February 2022 version

Note: Due to being an Australian author I used UK English in this work.

Over the years I’ve written some poetry in response to posts in chat rooms and forums. Most weren’t worth keeping, but there are a few I felt were worth keeping and I’ve copied them here. I may add to this short list as time goes by, but I make no promises. The poetry I wrote to go with the Clan Amir stories are in the stories and also in a special posting just for them as part of that series.

https://storiesonline.net/s/54160/a-fighting-heritage-poetry

These are my own works, as against the poetry of my father which are in another post of their own under his name, which is the same as mine.

https://storiesonline.net/s/13822/poetry-of-ern-bywater

Poetic Pause

It was a late night dreary,
A writer sat down weary,
To answer a forum query,
He wasn’t feeling too cheery.

As he had a terrible cold,
And wasn’t feeling too bold,
A poem to write he was told,
Swearing hard he said, “Sold.”

“Now think,” he did say,
But no poem came his way,
His muse he could not sway,
And he sits there to this day.

Frozen in thought and deed,
As he tries to fulfil this need,
He has no idea of a poetic seed,
He’s stumped and stopped indeed.

The Dance of 100,000 volts

Jim shot him with the high voltage line,
One hundred thousand volts in the spine.
He jumped up in surprise and did a dance,
Rapidly around the room he did prance.

At the desk he grabbed the three five seven,
He aimed and opened fire on Jim Seven.
In rapid fire he did shoot, six rounds it took,
Very holey like Swiss cheese Jim now did look.

One hundred thousand volts in the spine.
He does rap, due to the power so sublime.
He looks at Holey Jim bleeding on the floor,
And he grins as he heads out the door.

The Cellar

What’s that creaking sound I hear?
Could that be a cellar trapdoor?
I’m sure that’s what I heard once before.
What’s that clicking sound growing near?
An enraged author with a spear.

Erotic Poetry

To be an erotica poet,
Doesn’t mean you screw it,
You don’t have to fuck it,
But you must actually do it.

Your horrid little rhyme,
Must be completed in time,
Or it’s terrible a crime,
So write your horrid slime.

Make a really bad stink,
To fill each line with a kink,
And a very useless link,
Well, what do you think?