Women are quite delicate
With easily broken dreams.
When you need to make amends,
The solution, so it seems,
Is a warm, romantic gesture,
So buy a bunch of flours.
Plain and rye will guarantee you
Many silent hours.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 23rd, 2025, All rights reserved
A humble soul,
With one foot in the hole,
Just gusting along on life’s breeze.
Though his body is spent,
He’s getting it sent,
To cryogenically freeze.
© Copyright Philip Barton, April 9th 2019. All rights reserved
Elbows were a useful tool
In human evolution.
For drinking beer and thinking
They were quite a revolution.
© Copyright Philip Barton, January 4th, 2019. All rights reserved
One day I’ll put some trousers on
And be like other men.
My head held high, with steely eye,
And every now and then
I’ll really be quite sensible
And walk with measured tread.
I’ll give up being silly,
And I’ll play my uke instead.
© Copyright Philip Barton, 12th March 2001. All rights reserved.
A high-brow chap of low-down means,
Lived off books and discount beans.
He gazed on life from down his nose,
While spouting prim and flowery prose.
He thought himself quite worldly-wise.
Well-bred, well-read, with piercing eyes.
An outcast, though he never sinned.
Those cheap beans gave him dreadful wind.
© Copyright Philip Barton, January 17th, 2026, All rights reserved
I sit on my own
In a small mountain house,
In a dignified, elegant repose.
I’m shaping a bone,
It’s the spine of a mouse,
That I’m going to stick through my nose.
© Copyright Philip Barton 1st July 2021. All rights reserved.
Chairs and bottoms go together,
Especially when we’re sitting.
They make the day more comfortable
For crosswords, chess and knitting.
One chair per bottom would suffice,
But in this world of plenty,
There are many spare for everyone.
On average almost twenty.
So a Minister was assigned,
To head up Bottom Affairs.
He ensures posteriors
Have equal rights to chairs.
© Copyright Philip Barton, January 4th, 2026. All rights reserved
I woke up in the sunshine
With thoughts of toast and jam.
I sat quietly at the table,
That’s the sort of man I am.
I looked outside whilst eating,
Strange thoughts went through my head.
The sun went out behind a cloud
So I went back to bed.
© Copyright Philip Barton September 4th, 2002. All rights reserved.
I sit and ponder on a cloud
That floats on high above the crowd.
And though I’ve no wish to condemn,
I’m glad I’m not down there with them.
© Copyright Philip Barton December 15th 2006. All rights reserved.
