

It was only put in recently 

At first I thought you were joking

The white toilet seat is broken

That cheap screw was just a token

That was fitted in feebly 

The white toilet seat is broken

It was only put in recently 

Well, that was fun. A bit of toilet humour occasionally (more often in my case) never hurt anyone. Now, I know there’s an inner toilet in all of you, so toilet poems on a postcard to Dobby please…

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon……..

Playing with Exes…..

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, back to poetry prompts from the wonderful Sue Burge’s mind gym. This time it’s using words with ‘Ex’ and possibly ‘ly’. I only managed one of the latter but I got in there with the ‘ex’s’.

I drew so many women last night during I Claudius (who’s watching that on BBC4 ? – isn’t it still wonderful?!) so I was happy to illustrate this and show you my results of this prompt. Read on if you dare…..

The Extract….

It was extremely bad form 

To use such expletives 

And express my views like that 

And to compare you to excrement

I can’t help being so extrovert

And talking to excess 

Or rather shouting excruciatingly

No, I’m not from Exeter

Nor from Exmouth neither 

Excuse me for my lack of excuses

H.Moulson 2023

I hope you liked that piece, PL’s. I know you all have “Ex’s” in you too, so answers on a postcard please…….

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. We’ll be back with more quirky pieces real soon….

Eccentric Corner part II

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome to Part Two of Eccentric rhymes. And the super and talented poet, Trisha Broomfield has come up with some belters. Very clever pieces, thank you Trisha.

These are marvellous. Read on if you dare

Trisha’s Eye Rhymes

Such is the subtle way of love 

it highlights the helplessness of man

Cupid’s arrows in straight lines move

Exfoliate that old dead skin, we must slough

to leave us younger looking and smooth

ready to dance the night away in Slough!

You know trouble is going to come

when the bottle’s empty but they ask for more

your guests do not want to go home.

The cat has climbed the highest bough

eye-level with a tawny owl

who gives a subtle, ‘this is mine’ cough.

To me it’s always been the cafe

with bacon sarnies and brown tea

my friend’ s a cut above, to her it’s the café.

©TB

Weren’t they just ingenious and clever?! My favourite was the Slough piece. Excellent! Thanks again Trisha. Please keep them coming. That applies to you too, PL’s. Your nonsense rhymes this way please

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers, we’ll be back real soon….

Summertime…..

Hello Poetry Lovers

We can’t let summer get away without at least one tribute to it. And hands up who remembers that summer of ‘76! Hmm..quite a few raised hands there, I see. What an impact that July had on our lives!

I have conveyed Summer generally in my triolet below. However, Trisha Broomfield has written such a beautiful and visual piece about that monumental summer. Superb, Trisha, thank you for letting me republish it.

Trisha’s piece follows mine. Read on if you dare!

Summer Triolet

Memories of past summers sit on my skin

Some of them not worth recalling 

Boring, lonely, only fit for the bin 

Memories of past summers sit on my skin

Even good summers don’t get a look in 

Perhaps they were just as appalling 

Memories of past summers sit on my skin

Some of them not worth recalling. 

HM 2022

Sunrise Over Islington

It was the only way to get a tan, olive oil mixed with vinegar.

Spreading ourselves on Hampstead Heath,

we fried, St Tropez

an aspiration.

It was the only way to keep cool at night.

We scaled the heights of giddy gates,

swam languidly, naked, in an outdoor pool

surrounded by statues.

It was the only way to party.

We opened our doors to the ‘bring a bottle’ crowd.

By dawn they’d slipped out silently,

taking our possessions.

In our empty flat we stood,

watching through windows

the sun rise

over Islington.

Trisha Broomfield 2019

Wasn’t that a beautiful poem, PL’s. The atmosphere and anguish and joy of the young in London during a brutal summer. I can’t get enough of it.

Thanks again, Trisha. I’m sorry your things got nicked, a painful lesson, I guess. Do read more of Trisha’s work in her beautiful collections When Peter Sellers Came to Tea and Husbands for Breakfast.

And thank you for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon…..

Eccentricities

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, I think it’s this unexpected and brutal heat, but suddenly I’m rhyming for England!

Those who are aware of my poetry know I never go near rhyme! However, on attempting to conquer Eye Rhymes, I ended up with only two of those, and the rest are conventional pieces. Never mind, I had great fun doing them.

They really are a bit eccentric, so just humour me. Read on if you dare!

It’s late and enough is enough

As they linger over their tarmac coffee

Stay polite and give a delicate cough

Inside we’ll think we’re only youths

Our wrinkled skin tells us nothing 

But to flaunt botoxed faces is uncouth

A faded beauty, you remain glamorous 

But don’t overdo your lipstick and blusher 

you can end up looking phosphorus !

Welcome to the world, lovely daughter

but please, no bellyaching

just sweet and gurgling laughter

Giving birth hands you a false euphoria 

Until the flowers and cards stop arriving

Avoid every ailment, especially pneumonia 

Thanks for tuning in and reading, PL’s. Please send any eccentric rhymes on a postcard. I’m off on my travels next week but Dobby, my assistant, will take charge (I think).

Cat’s Hour

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, what a lucky find I had while trying to find a final poetry book for The Sealey Challenge!

Going down my bookshelf and coughing from the dust, I found Michael Parkin’s book of Louis Wain cats with some beautiful poetry. Cat lovers and otherwise would not resist the charm of this book. I remember Mum buying this for me in the early eighties and it’s been down in the vaults ever since! So it’s time it had an airing….

Here’s some extracts…

Cat in the Flowerbed

‘I’ve bided my time for many a day

And passed by many fine cats

But the finest of all, the one I love most

Is elsewhere worrying about rats’

My favourite cat too! I love the expression on this tabby’s face. Some of these pieces are credited and some are not.

