Author name: Philip Barton

If you find yourself liking this nonsense,

Counselling can be arranged.

We have experts in the nitty-ditty

Of the deluded and deranged.

 

©  Copyright Philip Barton, June 14th, 2025 All rights reserved

When your name’s in the newsagent’s window,

And life seems a little uncharted.

When you’re feeling quite peaky,

And hippy-type freaky,

It could be you’ve joined the departed.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton 8th May 2018. All rights reserved.

Posh ditty had a haughty pose,

And sneered from up on high.

He scanned the world beneath his nose

With one disdainful eye.

Another eye was closely kept

Upon his nosey ears.

The eye that watched behind his back

Was one eye in arrears.

 

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, July 2nd, 2025 All rights reserved

A quiet room for contemplation,

Of affairs of state.

Whoever else can save this nation,

From its dreadful fate?

And so I ponder, furrowed brow,

While sitting on the throne.

The strain is written on my face,

But I’m not one to moan.

And then I start to huff and puff,

Ears steaming, lips apart.

And finally, it eases out,

A wise, prophetic fart.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, June 27th, 2025 All Rights Reserved

She rang to find out where I was,

As we were due to meet.

I roll one eye and sigh,

Because I’m just above my feet.

I’ve been here since the day we met.

Her memory’s not good.

She really does tend to forget 

I’m always where I’m stood.

I send a photo of my feet

To try to jog her mind.

They’re almost size eleven,

So I’m not that hard to find.

 

 

© Copyright Philip Barton, January 25th, 2026  All rights reserved

A sock stood on the laundry floor,

It gave me quite a fright.

I forced it in the wash again,

And slammed the lid down tight.

These gangs of outlaw socks,

On who’s habits I’ll not dwell,

Make the world a scary place,

And leave a dreadful smell.

 

©  Copyright Philip Barton, January 30th, 2026 All rights reserved

Once long ago

I won a heart.

In a world that was young and enchanted.

Now I’ve done it again

But it’s different from then

Cause this time it’s been transplanted.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton 7th April 2019. All rights reserved.

The tiger bit into the boy,

Then in the air he sprung.

The boy ran off with joy

That day the tiger bit his tongue.

 

© Copyright Philip Barton. 18 May 2014 All rights reserved

That’s it, I cried in anger.

My fist slammed on the desk.

Intolerable is what it is,

Offensively grotesque.

Why seek to scale the giddy heights?

Why work to lift mankind?

Why be ignored, my spirit gored,

My nobleness declined?

A slight upon the artistry

Of a witty ditty wonder.

Pushed aside with dented pride.

A shameful Royal blunder. 

But next year may be different,

This setback, just a smidge.

A Knighthood’s surely coming,

So I mustn’t burn a bridge.

 

©  Copyright Philip Barton, July 5th, 2025, All rights reserved