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Cried a luscious young lady from Dijon: ‘I don’t mind if you make eyes at me, John. If you say “Voulez vous?” With a smile and a moue I’ll answer demurely: “Mais oui, John.”‘

A knight-errant who hailed from the north To his squire said: ‘Go thaddle my horth.’ Though he spoke with a lisp, His orders were crisp, And the squire said ‘Yeth, Mathter, of courth.’

There was a young man from the West Who liked to go out underdressed. He’d call at the vicar’s Wearing nothing but knickers, A smile and a grubby string vest.

Thursday the twelfth day of May Is national limerick day. Let the poetical clique Pour scorn on the ‘rick: We who write ’em cry hip, hip hooray.

There was a young man from the East Who ate forty figs at a feast. He didn’t suspect That his tum would object But the poor chap’s now sadly deceased.

Well who’s the cat that got the cream? Ingénue Magazine has just given ‘Paw Prints in the Butter’ a most blush-making review. Here’s a sample: “As with all good writing, this collection of poems can be returned to and enjoyed … Continue reading →

Bird watching The seagull on the roof is a menace, And I hate the wood-pidge on the fenace. But blackbirds I love And the odd collared dove, Though damned if I know where the wren is.

While walking one day in the Bois Marianne and Jean-Paul went too far. Now she nurses the bébé Saying ruefully ‘Mébé I should have retained my sang froid.’

There’s a fine seaside town called Collioure Where a maiden exceedingly pure Met an ardent young swain Who’d come up from Spain – And the rest of this story’s impure.

If you like reading short short fiction, or if you’d like to try your paw at it yourself, check out The Drabble at https://thedrabble.wordpress.com. They publish stories and poems of a strict maximum 100 words every day, straight to your … Continue reading →