Tag: poetry

Did you know I wrote a book?

Seems I wrote one…

4th of April last year I posted this.  I actually forgot about it mostly.  I sold quite a few copies and had some good reviews and am rather quite proud of it.  I’m currently working on some other things right now…but below is the original post…It is wholly inappropriate by the way.  In a good way!

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I have written before about why I started my blog.  For those who missed it one of the main reasons was due to a friend who’s wife, an aspiring writer and a vile human being, insisting that anyone that self publishes does so as an act of vanity which is probably why she had never been published and for the most part refused to work.  Writers retreats she enjoyed a plenty I believe.

Anyway, perhaps I ended up proving her point, but I suggested to my friend that I would from that day forth take up writing and publish a book before she did just to prove the point that surely it isn’t that hard and perhaps if she wasn’t such a horrible cow she might have achieved more.

Anyway, the result of that rant can now be found on Amazon in the form of my first book ‘A Collection of Inappropriate Limericks.  Its only 300 or so of my limericks but it’s something I guess.  Something I made that perhaps my grandkids will hold one day and ask “What the fuck was wrong with Grandad?”

Paperback out now with the E-book to follow on the twelfth mostly because I made a mistake setting it up and couldn’t work out how to remedy it.’

Oh and I dedicated it to her too.  Seemed only right.

Paperback in the UK is here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916089011

And in the US here

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1916089011

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UK E-Book can be preordered here for delivery on the 12th of April.

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07QF58TYM

The US E-Book is here

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QF58TYM

Who’d have thought it eh…

Thursday’s filthy limerick

One about a ladies cavernous front bum

A voluptuous temptress from Cuba

A vagina shaped quite like a tuba

And she would not delay

To allow you to play

Her, so wide was she, no need to lube her

Just work on the speed of that last line…it works I assure you .

Turning

Read the word ‘Fluctuate’ somewhere on my reader and it triggered this…

Between the tides he fluctuates

The stir of dreams, the love and hate

seems far too late a pause he takes

And break the silence, then to wait

But echo’s are all that returns

While soul it yearns and passion burns

Like fire, fierce, consumes and turns

Man into cinders, so he learns

To quell the cravings, quiet the hate

Embrace the now, love out of reach

And leaves but footsteps on the beach

Sunset

Words and more words and more words still…

Memories in monochrome, sweet youth now seems so far away

and slowly memories ebb and flow, sandcastles crumbling in the tide

And walls fall down she cannot hide

Heart’s windows closed, doors locked, inside

She waits, so frail, her mind to long lost days does stray

Remembering, those rainbow days

Grey swept away, bright lights so shine

And lovers limbs do sweet entwine

Once more taste embrace divine

And hand in hand he finds her there in summer’s perfumed haze.

And so he leads her, barefoot, laughing, youth restored

Down paths familiar painted through the years

In love and joy, devoid of fears

And through the door, there no more tears

At last she rests, home, much loved and adored

Forgetting

Blah blah Blah words

The brightness of the things that were

Like summer sun warm on the skin

Now shadows cast, and blind her gaze

And endless days to night give way

Until they set, horizons crimson

Set ablaze just one last time

No more remembers, dawn will come

Follows the embers, She remembers him no more

And light once more reveals her beauty

Safe in the warmth, new days embrace

A Limerick. On a Sunday. It is Sunday right?

February had 29 days, March 200 and April has 625. I have no idea what day or month it is to be honest…

This poor lad I know, self isolated

Spent his days watching porn, masturbated

Till his bits were quite raw

And his arms were real sore

And his balls were all red and inflated

Walls

Blah blah Blah words

I scratched your name into these walls

Of discontent, and love’s betrayal

And red raw, blood drips, slowly pools

Reflected, crimson, stained teeth bared

Wild eyes, I see your laughing face

These knuckles white, your cackles sharp

Like razors cut, pink flesh, clean through

Skin, muscles, sinew, fat and bone

Spilled violently with no regard

Your words, dark deeds, most ill intent

Until a shadow’s all that’s left

Which fades as light tries to caress

’till dark returns scars to embrace

Whisper

Blah blah Blah words

Cobwebs thick, paths overgrown with memories grey

and twisted boughs so old and gnarled

they lead the way and whispers call us on.

Shuffling slow through time as thick as mud

not looking back, accept our lot

And knowing, come to die.

For in that place I find you there

and one last time immersed in love

give all I have and know this race is run.

And on the wind and to the stars I’m lifted

To beyond and unto nothing I return

Well lived, well loved, content.

Your Tuesday limerick

It’s that time again

Once a virginal lassie from Bury

To her boyfriend she offered her cherry

“Damn wrong hole” she did cry

“You’re two inches too high!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, she replied “Very!”

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I had to do a wee but of research on this to get the imperial measurements as I am very much metric born and raised.   Oh and yes I know, position matters here in the general up and down of things. Look you’ll work it out I am sure…Now my browser needs clearing.  See the lengths I go to for your limericky pleasure!

Now in the calm

Some rhymey stuff

These words, these thoughts, these in between

The lines, the sheets, the days and dreams

This place he finds her,madness screams

As nothing ever lasts.

Each syllable twists in the wind

Words whisked away, she cant rescind

Or even hide where they have sinned

And clings to hopes now dashed.

Forlorn until time heals and mends

To keep from harm the heart pretends

Until new starts warm cold dark ends

Their pain slips to the past.