I need to buy a jacket,
So sought my wife’s advice.
She kindly agreed to accompany me,
Which I thought was terribly nice.
It only took four hours,
With all the following bagged:
Two blouses, some pants,
One ‘top’ and one dress.
Oh how my posture sagged.
Of jackets, nothing at all,
Nothing could I don.
I’ll do it tomorrow – on my own.
Oh no all my money has gone.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 18th, 2025 All rights reserved
I couldn’t do it anymore.
All silliness was drained.
Sobriety and seriousness
No longer was constrained.
It truly was a tragedy,
The ditty well run dry.
No wafts of whimsy wackiness
And waffle pie in sky.
So now I wear a daily frown
With concentrated scowls.
I stare up at the monthly moon
Emitting wolfy howls.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 5th, 2025 All rights reserved
My pumpkins rule the garden,
Taking over every space.
Spreading far and wide.
Of competition there’s no trace.
If only they had arms and legs
They’d form a mighty group.
And pretty soon they’d rule the world
And dine on human soup.
© Copyright Philip Barton, March 14th, 2026 All rights reserved
© Copyright RD Barton 24th March 2026. All rights reserved.
Did I ever tell you that I love you,
Cheese sandwich, with onions, when I’ve got ‘em.
That my love will always be true,
For you are the wind beneath my bottom.
© Copyright Philip Barton 1st July 2021. All rights reserved
All of the scribes in English
Can be found in a single book.
Every one ever written.
You simply have to look.
It saves a lot of library space,
And is only rarely changing.
That single book is the dictionary
And it just needs rearranging.
© Copyright Philip Barton, February 14th, 2026, All rights reserved
I need to get new spectacles
And have my hip replaced.
My back is sore and what is more,
My knee needs to be braced.
Arthritis strikes my fingers.
On one toe’s a big chilblain.
I’m overdue a hearing aid.
And possibly a brain.
© Copyright Philip Barton, February 25th, 2026, All rights reserved
Some lines are quite light-hearted,
Others dark and deep.
Some lines are prose uncharted,
And others rather cheap.
Some hang out – just let it be,
With casual incoherence.
Some thrust themselves upon me
With a tawdry, dank appearance.
I sometimes have to beat a word
To force a line in shape.
And sometimes when it gets absurd
I simply sit and gape.
© Copyright Philip Barton, July 10th, 2019. All rights reserved.
It’s International Naughty Day.
We do things reprehensible.
A ditty deed to do dis day,
Is write one that is sensible.
© Copyright Philip Barton, December 21st, 2020. All rights reserved
