Category Archives: Poems

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

As with many of my poems, this week’s offering is based on true events. I’ve recently started a new job within the same company that I worked for previously. This involves working across two sites and the events depicted in the poem you are about to read took place in the “other” site.

There’s not much else to say, except that I don’t do this stuff deliberately – it just happens!

Here is the poem – I hope you like it.

 

The Lamentable Lavatory Leakage

I’m sure that the fates work against me;

For my embarrassment and thwarting they conspire.

Herein lies a tale, of how life made me fail

Their weapon of choice? A hand drier.

Our story begins quite normally:

I was working in our office in Poole.

It’s a building we share with other firms there

And subsequently had communal loos.

The facilities are nothing fantastic:

Two urinals, two cubicles, two sinks.

A hand-drier on the wall, above a shelf thin and small

Which appears to be pointless – I think.

So, I was sat at my desk duly working

When unmistakably I heard nature’s call.

I nipped to the loo, and chose urinal number two

Because you don’t go for a pee in a stall.

Nature’s call was duly answered;

Once finished everything was tucked back inside.

But I was mistaken, having not properly shaken

And discovered that I’d pissed on my strides.

I looked at my trousers in horror

And – in the worst possible place – the damp patch

I could be in no doubt – I needed to dry out

So I searched for a plan I could hatch.

Immediately I spied the hand drier

Sat in glory above the small shelf.

With my damp patch of wee, halfway between my crotch and left knee

I approached to start drying myself.

It was now that I heard the fates laughing

And felt the grip of my icy cold fear.

I had not considered to think, that because of the sinks

To the hand-dried I couldn’t get near.

I could not stand directly before the hand-drier

Or get my dampness anywhere near the hot air

It was too high up the wall – I’m not that bloody tall

And I smelled the urine soaked whiff of despair.

Desperate times call for desperate measures;

Facing the abyss, I teetered on the brink.

At some risk to myself, I put my left leg on the shelf

And tried to kneel best I could on the sink.

This move was only partially successful,

But I could not taste victory yet.

I clung to the mirror and wall, for fear I might fall

So I could not adjust the driers directional jet.

Plus, I looked like I was humping the drier

Groin pressed against it, with both my legs splayed

To be found here like this, would be taking the piss

And I just wouldn’t know what to say.

I climbed down again, damp and smelly

Trying to work out just what to do next.

In that small tacky loo, there was nothing else to do:

So I purposefully whipped of my keks.

I stood there in my pants and without dignity

In odd socks with my trousers in hand.

At the start of my day, I certainly must say

That this situation wasn’t what I had planned.

But this was not the time to have hindsight

With the damp patch in position, I turned the drier on

I muttered and cursed that my day could not get any worse

Which is when Fate chose to prove me wrong.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened

And in walked not one man – but three

Who saw me at the drier in only four fifths of my attire

And a noticeable smell of wee.

To be honest I can’t say what next transpired;

I got dressed; and those men went elsewhere.

My work carried on, with the damp patch now gone

Though I did feel that everyone stared.

As always, there are lessons to be learned here:

Less haste more speed, is a phrase I recall

Plus, between you and me, when I now need a wee

To be safe I always sit in a stall!!

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU.

The Friday Poems Volume Two will be available to buy soon – it’s launched in early January 2019 so watch this space for more details!!

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi, and give me your feedback on my poems. Love them, or hate them – I want to know!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

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Hello! and welcome to this weeks Friday Poem, which is the 100th to be published on this blog.

Week to week, I don’t notice the time passing. My mind is focused on writing the poem, and doing all the work on my Instagram page. Did you know that I have an Instagram Page? You didn’t? Well why not pop over to Instagram and check it out? Each week on there, not only do I post my Friday Poem, but I also do a Throwback Thursday poem – which is a poem from my book, “The Friday Poems Volume One” which is available to buy in paperback or for Kindle from Amazon. My book contains the first 52 poems from my blog – one years worth, and at just £9.99 it’s great value (just 19p a poem). If you like this poem, you’ll like my book!

Anyway, as I said week to week I don’t notice the time passing. But reaching this milestone really brings into perspective just how much time and effort has gone in to writing these poems. I committed to write a poem each week, and have almost being doing that for two years straight. That’s on top of normal life and all it’s ups and downs that we all experience.

I have loved writing these poems. It’s been hard at times (quite often) to find the inspiration, but I’ve come to trust my instincts that something will come to me eventually. I’m just four poems away from being able to publish my second volume of poems (numbers 53 to 104), and see no reason to stop writing these poems each week.

