The Car Wouldn't Start
The car wouldn't start
What a pain, what a pain!
Though she turned the ignition
Again and again;
'I'm sure it must be
All the cold and the rain'
She said, as we sat there,
All waiting in vain.
Written Winter 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
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Crazy Tradesmen Rhymes No5
I once knew a drummer in the music trade
Famous for the strange
Set of drums that he played;
They were made out of rubber
And between you and me
His rolls were tremendous
And as easy as could be.
(Written Sept 2012)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Stripes
I'm not keen on the horizontal
I'd rather have the V;
The H is unattractive, no
The vertical's for me;
I speak of stripey clothing
In case you hadn't guessed;
And though I must repeat myself
The vertical's the best.
poem by John Carter Brown
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Crazy Tradesmen Rhymes No3
I once knew a man in the woodworking trade,
He was noted for the quality
Of furniture he made;
It was very fine stuff
But between you and me
To commission Mr Fission
There was far too high a fee.
Written Autumn 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Crazy Tradesmen Rhymes No2
I used to know a fellow in the farming trade,
You could always tell his chickens
By the eggs they laid;
They were small like him
And between you and me
You would have to buy a dozen
If you needed only three.
Written Autumn 1995
poem by John Carter Brown
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Lastic Bands
I'm sitting here tea in hand
Playing with a rubber band,
I pull and pull and then, Oh my!
It snaps and hits me in the eye,
I throw the blessed thing away
And vow with them, no more to play,
So make good use of idle hands
And DO NOT play with 'lastic bands.
(Written 1996)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Baking
One day I decided to bake me a cake,
To fulfil an ambition I had.
I had all the things I would need on a tray
And the recipe wrote on a pad.
But as soon as I started to mix up the stuff
Things began to go horribly wrong:
The pad it fell into the blender and made
The poor cake so incredibly strong.
(Written Feb 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Me
I don't 'belong' to anyone,
As far as I can see
I am an individual
And no one's property;
I won't be owned by anyone,
Nor will I bend the knee,
A servant not, no matter what,
Nor ever will I be;
I'm not in thrall to anyone,
My master, I will be,
A unique human being,
I'm John, and simply me.
(Written Sept 2012)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Coughs and Sneezes
I hate it when I sneeze, these days,
It lifts my fringe, my curls, my greys;
It blasts my ears and rattles my head,
But at least it gets me out of bed.
I hate it when I cough, these days,
It hurts my chest, my eyes o'erglaze;
It's hard to breathe, I feel like dead,
I think I'd rather sneeze instead.
(Written Sept 2012)
poem by John Carter Brown
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Grandad
'Thank goodness for these zimmer-frames'
Old grandad would declare,
When his knees began a knocking,
And his teeth flew in the air.
His head was full of nothing,
And his brains were in his feet;
If they gave him chips for dinner,
He would think it was a treat.
So he upped and left his children,
And came to this huge place:
This resting house for old folk,
Where life can leave no trace.
(Written Feb 1994)
poem by John Carter Brown
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