ponderous poetry for the hoi polloi

Ell’s Bells

Boy, those male escorts never chip in for rent.


You’re the toffee apple of my eye,

Crystal iris,


Manning the wheel in that woeful sky,

How blessed I am to be by your side.


You’re my milkweed butterfly,

Stained glass window,

Glacial spy,

With looking glass wings fresh from Versailles,

How blessed I am to be by your side.


Yes, you’re my polysaccharide,


Half bottle of rye,

But enough to make me pumpkin pie-eyed,

How blessed I am to be by your side.


You’re even my silver iodide,

For every cloud

Has a silver line, in

Case you didn’t hear me first time,

How blessed I am to be by your side.


You’re the saint that drives my tides,

Roman goddess,

The sunshine’s bride,

Games divine without design

And how blessed I am to be,


By your


Ten Pin Rolling

Rolling, rolling, rolling…

Such is my brain with every kiss,

It sits,

Like a pear drop in your mouth,

Revolving, dissolving,

Turning your tongue to litmus paper,

Oh pray I pass the acid test!


Rolling, rolling, rolling…

Such is my heart with every word,

No matter how absurd,

You’re the circus artiste and acrobat

Who trained a cobra to tango,

So telepathic, allopathic,

All-inclusive pleasure!


Rolling, rolling, rolling…

Such are my eyes with every look,

That ocular grappling hook,

And how thankful I am for the


Dear pinball wizardess,

Take my whites for a spin!



Rolling, rolling, rolling…

Such is my spine with every touch,

Don’t stray too much,

Just tell me what’s on the agenda?

Costal jenga?

Coastal splendour,

Spend a little time with me,


And we can keep rolling, rolling, rolling…


Lotus biscuit spread is not to be scoffed at.


Billy Bread Basket,

Basket case, fruitcake,

For him life was a loaf too far,

With a disposition as weak as red top milk,

And a haircut most bizarre!


Billy Bread Basket,

Basket case, fruitcake,

As mad as a custard tart,

With the visual perception of a star-nosed mole,

As pleasant as a periungual wart!


Billy Bread Basket,

Basket case, fruitcake,

Forever crying through his sausage roll,

And boy did he need his bran checking,

If not his heart and soul!


Billy Bread Basket,

Basket case, fruitcake,

The neediest baker around,

With nowt but a recalcitrant bottom lip for company,

And a mouth like a burial ground!


But now Billy Bread Basket,

Basket case, casket base,

Based beneath a fruit-less-cake seal,

More loaves than loved ones, more sugar than sense,

Oh may he rest in piecemeal!



With every closed-eye hallucination I endure,

My love for you, and your love for me

Becomes ever more


Something to whet the palette

I’ll make you as red

As the blushing fruits of a

Summer pudding,

Sweet berry bonanza,

A seasonal answer,

And cure for your wintery heart.



I’ll make you as orange

As a wee dram of


Oh so boozy woozy,

My marmalade jacuzzi,

Still turning my mind to jam.


Oh yes!

I’ll make you as yellow

As the rubber ducky in my

Bath, ye

Sexy soapsuds-surfer,

Wave-crashing big bertha,

How’s it bedtime already?


Yes! Yes!

I’ll make you as green

As the sour apples in my


Hard-boiled satisfaction,

Sharp-witted distraction,

And caustic cause for content.



I’ll make you as black

As my mid-morning


Eager-eyed eight ball,

That jet-threaded waterfall,

And saviour of my weary mind.


But no!

I’ll make you as white

As the snow in my


This frosty reception,

Nowt more than deception,

When your kisses still give me warmth.


And since I know that these colours

Are better suited to you,

I promise, my love,

Never to make you feel blue.



If only I could fix,

With a kiss

From these lips,

That crack in your frangible heart.

The Night Owl

Who-o-o, who-o-o!



I’m a night owl,

No need to lark about,

That featherbrained flyer and midnight-cryer,

Call it agitated depression?

Or a major obsession?

For me it’s more than a

Moonlight requisition,

Oh she can’t come soon enough!


So call me a madman, a crazy, a

Lunatic… tock… tick… tock on the

Midnight clock,

I’m that odd sock,

Sending love letters by semaphore to the

Crystal rock,

With frantic arms and

Lips on lock,

But still the clock goes

Tock… tick… tock…


Who-o-o, who-o-o!

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