D-Day

D-Day

They shall grow not old, 

For if they are frail,

They gave up their lives

The day they set sail

As we that are left grow old,

To you we salute you,

The bravery back then,

Now shown by so few,

Age shall not weary them,

Emotions still raw,

The freedom to be,

Walk safe out the door,

Nor the years condemn,

Remember bad acts,

The sacrifice given,

The horror and facts,

At the going down of the sun, 

Remember our friends,

The courage they showed,

Our thanks never ends,

And in the morning,

Each day when we wake,

For battles they won, 

We have and eat cake,

We will remember them,

At all times that we can,

Thank you for your service,

I am a free man.

Dear Future Wife

Dear Future Wife

Lay right down beside me,

And tell me your woes,

Together my love,

We shall beat your foes,

We’ll grow old together,

You’re part of my soul,

Heart still skips a beat,

And together we’re whole,

You know that I love you,

The same as I did,

Back all of those years,

When we were just kids,

All cute on the sofa,

I feel your chest rise,

The flicker of angels,

I see in your eyes,

To me you are perfect,

In spite of your flaws,

In love with you baby,

So kiss gaze and pause.

Charli's left big toe

Charli's left big toe

It’s Friday night people,

We’re out on the town,

Well some of us inside,

Behave like a clown,

And one of those people,

Is called CharliBob,

She’s had too much wine,

And become quite a knob,

She’s set me a challenge,

To write her some lines,

Her big toe the topic,

The left one defined,

We know that it’s painted,

And pink is the shade,

From status of robot,

I know she has strayed,

And now she is dancing,

She’s simply the best,

Controls all the men,

With her lovely chest.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

Snooker

Snooker

The green baize’s awaiting,

All neatly laid out,

Rob Walker announces,

The crowd starts to shout,

The twenty two balls,

All set to be played,

I wonder how big,

The breaks will be made,

And JV has told us,

There’s always a gap,

So careful now Ronnie,

It just needs a tap,

He’s high on the blue,

Goes into the pack,

And gets a nice split,

Soon back to the black,

The whispers of Dennis,

I like him the best,

The next shot’s a tough one,

He will need the rest,

This sport is my favourite,

It brings me much joy,

With Hazel, the boys,

Settle down and enjoy.

Kittens

Kittens

Producing lots of ooh’s and aah’s,

They really are so sweet,

The kittens of the internet,

For us they are a treat,

To have your own and see them play,

It’s really very nice,

But not so much when they bring you,

Some manky dead old mice,

I don’t know what they’re feeding you,

It’s probably not your fault,

You’ll always be a smelly cat,

But less so when you malt,

They’ll give you so much love and joy,

And ask for little back,

Except first thing when morning comes,

They need their stroke and snack,

These tiny cats that are so cute,

And usually really daft,

Cos kittens I will always love,

For many times I’ve laughed.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

International Space Station

International Space Station

To gaze up high into night skies

Wait for the dot to fill my eyes

I’ve checked online to know the time

And look out west, begins its climb

Perched neatly by the window up

Two thirty miles it’s that close-up

I wave at them do they wave too?

In 90 mins again they’re due

What’s going on up there right now?

I’m sure it starts with the word “Wow”

This small bright light in the night sky

‘Til next time guys I shall say bye

Explanation

If you ever watch the International Space Station go over your house, you'll (hopefully) relate to this poem.

Xylophones

Xylophones

This guy called David Angell,

He came to challenge me,

A poem about xylophones,

From me he wants to see,

It’s quite a funny sounding word,

Big scrabble points be found,

And did you know it comes from Greek,

The words mean wooden sound,

They’re known for being played so well,

Sir Patrick Moore was right,

To make sure he did play it lots,

When not on sky at night,

This is a quirky instrument,

And plays a funky tune,

Do hope this poem pleases you,

I feel like quite a loon.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

Cream cakes

Cream cakes

I think that it’s time,

To have an affair,

For that I shall choose

This chocolate eclair,

A white sticky cream,

In front of my eyes,

This long day I’ve had,

Sure likes this surprise,

It’s best when it’s sweet,

And is oh so gooey,

It melts in the mouth,

It’s not at all chewy,

This cute little snack,

It hits the right spot,

Though must brush my teeth,

Don’t want them to rot,

I have a sweet tooth,

That is clear to see,

Gives thanks to this cake,

My stomach’s in glee.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

Dreaming of love

Dreaming of love

To sit in close our eyes are locked,

A moment in this chair,

And I’m so glad that I am with you,

This closeness that we share,

To write a little note to you,

And place it in your coat,

So when you read it there’s no doubt,

On you I sure do dote,

You text me when you’re feeling sad,

You know I will respond,

To cheer you up and make you smile,

We have this special bond,

And when I know you’re coming round,

Can’t wait to hold your hand,

I tell you in my Yorkshire voice,

You’re looking rather grand,

I hope that I’ll grow old with you,

And share a lot of things,

To say our vows a special day,

The giving of the rings.

The beautiful game

The beautiful game

There’s ninety full minutes,

Plus some extra time,

And twenty two players,

Ball-skills some sublime,

To chase that round thing,

The length of the pitch,

For those who do well,

Become rather rich,

The ball in the box,

Swinged so swiftly in,

But was it off-side?,

Will it be a win?,

Defence and attack,

Down left and right wing,

To come silverware,

This season shall bring,

The cheering and shouting,

The passion so clear,

This all comes around,

From one little sphere.