A poem in praise of Mrs. Pinder
O how you rose in your chair, pinned me with an aggrieved glare, in front of our grade-two class. Your august flesh pendulous with seriousness, my inner-ducklin...
Category: Humour
First time firing a shotgun – a kind of Sunday school poem
It’s Sunday and I’m reminded of the first time I fired a shotgun: single-barrel, old as a tree, and heavyas a weavers beam. The stock, cored-outand ...
The wisdom of Nick – the way of a song
His name was Nick and he had a face that by nature fit the stub end of a Churchill cigar. One of those broad round faces with thick features atop a largely abse...