I am however, also going to work hard to develop my bespoke poem writing service. I recently wrote and read a poem for someone at a wedding, and it was suggested by several guests and the wedding photographer that a bespoke poem would be a different take on the usual speeches that take place. So I’m going to branch out and see if I can get into the wedding market.

While I’m on the subject of bespoke poems, if you would like to discuss with me comissioning a bespoke poem for someone, why not use the contact form on the home page of this blog, or just email me at wisforduck@outlook.com. If you want to see examples of the comissioned poems I’ve written, visit the ‘Poetry Comissions’ page of this blog.

So, on to this week’s poem;  I’ve gone out on a limb here in trying something new in terms of writing a poem. I wrote the premise of this poem about a month ago after hearing another poet mention this topic in a poem he was reading. I then went to a writing group where the theme was writing conversation without saying “he said” etc. which gave me ideas as how to convey what was going on. The end result is what lies below – a conversation between two blokes, written in the form of a poem.

My heartfelt thanks to you and anyone who has read some, all, or just one of my poems. I’m grateful to you for taking the time to read my work.

Here’s this week’s poem: I hope you like it.

Conversation

“Dave, what are you going to do when you’re dead?”

Dave put down his coffee cup, and lifted his head.

“Wasn’t planning on doing much Steve, considering I’ll be deceased”

Then smiled – and the corners of his eyes creased.

“Well, I’m going to be blasted into space – saw a programme last night”

“What? You mean tied to a rocket like the tail of a kite?

Will it be just you, or others? Will there be a long line?

I expect there will be – too expensive to send up one at a time”

Steve frowned, and simultaneously held up one hand,

“You’ve misunderstood me – you don’t understand”

But Dave wasn’t listening, as perhaps he well aught,

“What happens on lift off, if you get your legs caught?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Caught on a gantry with your legs either side

You’ll get smacked in the privates and damage your….pride.

Or it could be even worse, you could damage your head

Mind you – it wouldn’t matter, cos you’re already dead”

“Dave, mate stop a second…”

But Dave wasn’t stopping, as thoughts thick and fast

Came now in succession like a Saturn V blast.

“Maybe they just stuff you into the cargo hold?

Mind you with rigamortis you’d be difficult to mould

It’d be hard to use all the space if you couldn’t be bent

So maybe they just lie you out end to end…?”

Steve watched in fascination, and growing concern

As Dave’s thought processes ingnited and furiously burned

“And then what? They just let you float away into space

Thousands of bodies all over the place?

But what if you don’t get high enough, and the earth is too near

The bodies might all get stuck in the atmosphere

Over time, if unchecked then they might block out the sun

The great space clump of grandads, aunties, nephews and mums.

Life on earth would be doomed with sunlight disappearing

And that’s when Steve snapped – he couldn’t take what he was hearing,

“SHUT UP YOU BERK! STOP GOING ON!!

You’ve made a mistake – you’ve got it all wrong!

When I die I’ll be cremated, and put into space

To be scattered to the stars – my last resting place.

I won’t be tied to a rocket or stuffed in the hold,

No body to damage, or try to mould.

Not stuck in the atmosphere, obscuring the sun

Just an urn full of ashes – no bother to no-one.

Anyway, it was just a stupid idea – from that show on TV”

Dave turned away and muttered,

“Was it on Channel Four?

“I’ll watch it on catch up, and find out some more”

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

Last Friday, while you were all enjoying my Friday poem, I was fortunate enough to be invited to the Wedding of a lovely female friend of mine who I used to work with. If that wasn’t special enough, I was then honoured to read a poem to the bride from her twin sister, who I had secretly collaborated with to write.  The poem was really well received with lots of happy tears. You can see the poem on the “Poetry Commissions” page of this blog, and I welcome your thoughts and comments. I’m proud to say that the poem I wrote was thought of as touching, funny, and beautiful.

This week’s offering, by stark contrast, is short and possibly a bit weird. However, in my opinion (as the bloke wot writ it), it has a beauty all its own.

What else is there to say, except – it’s a poem about a cheese sandwich.

I hope you like it.

 

Cheese Sandwich

 

Oh humble cheese sandwich,

I wish I spoke your language

Because, this isn’t what I planned – which

May come as a surprise.

 

I’d hoped to dress you with some pickle

A slice of ham, or even a little

Tasty dollop of some Chutney, but the

Cupboards were devoid of all such condiments

And thus, you are the consequence

Of my failing to adequately prepare.

