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How Now, Brown Cow? How now, brown cow, can you engage a don On science or linguistics, or fine art, While grazing, if the land your paths crossed on No longer is low-rent, and herds depart? Old farts who trim the budget just don't get What cows bequeath to learning. Wouldn't it Behoove them to assess how you abet Researchers when your soulful looks permit Original world views to flourish, and Why thoughtful moos from you to pensive dons Nudge progress forward more than cowless land? ... Cash cow need not mean beef—beside the swans On River Cam, it means inspiring profs Who like to ruminate by cattle troughs! (First published on 9th December, 2024 in Oddball Magazine. Story here) |
It's Just Bananas If you're the top banana, watch your back! The number two is eyeing up your spot, Supporting you, but hoping you'll soon lack Job tenure. They are apt to slyly plot Unseating you with messages in code: Suppose the date implies it's number two That's dumping peeled bananas by the road? Beestonians look vainly for a clue About the purpose of bananas as Nocturnal drops, yet what if they convey A message that the top banana has No skin, that you're exposed? ... Your choice: to weigh An instant resignation's merits—or, Stay cool: it's just bananas, just ignore! (First published in the Spring-Summer 2025 issue of Rat's Ass Review. Story here) |
Park Away From Me Please, Chimney Sweep, don't park your sooty van At my front door when sweeping out my flue: Remain as incognito as you can. Keep mum about particulates I spew. A Brighton Council ad campaign upbraids Wood-burning stoves for dirtying clean air, And if folks learned I'm burning wood in spades, You'd cause embarrassment beyond repair For me—I beg you, park away from me ... Relax. No sweat. I'll paint my van: the phrase "Orchestral Coach" will blot out "Sweep" and be My cover, this old tuba case conveys My tools ... and you must sound this tuba—or, Embarrassment may threaten like before! (First published in Light on 27th January, 2025 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |
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Peter Mandelson Perhaps I didn't mean to say the prez Endangers Earth by spouting reckless views— There must be more to what this bully says, Endearing him to viewers of Fox News. Remarks made then are wrong now, and ill-judged: My duty is to grovel on the floor, Announcing he's fair-minded, he's begrudged No more, and even consequential for Diplomacy between our countries. His Extraordinary mandate means I must Learn fresh respect for MAGA-friendly biz, Suck up to him on-air, and earn his trust On everything ... till, in my memoirs, I Need not deny that Trump's a nutjob guy! (First published in Light on 3rd February, 2025 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |
Can't Hang On To It Chinese economists are poised to stop An ageing China going off the rails, Not riding trains enough when grey on top To spend their savings on them—ticket sales Have plummeted. These old folk, with their stash And time aplenty, are about to be Nudged firmly to expend their hoarded cash Glut to restart a stalled economy Of travel: charging fees to be agreed, New 'silver trains' will pamper golden years Through geriatric healthcare at high speed On cars that calm all old folks' travel fears ... It spends their wealth before they have moved on— They can't hang on to it when they are gone! (First published in the Summer 2025 issue of Road Not Taken. Story here) |
Everyone Must Go! Enticing more Australians to buy Vacations in New Zealand, as a must Experience to have before you die, Requires a catchy slogan you can trust Your natives not to ridicule and razz On-air or otherwise. And yet (it's true!) New Zealand's answer to this challenge has Epitomized how not to ballyhoo Majestic landscapes: "Everyone must go!" Unwowed by half a million dollars blown So dumbly, Kiwis want the state to know The slogan is tone-deaf ... Yet, could its tone Get Aussies so intrigued, they long to come On over, just to see who'd be so dumb? (First published in Light on 24th February, 2025 as one of the Poems of the Week. Story here) |