Moths Flutter

Poetry in its use of rhythm, alliteration and rhyme and the art of the pause, was initially an aid to memory before literacy was widespread.  Content is also an aid but only if it lights a spark.  It is easy to memorise a rude or funny song lyric.
Modern, so called poetry, just does not get this. So-called free verse to me is not verse at all; it is prose. Some of it may be quite nice prose, but to call it poetry is to usurp the art form.
I no longer go to poetry groups. I do not want an explanation of a poem before it is spoken nor an analysis after. That is pretention. The work must speak for itself.
The earliest verses we know of tended to be narratives or prayers to deities. Later we get comedy and comedy can be hard. Yes comic verses and song lyrics are a very serious business. This I find so hard with my butterfly brain.


Moths Flutter

Moths flutter up to the light
And flames may cause their doom.
One night a moth went to such height
And fluttered to the moon.

It flitted all about the place,
It fluttered round about,
It landed on the moon man’s face;
You should have heard him shout!

“Oh, you gave me such a scare
Landing on my nose.
Pray, what were you doing there?”
But no moth ever knows.

Light seems to seep into their souls,
It causes them to yearn.
And they will leave their grassy knolls
And many of them burn.

Hypnotic light attracts them so,
They journey to its source.
That’s why the moon moth had to go.
Now could I fib? – of course!

© Trevor Morgan 2018


Bits and Pieces

Anyone who has served in the Royal Navy will know Jack has a dark sense of humour. Even death is there to be laughed at!

Bits and Pieces

Oh, his legs got blown off for Britain,
His arms for Albion’s Isle
As his head flew away,
Yes, I’ve heard men say,
It was wearing his usual smile


There’s now little doubt
That’s his life had gone out
When all of his bits
Got splattered about

Yes, his head got blown off for Britain
Flew off for Albion’s Isle
As his chest split apart
It showed his big heart
And his entrails flopped out in a pile


But what had his death done for Britain
Now he’s gone and forgotten
And his bones and his spine
Lay bleached in sunshine
Politicians are still just as rotten


But his passing was put in the log
Noted with emphasis due
It said “he’s heroic”
His mates are more stoic
For a long time they’ve been left to rue


His life was given for Britain
He died for Albion’s Isle
Yet while Tom’s torn to shreds
Leaders die in their beds
No matter how bad or how vile


©Trevor Morgan 31August 2003

Slime and Grime

Ah, life, it’s always throwing up chores for us!

Slime and Grime

It’s oozing here with slime and grime,
The worst place I’ve been yet.
It’s damp and stinky all the time,
Right here I’m rather wet.

I bet that I could fight this fight
With stink and stench right here.
I bet that I would not take flight,
Run screaming out in fear.

Yes, its oozing here with grime and slime,
But it’s worth getting wet,
Cos I will have a jolly time.
So, I’ll clean this bathroom yet!

©TM 30.04.17


Ah, committees they are such fun and so, so transparent…

Committee Ditty

Oh, we’re really nice people
And we sit on committee
‘Specially selected
‘Cos we don’t feel pity


Yes we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On tea and bickies day

Oh, we’re nice committee people
But we don’t like to question
‘Cos the Chair knows
We’re open to his every suggestion


Yes, we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On a free lunch day

Yes, we’re all committee people
And we’re ever so nice
‘Cos Chief Exec knows
Rubber stamping’s our vice


Yes , we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On wine tasting day

Yes, we’re Authority members
And we’re such a sham
We may well turn up
But we don’t give a damn


Yes, we’re nice committee people
And we’ve nothing to say
‘Cos we only turn up
On back-hander day

© Trevor Morgan 1985

The arsenic waltz

Had a great visit today to the National Trust property at Killerton in Devon.  This included a  display on the history of dyes. One display moved me to write this:

Green Dyes
In a display at Killerton there was a description of early green dyes. There was a problem with fixing green dyes so large amounts of arsenic were used. This could be interesting, or dangerous, or deadly consequences when the cloths were worn.

The Arsenic Waltz

Your dress is pure green
So your skin’s turning white
With blue lips – how they sheen
You’ll be dead by tonight

© T.Morgan



Cup of coffee

I must confess to a caffeine addiction.  I am down to two cups in the morning and an occasional espresso when out and about.  However not at any of the big chain coffee shops and tax dodgers.


Hot coffee for the slightly tired
May well soon turn the spirit up.
From slowing down to full hot wired
It’s all there in a steaming cup.

A Limerick for Lagarde

Now that Lagarde of the IMF has joined in on project Fear that is trying to scare us all into staying as a peripheral province in the European Empire of the Oligarchs. I am not moved to feel any fear.

The IMF that she runs has a track record on economic predictions. More often than not they are wrong. They did a good job with Greece and have ongoing works in progress in Portugal, Spain and Italy and have brought economic misery to lots of places in the impoverished third world. They have long been unfit for purpose.


A Limerick for Lagarde

The IMF has loudly now said
By leaving we will end all dead
In the past all their predictions proved wrong
Yet they harp on and sing this daft song
Poor Lagarde has gone quite off her head

King Lemming

It is easy to rush into things thinking you are able to make a difference. But not everything always works out all that well.

King Lemming

I met this lemming on the road
He had no fear of heights
And purposeful away he strode
To go and see great sights

The higher up you go you see
The furthest sights of all
On high cliffs here above the sea
That lemming met his fall

Acceleration’s quite a thing
As t’wards the beach you fly
That lemming felt just like a king
Yes, he knew how to die

There is a red smear on a rock
King like, he’d passed that way,
Whilst foolish peasants stand and mock
His was a glorious day

There’s glory in a steady rise
There’s glory in it all
As lemming’s rain down from the skies
– So all the great must fall!

6 December 2002







The Mighty Sultan

Some like to lead from the front but not all…

Featured image

The Mighty Sultan

Indolent Sultan of Egypt
Would like to be killing his foes
That’s when he wasn’t on the toilet
Or discretely blowin’ his nose.
He’d need a break for his breakfast,
Another for biscuits and tea.
He couldn’t do a jot when smokin’ his pot;
First things must come first – Don’t you see?
The hareem would give him more stress
As he slaved there by day and by night
And it caused him yet more distress
With all those wars there to fight.
DUTY it carries such burdens,
KINGS carry their burdens in style.
When hordes invaded his borders,
Invading right over the Nile,
He gave magnanimous orders,
He gave them with such a coy smile.
“The army must take ship upstream
And fight to the very last man
My duty’s here in the hareem
I’ll think of you whenever I can”

© T Morgan 1999