The chairs all have their jackets on
They’re ready for the park.
They exercise there regularly,
But never when it’s dark.
Gangs of tables roam there then,
Their long legs chill the night.
It scares the chairs to vacant stares
Though none admit to fright.
© Copyright Philip Barton, 13th May 2019. All rights reserved.
Famous or not,
Handsome or plain,
Whatever you’ve got,
Will be all gone again.
Whether rich or poor,
Short or tall,
History for sure
Soon forgets us all.
© Copyright Philip Barton 1st July 2021. All rights reserved.
He stood there on one leg and clapped,
A toothbrush in each ear
His ranting bilge betrayed a man
Whose thinking wasn’t clear.
“For God’s sake get a grip man.
What would your Mother say”?
The bathroom sage repentant said,
In a mortified dismay:
“No more will I be silly”;
And from that day on he changed.
He spent his days in politics,
Respectably deranged.
© Copyright Philip Barton 3rd April, 2019. All rights reserved.
I gazed in an expanding arc,
Observing more and more.
My eyeballs grew so weary
That they fell out on the floor.
© Copyright Philip Barton, June 13th, 2025. All rights reserved
I’m not a sentimental man
Who’s prone to wishful muse.
My feet are set firm on the ground
And clad in brown brogue shoes.
My head’s not high in wispy clouds,
With flair I’m never stricken.
I’m really rather nondescript,
Not like my frozen chicken.
She’s glamorous and witty,
Entertaining and well read.
Her many attributes
Include a very level head.
And though we are inseparable,
My feelings still I hide.
For whilst I’m full of love
I think she’s empty deep inside.
© Copyright Philip Barton February 8th, 2010. All rights reserved
They ran around in circles,
Five words without a head.
I collated and I conjugated,
Now they’re quite well read.
© Copyright Philip Barton 9th March 2017. All rights reserved.
Dropping words upon a page
And staring into space.
Feeling like a ditty sage
A man of wit and grace.
Life and love are trifled,
As I dally with my prose,
The finer points are stifled
As my nose just grows and grows.
© Copyright Philip Barton 11th October 2018. All rights reserved.
It came upon me suddenly,
And lunged straight for my throat.
I struggled with it manfully,
But on that valiant note,
It thrust its spotted face in mine,
And truth I will relate,
It had its wicked way with me
And I met a fruit-cake fate.
© Copyright Philip Barton, 3rd March 2019. All rights reserved.
A racing croc fell so far back
His body passed him by.
His problem was a lack
Of food because of short supply.
Reluctant as he was to fail
He lunged and there he fed
On legs and feet and trunk and tail
And now he’s just ahead.
© Copyright Philip Barton 12th February 2025. All rights reserved.
