Sitting here at 3am,
A ditty in my head.
I really need to pull it out
And get back into bed.
But nothing is forthcoming,
It scampers vague and fleeting.
Toying with my artistry,
Emerging then retreating.
Ah, here it is at last.
Oh no, now it’s gone once more.
It fell out of my nose
And now I’ve lost it on the floor.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 3rd, 2025. All rights reserved
I’m going to change my ways,
Assert myself – be bold.
Push out beyond the limits,
Before I get too old.
I’ll risk it all out on a limb
No venture is no gain.
I’ll be a man of certainty,
And take the risk of pain.
Decisiveness and strength of mind,
A forked road in my life.
When I’ve cooked the dinner,
I’ll run it past my wife.
© Copyright Philip Barton, June 28th, 2025. All rights reserved
Keep one foot on each leg,
And then you’ll know just where you stand.
With one arm on each shoulder,
You’ll be there to lend a hand.
But be careful with those hands
As they can sap a real man’s strength.
Total trust is ill-advised,
So keep them at arm’s length.
© Copyright Philip Barton, June 27th, 2025. All Rights Reserved
It all began with chewing gum,
Stuck behind his ears.
The implications grew profound
Before too many years.
He had one ear lobe pierced,
To be used for toothpick storing.
It appealed to intellectuals,
Not the dull and frankly boring.
Next the other ear lobe
Saw hangers on display.
Spare shirts and jackets hung there.
In a smart yet casual way.
And soon it all went viral,
Beyond his friends and peers.
A new trend swirled around the world
For Botox enhanced ears. © Copyright Philip Barton, June 22nd, 2025. All Rights Reserved
Lonely on the page it sat,
A ditty lacking peal.
No one laughed
Till ditty read,
Trump’s ‘Art of the Deal’.
Now he is a winner,
Not a ditty ignoramus.
He moves and grooves
As it behooves
One mingling with the famous.
Invites come from everywhere,
A PA works the phone.
He puts his feet up
On the desk,
A ditty in the zone.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 3rd, 2025. All rights reserved
There’s too much nonsense written,
About nothing much at all.
Just jibber-jabber,
Constant blabber,
Waiting for the call.
It’s never going to come of course,
For scribble that’s not smart.
Like non-essential,
Low potential
Rhymes that end in fart.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 19th, 2025. All rights reserved
Left Right, Right Left,
They marched off to the war.
It took three years to get there,
For the combat Waltzing Corps.
They moved with grace and style
As they pranced along the route.
They were hard to beat
As a dance elite,
And difficult to shoot.
© Copyright Philip Barton, August 12th, 2025. All rights reserved
Those intrepid ditty writers,
That trio known as I,
Sought succour at the ditty well,
But it was emptied out and dry.
Can it ever fill again,
Will flowers always bloom?
Will birdsong peal at dawn each day,
Is life just womb to tomb?
For now the ditty canvas,
On which I scribe my whimsy,
Has wildlife there.
It’s gristly bare.
Art’s pinnacle is flimsy.
© Copyright Philip Barton, August 4th, 2025. All rights reserved
Sleeping feet should be above,
The level of your head.
The blood, that way,
In brain will stay,
And you won’t wake up dead.
Raise your hands up high
For even better circulation.
Though hard to sleep,
In blood knee deep,
It’s worth a small ovation.
© Copyright Philip Barton, August 16th, 2025. All rights reserved