Welcome to the Poetry section of my site. Here you’ll find poems nonsensical, whimsical, silly, and sometimes dark, too. Some are short, some are long. (I’ve provided line counts, so you’ll know what you’re getting into.)
Use the popup to sort the poems in various ways.
“What a curious thing,” said Alice
“One might easily lose one's balance,”
As she walked through the labyrinthine tangles
Of the sea-risen city's impossible angles...
The moon was bright
The breeze was light
As I stepped outside, that fateful night
And felt upon my neck the bite...
The Beast became a Beast by living too long alone
Not caring how his beard or his fingernails had grown...
Mr Was only was, never is
The was of the moment is his
The is never is, because
Then is the now of Mr Was...
My father had a night-black suit
With a night-black tie up to his throat
And gloves so dark, when they were on
You wondered where his hands had gone...
Day or night
You’ll feel his bite
He’s always out, dispensing fright...
Now alle is DEAD withinne me, and the attick dust is still,
And old moth huskes lye crumbling on the warped woode of the sill...
He came down the road like a roistering riot
Now forwards, now backwards, as though just to try it...
The Devil had a mobile phone
He called me up on it
He said, “D’you wanna make a deal?”
I said I’d sleep on it...
Robot wrote a novel
All in ones and zeroes
Humans were the villains
Robots were the heroes...
The Existential Agent has a gadget and a gizmo
The Existential Agent has the low-down and the info...
They had an Indifferent Beast at the zoo
It was furry and spiny and somewhat scaly, too...
Wish I could be a witch
Real old-hag-cackling bitch
I’d cast me a spell
That’d summon up hell...
Dr von Brain
Said “I’m not insane!
“It’s all the other scientists who are far too tame!”
It's easy to summon a demon
You'll need paper, a pencil, and something to lean on...
I sometimes sit and wonder
At all this useless plunder
I’ll maybe dig myself a pit
And bury it...
They wondered why Toby was always so cold
He was only, they calculated, five years old...
Doctor Freud, oh Doctor Freud
How is it I can avoid
Lustful thoughts and such distractions
Leading me to shameful actions?...
I want to be on the moon.
Just me, on my own.
Three hundred and eighty four thousand miles
From any pair of human eyes...
Teach Yourself Terror! the book’s cover said:
“How to be frightened of things not-quite-dead!”...