How pitifully you lie there.

 

How can I try to make amends;

To minimise this gross offence

To you, and all that you could be?

I guess, if you think logically

The only option now it seems,

Is to eat you late – and have bad dreams.

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU.

The Friday Poems Volume Two will be available to buy soon – it’s launched in early January 2019 so watch this space for more details!!

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi, and give me your feedback on my poems. Love them, or hate them – I want to know!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

 

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

This week, I was spoiled for choice: I actually have three poems – well, two and a half – to chose from, having had a bit of a purple patch in my creativity. Usually my patches are bare, or at best…erm, patchy so I’m quietly pleased with myself.

There is no hidden meaning behind the inspiration for this poem. It simply came about as I thought about some of the sayings that we all know about what you shouldn’t do. I started with some familiar ones, and then went off on my own inimitable tangent.

So, here is this week’s poem.

I hope you like it.

(you should)

 

You Shouldn’t

You shouldn’t run with scissors;

You shouldn’t eat too much salt.

You shouldn’t set explosives off

On the San Andreas Fault.

 

You shouldn’t eat before swimming;

You shouldn’t play with knives.

You shouldn’t try to kill the cat

To test it’s got nine lives.

 

You shouldn’t lick raw chicken;

You shouldn’t eat yellow snow.

You shouldn’t give your credit card details

To people you don’t know.

 

You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover;

You shouldn’t talk with your fists.

You shouldn’t assume your whole damn life

That you’re the biggest fish.

 

You shouldn’t wear your clothes while you iron them;

You shouldn’t bite off more than you can chew.

You shouldn’t meddle in Genetics

To see if you can turn your skin blue.

 

You shouldn’t mix electricity with water;

You shouldn’t run a country for fun.

You shouldn’t believe the way to stop shootings

Is to give more people guns.

 

You shouldn’t be away with the Faeries;

You shouldn’t flee the scene of a crime.

You shouldn’t write more poetry than necessary

Just because you keep thinking up rhymes!

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU.

The Friday Poems Volume Two will be available to buy soon – it’s launched in early January 2019 so watch this space for more details!!

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi, and give me your feedback on my poems. Love them, or hate them – I want to know!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

 

 

 

 

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday Poem.

This poem is written tongue in cheek, but I reckon 50% of the population will connect with it more than the the other 50%.

Quite Simply, Men never actually grow up or mature. Subsequently, our brains and our thought processes don’t either. Women on the other hand, mature much faster than men, and have (in general) more empathy and constructive thought patterns. Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, and I in no way mean to stereotype anyone.

Except men. We just don’t think the same way women do.

Which is why we fear one question more than any: “What are you thinking?”. This question strikes terror into our souls, purely because 99.999999% of the time we are  thinking nothing but rubbish, or stuff a woman wouldn’t want to hear.

And so, this poem is for any man who has faced the horror of being asked what they are thinking.

If you have any thoughts about it, keep them to yourself.

Here it is: I hope you like it.

Don’t Ask Me What I’m Thinking

They say that communication is vital;
They’ll tell you it’s good to talk.
And whilst modern man is encouraged to share,
There are times when he can’t share his thoughts.

But it’s these times that women pick up on,
Like when out for a romantic meal.
And instead of enjoying what they’re eating,
They ruin it by asking us what we feel.

So don’t ask me what I am thinking;
Don’t ask me if I’m happy or sad.
Nothing good ever comes from that question,
But if you ask it, things will always go bad.

When you ask us that question, we panic:
It’s the one time we truly feel fear.
When you smile and say “What are you thinking?”
The first thing that comes to mind is “oh dear!”

How can I say that you’ve turned into your mother?
Oh that I think that our waitress is fit?
What’s a nice way to say your company is awful,
Without ending up getting hit?

I can’t tell you that I fancy your sister,
Or that relationship moved way too fast.
I can’t say that the blue skies I saw when I was single
Are now gloomily overcast.

Don’t make me say that I can’t stand you eating
Because of the noise that you make when you chew.
And the way that your eyes always glaze over,
Makes me think of one thing…… “Moooo”

You don’t want to hear that I’m wondering
What the score in the game is tonight.
Or whether moths are still attracted
To one of those long lasting eco-lights?

You know I’d do anything for you,
Put the trash out, and even have a go at cooking tea.
But please understand that in spite of my age,
My brain has only just turned three.

So don’t ask me what I am thinking:
Ask me anything else instead.
Because some questions just aren’t worth asking;
And some answers are just better not said.

