Goodby Piccadilly Farewell Leicester Square

Cats among the pigeons

In Trafalgar battle scenes 

As our nation-states are shaded 

Highlighting Yellows Pinks or Greens 

It feels as though a state of war 

Occurred without a bullet fired 

As yesterday has waved goodbye 

To all that stuff we once admired 

Resourcefulness will soon set in 

As neediness takes hold 

Sharing shards from ration cards 

Because they broke the British mould

Boris isn’t good enough

No reprieve on leave or stay

Nor that man Gove do we behove

Bring on Theresa come what may

A Solution In Rhyme

Our British style of politics

Has clearly had its day

Middle roads are reservations

Right and Left will never sway

We need a federal mini-group

Of individual sovereign nations

A vested interest commune

With represented delegations

Far from great or near united

We can blend each other’s view

For the sake of joint security

Fairly divvy up the stew

If all this sounds familiar

As I’m sure it will to many

That a group of folks all on one side

Can earn a pretty penny

Confusion reigns in little Britain

Schizophrenic crowns of thorn

Gave up the fight preferring flight

Letting brains give way to brawn

Ireland Scotland London Wales

Favour all things European

So why not have a referendum
A great idea! Quite Herculean

Toast is Most

Wikipedia: "The crusts of most bread such as this brioche are golden brown due to the Maillard Reaction

Maillard Reaction Wikipedia Link

Far more than a ‘tasty-bread’

A slice of toast transforms

In other ways to suit your taste

Your loaf of bread performs

So many tempting recipes

To accelerate your traction

A sandwich on a supper plate

Teasing out Maillard reaction

Non-enzymatic browning

Much deliciousness on toast

Turning anything to everything

A sort of teapot platter roast

Well! Hello There!

I met myself the other day

To begin with quite surprised

It can’t be me it’s someone else

I misguidedly surmised

If confronted by ones otherness

More than just by catching sight

A face-to-face contrary place

Maybe transcendent in the light

No point in asking questions

A senseless verdict may acquit

Any answers would be I suspect

A test of truth to not submit

Is it my consciousness transmitting
A lucid signal super wave
As though myself was telling me
I have many things to save 

It was a first time meeting
Though anecdotal I suggest
Lacking facts to back me up
My testimony me at best

This rhyme was written after listening to: The Man Who Left His Body

Listen in pop-out player

Dr Broks Casebook: Neuropsychologist Paul Broks continues his detective hunt for the self.

BBC Radio 4 Programme Link

Valediction

Sitting by a silver cloud

A feather bed well lined

Sing a swan finale song

Warbled happiness inclined

Fulfilled a life in regal flight

Ecstatically serene

Unrivalled in exorbitance

This visiting transmarine 

Aftermath

When England went Ultra Right-Wing and flew round in circles

Scottish guys are on their way

The Northern Irish too for sure

Wales proclaims UK bygone

Half of England slammed the door

London may declare itself

An independent city-state 

As Lancashire and Yorkshire

Will finally relate

We’re all in bits and pieces

Shattered fragments in a pile

How wonderful to be at last

In self-sufficient village style

Sticky Situation

The man down the lane

Who leaned on a cane

Tapping along as he walked

Yet it kept him upright

With folks while he talked

Helped him upstairs every night

Each morning began

As often they can

With resolve to master his gait

Though whenever he stood

Quite steady and straight

He forgot how he lived by the wood

Plumb Bob Sanitation Blues

In a world of weary O rings

Bouncing ballcocks in the vat

Stopcocks seized up motionless

Tragic heating thermostat

Buckets filled from sopping leaks

Stubborn washbowls will not drain

Sewage streams are backing up

We need new carpets once again

Send for Bob the Plumber chap

A toolbox wizard with a wrench

His magic tricks will mishap fix

And bleed away the putrid stench

He’ll tighten up those sweaty glands

Heal the splish-splash drippy blues

Set our sanitary sweet again

Flowing water free good news

© Poem Only C K Letts

Written for Bob Armstrong a very special local plumber