The One Minute Poem….

Hello Poetry Lovers

This week I was compelled to take on this one minute poem inspired by the lovely poet Sharron Green

What with 60 syllables, 3 stanzas of 4 lines and rhyming, it certainly was not the walkover I took it to be. And I’ve penned my favourite subject sugar.

Anyway, read on, the first line has to have 8 syllables;

Bread and Jam

I want bread and sugar to eat

Because it’s neat 

It tastes so sweet 

Down to my feet

I must have sugar in my tea 

It’s part of me

And who I am

Plus I like jam

 Will you get me some more red jam?

Who gives a damn?! 

Sticky and sweet

I feel replete 

H Moulson 2021

Wasn’t that a hoot?! Mrs Slagg likes it because it contains sugar – so how could I go wrong?! Any one minute poems most welcome, on any subject.

Thanks for tuning, PL’s. Stay tuned for more poetry action real soon

The Cat Triolet

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to our Triolet Corner.

Lovely and talented poet, Trisha Broomfield has given us this wonderful piece titled ‘The Cat’.

Beautifully done and right up mine and Mrs Slagg’s street. Trisha will be given a personal invitation from the lady herself to read this piece live at the Slagg’s Cafe. A great honour.

It’s an exquisite triolet, so read on ;

The Cat

The cat sits on my door mat

It must have its own home

It’s not thin, but not fat

The cat sits on my doormat

Maybe it has smelled a rat?

It looks at me, its eyes alone

The cat sits on my doormat

It must have its own home?

Trisha Broomfield 17/06/2021

Wasn’t that a terrific piece?! Thank you so much, Trisha. See you at the Slagg’s Cafe. There is an open invitation to send in your own triolets, PL’s.

Thanks for tuning in, be back with more antics real soon….

Toilet Triolet

Hello Poetry Lovers and welcome back to Mrs Slagg’s open mic.

Today, the lovely and clever poet Sharron Green has risen to the Triolet challenge laid down by Octavia (see last post) and has given us a wonderful Toilet Triolet piece. An exciting new school of poetry is emerging

Do read on;

A Toilet Triolet for Slagg’s Café

Please treat this loo with some respect 

Don’t leave it in a sorry state

Sometimes it falls into neglect 

Please treat this loo with some respect

Report each rodent or insect 

We know the plumbing’s not that great

Please treat this loo with some respect 

Don’t leave it in a sorry state 

Sharron Green 2021 rhymes_n_roses

Wasn’t that wonderful?! Thank you so much, Sharron. Such a talented and prolific poet. Keep them coming, PL’s.

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers. Stay tuned and we’ll be back real soon.

Open Mic at the Slagg’s Cafe

Well, Poetry Lovers

Another notorious open mic session is underway at our favourite cafe.

Get yourselves here, and put your name down for Mrs Slagg’s acclaim – or more likely, verbal abuse. I wouldn’t miss that for the world, especially the latter. People queue up for that sort of thing in here.

I am deeply shocked that second wife, Octavia from the ‘big house’ has delivered this cheeky triolet piece. This lady of blue-blooded stock, former landed-gentry and Roedean educated? Not to mention a regular church attendee – mind you, they’re the worst.

I would actually call this a Toilet piece, but read on and see what you think.

I never wear knickers to breakfast

I never wear underwear 

Until boiled eggs have been served 

Everyone else is unaware

I never wear underwear

But they’ll never see any pubic hair

That would be undeserved. 

I never wear underwear

Until boiled eggs have been served 

Octavia Amanda Ann 2021

Well, it looks like Octavia’s husband has slumped in shock! Can someone help him get up again?!

Can you deliver a triolet form, PL’s? It doesn’t have to be smutty like the lady of the houses’. Do send them in or put your name down to read. Dobby’s taking bookings now…

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. Sign up for Slagg’s Cafe open mic now……..!!!

Unhappy Hour at the Slagg’s Cafe

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome back to the Slagg’s Cafe. Do join us for Unhappy Hour.

My predictions came true and Mrs Slagg has penned a few forms of poetry.

I think it’s best we start off with the (very) loose Kyrielle form what she has wrote. Do read on;

Slagg’s Kyrielle

The Slagg’s Cafe is open for tea

An invitation from Mr Slagg and Me

and eat as much pie as you can see.

Where is the bloody sugar?!

Come in and put down those bags

you have to drink tea and smoke fags

we have a selection of last year’s mags

Where is the bloody sugar?!

Our chairs are comfy, the table’s round.

Have some pie, it’ll cost you a pound.

Sugar put in the tea, I love the sound

Where is the bloody sugar?!

T Slagg 2021

Wasn’t that a belter?! Well done, Mrs Slagg. Nice piece. Watch out for her Ghazal – or maybe Bop poem next time.

Do send in one of these forms yourself. All poems welcome.


Thanks for tuning in, PL’s. Come back real soon for more poetry antics……

Dobby on the Rampage

Hello Poetry Lovers

Today we hear Dobby’s side of things – again. She has written this ghazal piece – one of the tasks set by the fantastic Poetix university.

No doubt, Mrs Slagg will get on the case too, so watch out for her’s.

A ghazal is twelve stanzas of two verses, and the last line must end with the same word. Also the first stanza has to have the same word on each line, and the last stanza must mention the narrator/cat. Phew! I tell you what, just read it……

A Cat’s Ghazal

She won’t give me sardines or nothing! 

