Tag Archives: free verse

1163. Shakespeare, Milton, Keats are dead

Mae-Helene wrote poems every day. She wrote down the first thing that came into her head. She was a natural-born poet. She was also very modern. Free verse was not called free verse for nothing. Mae-Helene was a product and a rising star of the contemporary world.

Every day, and often several times a day, Mae-Helene would post her latest poems on her blog. She had countless followers. And then one day a fellow blogger gave her the “You-are-the-Sunshine-of-My-Life Award”. Mae-Helene was over the moon, and rightly so.

Once she had reached 100 poems on her blog, her uncle, Ned, who was both proud of her and rich, offered to pay to have her poems published in a book. It would be sold on Amazon, provided of course the cover didn’t show too much cleavage. Mae-Helene’s best friend from school-days designed the cover. It was a privilege.

At last, Mae-Helene had made it into the big time. There she was! The blurb said it all: Mae-Helene – award-winning, published author.

Poem 25: It would be awful


It would be awful to die on a Saturday.
There’s always sport on tele and
probably the mortician and her husband have gone to the races.

It would be awful to die on a Sunday.
Half the shops are shut and
probably the undertaker’s taken the day off and gone off.

It would be awful to die on a Monday.
The week’s just waking up and
probably the embalmer had to dash to town for more eye shadow.

It would be awful to die on a Tuesday.
It’s such a humdrum sort of day and
probably the sexton’s busy burying the crowd that croaked over the weekend.

It would be awful to die on a Wednesday.
It’s slap-bang midweek and
probably the hearse is out of action with a flat tire or a burned-out clutch.

It would be awful to die on a Thursday.
We always get take-a-ways then and
probably the morgue is chockablock with yesterday’s bodies.

It would be awful to die on a Friday.
It’s the day before the weekend and
probably the resident organist is having a few drinks to celebrate a profitable week.

As you can see, no day’s good for dying,
which is probably why I’m not that much looking forward to it.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

Poem 24: A great vowel shift for a friend who is poorly


It’s no fun being ill
And it can kill
Especially if you’re over the hill
But in this case I don’t think it will
Cos you’ll take your pill
Which is quite cool.

For where there’s a way there’s a wool
Especially if you take your pool
And keep relatively stool
And don’t drool
But have your fool
Of life and not charge around like a bill.

So get better soon, lill by lill,
Don’t be a dill
Remember – if you go through the mill
You come out as a flower.

Ind that’s pratty gud.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.