June Challenge

I have written previously about my poetry group, which for obvious reasons is unable to meet at the moment. We share poems by email and have also enjoyed several challenges. The latest one is to write a Limerick; Love it! Limericks are my forte, I have enjoyed reading and writing them since childhood. So I put on my thinking cap and was soon on a roll.

Some time ago I had challenged myself to write one about Limerick (the place in Ireland) to rhyme it with Giggleswick (a village in Yorkshire) but gave it up as a bad job. I revived this idea and came up with the following:

A lorry driver came over from Limerick
to deliver a load up to Giggleswick.
The lorry got stuck
in a big pile of muck.
Thereafter it did rather stink a bit!

Being a cyclist of course I had to write one about cycling:

An elderly cyclist called Mike
wobbled and fell off his bike.
His daughter then frowned,
helped him up off the ground
sighing 'For goodness sake Dad, get a trike'.

But I didn't stop there:

By the light of a September moon
a young couple with romance did swoon.
Not long after that the
young lady got fatter.
The babe was born sometime in June.

Naughty! I think I'd better raise the tone:

St. Solomon's Sunday School choir
for sublimeness was told to aspire.
Their candlelit recital
was simply delightful
until all the hymn books caught fire.

There's more, but I'll share them next time!

First Frost

Pale moon shows her face
in the early morning light.
Icy moonbeams linger on the lawn.
First frost.


David's EclipseA cold spring morning
sitting in the garden,
wearing coat and gloves,
watching the moon pass over the sun
through double thickness black glass.




* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Photo taken on Orkney by my cousin David. I failed to get any although we had a good view)

Winter Trees

“A liquid moon moves gently among the long branches.
Having thus prepared their buds against a sure winter
the wise trees stand sleeping in the cold.”

This quotation is from ‘Winter Trees’ by William Carlos Williams

Morning Moon

Morning moon,
trapped in the tree,
crumpled, misshapen,
cannot break free —
pearly balloon.

Early Afternoon

Early afternoon
and half a moon peeps out
between the branches of the ash tree.

Pumpkin Moon

Pumpkin moon,
features clearly seen,
etched ready for Halloween
just a day or two too soon.


A ghostly shadow of its night-time glory
the half-moon peeps out
through a gauzy veil of clouds
and shyly greets the morning sun.


The full moon with its owlish halo
brings to mind Balor,
he of the baleful eye.
I draw the curtains – just in case.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In Irish Mythology Balor is the one-eyed god of death. So dreadful was this one eye that he destroyed whoever he looked upon. His eyelid was so heavy it had to be levered up by four servants.

Last Night

Last night the moon came close,
smiling, to greet the spring.

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