She who gives me everything, yet nothing! 

Sardines pictured on a shiny oval tin

Unopened while my bowl has nothing 

She says they’re bad for my tummy-wummy 

That I bring them back up till there’s nothing 

Ginger cat at number 47 gets them on tap

He licks his greasy chops but gives me nothing 

I write a deep poem about this betrayal 

But the reader understands nothing 

How could she be so brutal and cruel?!  

The Happy Shopper bag that brings nothing

I phoned the RSPCA and Protection League

But once I stated my case, they said nothing. 

Healthy food? Who and What is that?!  

A shiny coat that means nothing

I write an angry letter to the Times 

Editor is charmed but does nothing 

I claw the bedroom curtains and carpet 

She just chucks me out saying nothing. 

She’s making a sardine casserole 

I sit on it so she also has nothing. 

“There’s only sandwiches, dear.” She tells him,

“Dobby once again made sure we had nothing.”  

HM 2021

Well, I guess we now await Mrs Slagg’s.

Thank you for tuning in, PL’s. I hope you enjoyed that Monday morning entertainment/tail of woe (geddit?!).

Tune in real soon…..

Shorts, Skirts and Serious Trousers

Hello Poetry Lovers

We visit the poetry wardrobe again in a nostalgic fashion (geddit!) The wonderful, clever and beautiful Trisha Broomfield sweeps us up with nostalgia and wistfulness in this amazing piece.

Thank you, Trisha, these are such detailed words that will strike a chord in all of us. Even Mrs Slagg became misty-eyed. Do read on;

Shorts, Skirts and Serious Trousers

I don’t wear shorts,

inherited my father’s knees,

dresses likewise, see above

but I do flirt with skirts,

hems, sweeping the floor

of course, while in my mind

I swan around in flares

like a long-legged Charlie’s Angel

70’s style, I was Sabrina.

I dream of the mini skirts of my youth

plan my autumn purchases,

thick tights, a skirt to cover my bum

just, thigh length boots, in serious suede

but never comes the day.

I swish around in trousers

wide-legged, baggy

imagining I’m Lauren Bacall

I always admired a woman with balls.

Trisha Broomfield 2021

Wasn’t that just fabulous?! Sabrina, eh? Memories of watching Charlie’s Angels in the summer of ‘77 flood back. Thank you, Trisha, a joy to read. Keep them coming…

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

It’s here at last…..

Hello Poetry Lovers

Well, Summer has been a fashionable latecomer this year, but better late than never…

The lovely clever poet, Sharron Green has penned this beautiful piece Suddenly Summer which captures so many images and senses that this season has (finally ) brought. Thank you so much, Sharron.

Do read on…

Suddenly Summer

Suddenly summer unfurled her

warm rays,

reached through the torrent of

rainy grey days.

Nature so vibrant from weeks on

the lash,

scurried to showcase its

burgeoning stash

Humans who’d hunkered in forced hibernation,

skipped from the shadows with joy

and elation.

Smiles on their faces their skin out

on show,

cleansed and refreshed by the sun’s

healthy glow.

Meanwhile the bees buzzed from

blossom to bloom,

making the most of a break from

the gloom.

Rhymes_n_roses 2021

Wasn’t that beautiful?! Keep them coming, Sharron. Thank you so much. I pictured so much with that lovely piece.

Thanks for looking in, Poetry Lovers, and any pieces on this warm season are welcome.

Tune in real soon, same time, same channel…..

The Poetry Shop

Welcome, Poetry Lovers, to our new poetry emporium. Opening up bang next door to the Slagg’s Cafe, you’ll find everything you want in here! Even Mrs Slagg’s given it the Thumbs Up

As long as you buy one of her tea’s after, that is.

This fine emporium offers a vast array of poetry forms for the uninspired poet.

Be inspired by our bargain buckets

One to one consultations on the prompt poem

Or that timeless classic, the Diminishing Verse

Even Dobby’s in on the act, promoting her editing business.

Visit us now – two minutes from this theatre….

Thanks for tuning in, Poetry Lovers, and I look forward to seeing you real soon.

Poetry Handbag

Hello Poetry Lovers

Welcome to the Poetry Handbag. These bags are such a part of our lives that I think they should be featured. They are as close to our hearts as our written poems, and their contents contain so much of us.

The clever and wonderful poet, Trisha Broomfield, has penned a very poignant piece about these vital accessories and the handbags she has loved and lost. Don’t we all remember them? And ones that were not gained at all.

Do read on, it’s a lovely piece

Handbag Regrets

There was the tan bag my mum offered me but I declined

the real croc, snappy clasp, offered by an elderly aunt

but I declined

the suede patchwork with fringes

left that in the seventies

along with the long strap shoulder bag

with the Watney’s Red Barrel key ring

dangling from its tarnished loop

left behind too,

then there were the ‘I love the colour’ bags

the ‘go with everything’ bags

that never went with anything bags

the Italian bags bought with Lire

proper leather, brought out for ‘meetings’,

Zoom doesn’t call for handbags,

the summer white bag containing

a tiny purse

of your ashes

donated

too late, I remembered.

Trisha Broomfield 6th April 2021

Wasn’t that such a beautiful piece?! Stirring so many memories and ending with that sadness and loss. I often mourn the handbags of yesteryear. They still have the power to haunt you.

Any pieces bag-related are most welcome.

Thanks for tuning in, PL’s Watch this space for more poetry adventures.