Monarch of the Garden

‘I am monarch of all I survey,

My right there is none to dispute;

From the centre all round to the sea

I am lord of the fowl and the brute.’

(William Cowper)

I think that’s your feelings too, Dobby.

One of my favourite images out of many, is this one of a mother giving her kitten profound advice;

‘Now, my kitten, remember these proverbs: “One swallow does not make a supper” and “A mouse in the paws is worth two in the pantry.”

What excellent advice, wouldn’t you agree, Dobby? Er – Dobby..??

I think that’s a hint to wrap it up for now, more from this beautiful book later on….

Thanks for tuning into Cat’s Hour, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon……..

Camden Fringe ‘23

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to the What I did on my holidays series.

Well, apart from the Sealey Challenge, I’ve been seeing and reviewing a lot of the Camden Fringe. Going on through the whole of August, so much talent is packed in and without the chaos of Edinburgh’s Festival, its biggest rival.

However, Camden is not without its own noise but at least you can go home afterwards!

Min Theatre’s Glad to be Dead?, on the first day of the Camden Fringe at the marvellous Hen & Chickens theatre, was haunting and atmospheric. Making me sleep with the light on! Followed by Covadonga Camblor’s Maybe I Do? – an absorbing turmoil of a young girl’s decision to marry.

The Hen & Chickens Theatre in St Paul’s Road is literally opposite the overground station. However, not all venues were so straightforward.

The beautiful Upstairs at the Gatehouse for instance, was a right old hike uphill from Highgate tube and don’t get me started on The Rosemary Branch Theatre! However we hit pay dirt with This Girl and An Evening with Gene Montague respectively. A real learning curve about the complexity of Camden’s borough! Never underestimate such a place.

On safer ground at the Hen & Chickens, I had the privilege of seeing 222 Production’s Trustfall, Lewys Holt’s Phrases, and Dave Lee Morgan’s Poems on Gender.

I returned to the Etcetera Theatre in throbbing and vibrant Camden Town and its intimate space was a great venue for Shaira Berg’s Gaslight, a very disturbing play. Followed by Heleana & Sophia Blackwell’s Wife Material at The Camden People’s Theatre. My first visit to this terrific venue, and a terrific show.

I was sad to go to my last production at the Hen & Chickens but How to be Jewish again, wittily performed and written by Gillian Fischer was a fitting end.

Thank you, Camden Fringe and Mark Aspen Reviews for making this such a great journey.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s, and reading about my travels. We’ll be back with more poetry action real soon…..

The Sealey Challenge

Hello Poetry Lovers

Sorry it’s been nearly a week, I’ve been busy as a bee!

The Sealey Challenge has been one of my preoccupations. Just to refresh your memory, the plan is to read a poetry pamphlet every day for the month of August and post it on social media. And I’m nearly fresh out! August is such a long month. So it’s up the library for me.

It does not help that Dobby has gone on strike and refuses to pose with any of the books. She’s demanding more sardines – but that’s impossible, they’re bad for her tummy, and so negotiations have broke down completely.

Luckily, I had back up with Mum’s Russian dolls and the Homepride Men, but I’ve since heard that they’ve come out in sympathy and are picketing outside!

These are just some of the wonderful books I’ve been featuring and re-reading. I’ll keep you posted on my progress and that I will actually make it to the 31st!! Wish me luck.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back with more poetry adventures real soon ……..

The Cat Who Isn’t Ours


Hello Poetry Lovers

Now, as most of us cat lovers are aware, it was International Cat’s Day on Tuesday. So clever poet and friend Trisha Broomfield has penned a wonderful tribute to these felines, especially Perry who seems to have adopted her.

Adorable cat but a mystery background. Here, Trisha sums up her feelings for Perry very well. Read on….

The cat who isn’t ours
Hurries to greet us when we return home
Elegantly leaps through open windows


Curls up on blankets, towels or vacated seats
Any time he can, without a backward glance
To him his home is here, even though it is not.


We do not feed the cat, who is not ours
Honestly, maybe a small portion of turkey at Christmas
Or a morsel of chicken, when we weaken.


In his mind there is no reason why he
Should not be welcomed in
No excuse for us not to stroke his fur, allow him
To sit on our laptops, cat’s love that


Over all, we are happy to see the cat, expect when he miaows
Under the bedroom window at dawn.
Really, our lives are richer for his visits, but he does
Steal in bearing dead mice. Then wonders why we are not thrilled.
©TB

Wasn’t that a wonderful piece?! Thank you so much for that, Trisha. My love to Perry… Now, who would like to write about their own cat? On a postcard please, to the usual address…

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon…..

Summer of ‘76

Hello Poetry Lovers

So who remembers that relentless summer of ‘76?! Most of us, I bet. That three weeks in July of scalding temperatures and droughts. That picture of me above said it all!

Not being a great fan of the heat, I thought I’d buried it, but clever poet Sharon Andrews gave the most wonderful prompt this week Where had Summer gone? And 1976 came flooding back……. I remember that heatwave sloped off as quickly as it had come. I’ve tried to put this over in the piece below. Read on…..

Where Had Summer Gone?

Where had summer gone?

They asked after the relentless 

heatwave of ‘76

Had it melted into badly paid

summer jobs and other heartaches?

Swallowed up by lost loves 

and the Italian boys on the street?

Half lagers in the Castle pub

while sneering at punks ?

All that remained was red peeling

skin on tired shoulders 

And a nagging hosepipe ban 

It simply merged into an indolent

August 

And crept away as fast as it came 

Wasn’t that a great prompt?! Please keep them coming, Sharon. Thank you for that.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. We’ll be back real soon……