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems 

posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

I welcome your thoughts and feedback on my poems and indeed my blog, so do please get in touch!

Hello, and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

This Sunday, the 11th November is Remembrance Sunday here in the UK, where we remember and honour the military and civilian servicemen and women involved in both world wars and all conflicts since. Plus, this Sunday marks exactly 100 years since the end of the 1914 – 1918 War – The “Great War”.

Like the vast majority of people here in the UK and around the world who will observe this commemoration, I will be wearing my Poppy. Poppy grew in the fields where the battles of  the two world wars were fought. They have come to be a symbol of remembrance.

This Poem is about why I wear my poppy. It is personal to me, and I do not assume any connection or influence to anyone else’s feelings or opinion.

I hope you like it.

 

I Wear My Poppy

 

I wear my poppy to remember.

I wear my poppy with pride.

I wear it for not just my nation’s fallen

But for all the souls who have died.

I do not hide behind it

Or use it to spread hate.

I wear it as a message

That I hope it’s not too late.

I hope we learn from the mistakes

That we made in the past.

One hundred years after The Great War

We are still on the same path.

So in your two minute silence

When we honour those who died

Serve them now, as they once served you

By vowing to turn this tide.

To the millions who made the sacrifice

In the name of my liberty

I can never repay the debt I owe,

But I make this vow to thee:

For the pain felt by those who lost you

For their sorrow, and their regret

I wear my Poppy to say “never again”

 

Lest we forget.

 

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

I welcome your thoughts and feedback on my poems and indeed my blog, so do please get in touch!

Thanks

 

 

Hello! and welcome to this week’s Friday poem.

I’ve said this before, and I will say it again – this is not the poem I had originally planned to appear this week.

Just two days ago, I had no Friday poem written, and was really struggling. Through a mixture of desperation, and frustration a few rhymes came together, which in turn developed into a Poem. However, it was born in a dark place, and I wasn’t comfortable with posting it.

That being said, it will appear as a Friday poem in due course – and you should be warned that the poem in question does not rhyme (gasps of shock from the audience). Non-rhyming poetry is unfamiliar territory for me, and I would even go as far as to say that I’m currently uncomfortable in using it.

Imagine my joy and surprise therefore, when the poem that I have chosen for this week also does not rhyme. This poem was born from two words uttered in conversation by a work colleague of mine that I met in a social situation last night (not a date). We were just having a conversation when he said what he did and WHAM! inspiration smashed through the doors of my brain, sat on the sofa of my creativity, put it’s feet up and then smacked me on the backside and said “get us a beer gorgeous!”. Within a minute of hearing two words I had the basis for the poem you are about to read – and by 9pm yesterday evening, after a rather peculiar but interesting conversation with a man in a purple velvet suit, I had all but finished the poem.

Readers should also be advised that the following poem is to be taken at face value. I take no responsibility for how little or how much readers “get” from it. I make no apology if you don’t get it, or even like it. I wasn’t sure of it at first, but the more I read it, the more I like it.

I’ve just read it again. Awesome.

This poem is short and to the point. What the point is, is for the reader to determine.

Or not.

Here it is: I hope you like it.

 

Rubber Chicken

 

You can hold a real Chicken,

But you can’t wield it.

That verb just doesn’t fit.

However, the moment the chicken becomes rubber

The holding it becomes wrong,

And wielding it is the only acceptable verb to use.

The fact the live Chicken can move about of its own accord

Makes it unwieldy – and automatically puts it in the same

Bracket as large domestic appliances.

The rubber Chicken on the other hand (if it was free)

Is now lumped in with axes, maces, and other weapons

Purely by being able to be wielded.

It might well be possible to brandish a rubber Chicken,

But only if it was broken with jagged edges.

 

Or on fire.

 

If you like this poem, You might also be interested to know that my book, ‘The Friday Poems – Volume One’ is now available to buy. This book contains all the Friday poems posted on my blog in 2017. You can get it from Amazon.com, wherever you are – in the UK from Amazon.co.uk in paperback by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/2tOvhA6 , or for Kindle by clicking here: http://amzn.eu/hbDIMdU

You can also find W is for Duck on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter – feel free to drop by and say hi!

Don’t forget that I offer a bespoke poem writing service – you can see examples of poems I have been commissioned to write on the ‘Poetry Commissions’ page of this blog. If you would like to find out more about how to commission a poem for someone, use the contact form on the ‘Home/About Me’ page

I welcome your thoughts and feedback on my poems and indeed my blog, so do please get in touch!

Thanks