Dobby climbs the number nine As usual looking for trouble And at other people’s misfortunes She will certainly chuckle! More Poetry Advent action tomorrow…….
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Dobby’s Advent VIII
Dobby bursts all the balloons because she’s that sort of cat! She can’t stand all this Christmas stuff. She thinks it’s a load of old tat! More Advent action tomorrow……
Dobby’s Advent VII
Today the seventh is opened By Octi, Dobby’s favourite squeaky siren Cat toys and Fish flock to her feet(s) but she’s going out with a toy called Brian! More Advent Action tomorrow!
Dobby’s Advent VI
No cat or fish today The Sixth sits there all alone Just shines in a radiant blue Waiting for their new iPhone More Advent Action tomorrow….
Dobby’s Advent V
Fish’s nippers take on the fifth Their names are George and Keith Who slide down its length and width then hide from Mother Fishe underneath! More Advent Action tomorrow!
Dobby’s Advent IV
It’s my birthday today Dobby demanded payment For giving me a box of Milk Tray When told No, she got impertinent! More Advent Action Tomorrow!
Dobby’s Advent III
Our loyal little town planner Fish today opens up the third Favouring fish flakes over turkey He finds Christmas dinner absurd More Advent Action tomorrow!
Dobby’s Advent II
The Second day of Advent and Dobby is already bored! She wants us to get her sardines As part of her Christmas hoard! More Advent Action Tomorrow!
At the End of Christmas Day
Hello Poetry Lovers Welcome back to another Yuletide Special. Today’s poem penned by the wonderful poet Heather Mary Sullivan still has the cynical theme running through these seasonal posts but it’s warm and hilarious. See how many memories flood back for you. It certainly took me back. Read on At the End of Christmas DayContinue reading “At the End of Christmas Day”
Yawntide
Hello Poetry Lovers I know! I know! We’re still in November but I couldn’t resist sneaking a Yuletide piece in here. Now, I’m sorry (or am I?) that its on the pessimistic side and I promise to write a more positive one shortly. However, the older we get, the less magical Christmas becomes. Perhaps becauseContinue reading “Yawntide”
Heather Moulson 