Little Jordan.

Once when playing in the sand,
Little Jordan found a hand.
She wondered who had left it there
Between the pier and Dad’s deck chair.
“A careless thing to leave behind,”
She thought, “but what a treasured find!”
A find that she had never seen,
An object that looked so serene.
She picked it up and walked down to
The violent sea in green and blue.
She placed it by the seaweed pile
And sat with it to wait a while.
She spoke with it about her folks,
And even told her favourite jokes.
At 4 o’clock she was called in,
She put her hand friend in the bin.
She looked at her dismembered friend,
No longer could she hold and tend
A littered limb in blue and black,
One day, she thought, she would come back
And find her small, five fingered friend.
She’d take it home to fix and mend
The hand she’d left there in the bin,
Discarded with a hopeful grin
And hopeful thought, in early June,
That she would come back someday soon.

Gregory William


Hey! There’re boobies in The Sun!

The woman’s right to vote was fought,
Equality at work was taught,
Women cried “we can’t be bought!”
But “Hey! There’re boobies in The Sun!”

The woman’s fight for birth control,
And woman’s right to score a goal,
And Thatcher won the PM poll!
But “Hey! There’re boobies in The Sun!”

They now control their family plan,
Their husbands, they are not less than,
It’s Fireperson now, not Fireman.
But “Hey! There’re boobies in The Sun!”

If women want just one thing, it’s
To draw in this battle of wits,
The only difference is their “bits”,
The bits they feature in The Sun.

I hope in future, nationwide,
We’ll all be on the same side,
And women aren’t objectified,
Like they are now in The Sun.

So please let’s sign, let’s not make fun,
Don’t let the fighting be undone,
The newest fight has just begun,
Let’s get Page 3 out of The Sun.

Gregory William.

If you agree that Page 3 is degrading to women then please take a look at the NoMorePage3 website and sign their petition.

Ladybird, Ladybird.

Ladybird, Ladybird.

Ladybird, Ladybird,
Don’t fly away,
Your spots are all pretty,
They brighten our day.

Ladybird, Ladybird,
Red, like a rose,
It tickles, so soft, when
You land on my nose.

Ladybird, Ladybird,
Is luck on your side?
Your spots count to seven,
My wishes you’ll guide.

Ladybird, Ladybird,
Where is your house?
Is your neighbour an earwig?
A spider? Or mouse?

Ladybird, Ladybird,
Are you my friend?
I know you can’t speak,
So I’ll just pretend.

Children, oh children,
What beautiful words,
I love your enjoyment
Of us ladybirds.

Children, oh children,
My spots don’t bring luck,
I flew through a mud fight,
And some of it stuck.

Children, oh children,
My neighbour’s a slug,
He’s grumpy and sticky,
But he’s just a bug.

Children, oh children,
I’m pleased you enjoy,
But stop calling me lady,
For I am a boy.

Gregory William.

The story of Jennifer and how she developed pagophobia.

There was a girl whose greatest vice,
Was to put her tongue on ice,
All kinds of ice, the girl did boast;
“Tastes better than a Sunday roast”.
She’d plant her tongue on ice cream cones,
The chill would echo through her bones.
“Ice cream cones?!” I hear you cry,
“That’s no more odd than you, or I!”
But wait, I beg you, listen up,
It does not stop at ice cream cup.
In to the kitchen she would stray,
With cravings with which she would play,
She’d open up the freezer door
Looking in and searching for
All kinds of frozen treats to lick
To get her odd sub-zero kick.
She’d reach inside and she would grab
Frozen chips, croquettes and crab,
Peas and carrots, she would chew
And lick them all ’til she was through.
Decisions made by Mum and Dad,
To help the constant crave she had,
Consisted of a ripe supply
(Enough to make a grown man cry)
Of ice cubes for their daughters tongue,
And into her mouth they were flung.
Did ice cubes help her craving? No!
She’d salivate at thought of snow!
Behind her parents back she’d lick
All kinds of nasty things like sick
All frozen on the bus stop floor,
Left by the drunks the night before.
She’d place her tongue on lamplight posts
(The place that she enjoyed the most).
The icicles found in the drain
Added to her parents pain,
In colder months, she’d snap them off
And suck on them, and chew and scoff!
Her parents knew she needed rinsing,
And though she needed some convincing,
In the coldest months of Winter Yule
They shipped her off to boarding school.
Whilst at school she learnt the art
Of baking bread and apple tart.
She learnt the facts of yesteryear;
She started to enjoy it here.
Her favourite class, as you will see
Was called Palaeontology.
In this class she grew to love
The dinosaurs that flew above,
And the ones that walked on land,
She thought the whole idea was grand.
So much so, in later life,
When she was Mother, and was wife,
Her favourite pastime was to dig
To find all fossils, small and big.
Her search took her to the North Pole,
Where she began an epic hole
To find some trace of old remains,
Exploring what the ice retains.
She dug and there found in the pit
(She couldn’t help but stare at it),
A wooly mammoth laying there!
With frost all matted in its hair!
It reminded her of how she was
Before she went to school because
The ice just glistened, shining bright,
The poor girl she began to fight
The urge to lick this frozen beast,
Her tongue would love it, what a feast!
Before she knew it she had placed
Her tongue upon the beast to taste
The icy goodness that it gave,
Enough to fulfil any crave.
But how unlucky was this chick,
Her tongue it had begun to stick!
She pulled and pulled but had no luck,
Her tongue had well and truly stuck.
The girl stood frozen, mouth attached,
The pain she felt could not be matched.
With one enormous pull once more,
The girl went crashing to the floor.
She sat there feeling slightly peeved,
But happy with what she’d achieved,
Until she noticed over there,
Her tongue still stuck to mammoth’s hair.
There was not much the Docs could do,
The girl was tongueless through and through.
And so she had to live her life,
As a Mother and a wife,
Paying her tongueless, tuneless cost,
All because she licked the frost.

Gregory William.

Reader beware. You’re sat in my chair.

Welcome. Bienvenue. How are you all?
I proclaim to an unfollowed blog.
I plan to be using this platform for voicing
My stories and thoughts, as a log.

You’ll find here the contents of thoughts that I’ve had
Whilst cleaning my house and my dentures.
Thoughts that develop and go some place silly,
With characters and their adventures.

There’ll be rhyming and rhythm that may be iambic,
And tales that are funny and gory,
But readers, I promise, if you are afraid,
There won’t beĀ much gore in my story.

I hope you enjoy what I have for you all,
And take something from these adventures,
Let me know what you think – please pull up a chair!
Oh and please, I don’t really have dentures.

Gregory William.