Section: «Poems»
Verse (ancient Greek ὁ στίχος — row, structure), a term in versification used in several meanings:
artistic speech organized by division into rhythmically commensurate segments; poetry in the narrow sense; in particular, it implies the properties of versification of a particular tradition ("antique verse", "Akhmatova's verse", etc.);
a line of poetic text organized according to a certain rhythmic pattern ("My uncle of the most honest rules").
Mothers Whistling Kettle
Mothers got the kettle on it's left to long on the hob.There is so much steam about it looks like a mop up job.As I walk into the kitchen off come my..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Shopping Trip
You pick a fine day so you're off to the stores, up anddown on the escalator to all different floors.Into a shopping mall where life never stands..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Battle For Supremacy, A Very Potty Story
My name is Plonker, and I am a pot and I have now beenthrown on the compost plot. I have a busted base and a chipon my rim, my chances of working..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Collectors World
Some people have a problem, one that can take it's toll.To them it's like an addiction, totally out of controlThese people that I write about, are..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Touch Of Love
There was once a child who's heart was broken, she hadno love only gifts and tokens. Showered with money andgifts from her Dad, it's no wonder this..
© Sylvia Spencer
Pain And Sorrow
What of life as the sun rises away from the cloud of doom.Is there a place that is without doom and gloom.Is there a far distant land where life is..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Tale Of Two Smokers
Flash, the Ash and Smoky Joe were two Pawn Brokersthey also were two heavy smokers.Now Joe he owned ashop in Thetford and Flash owned one in..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Message To A Great Poet
There is a poet who lives in our modern times, who writeswords of comfort and some of those words just blend into rhymes.Then there are his verses no..
© Sylvia Spencer
Sight Seeing
I walked into the waiting room and clicked up fifty fourand what came in behind me nearly knocked me to the floor.A family of three who were the size..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Tall Story
The Inn smelt old as I walked through the door.The tables were rustic and so was the floor.I sat by the fire all cold and damp and my feetwere wet..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Sad Life
What a sad life I lead, stuck here on the wallwith two screws in my guts so that I don't fall.I am only here to hang a basket, one that is fullof..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Part Of Living
A part of living is what I am going to write aboutand that is why us Mums always shout. When wecome home from work and there's a pile in the sinkbut..
© Sylvia Spencer
Butcher Bill
There was once a butcher who went by the nameof Bill who displayed all his meat on the windowsill.This was his way of showing his customers, what he..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Carpet Tale
Oh no not another stain on my carpet so red,its times like these I wish I was dead.When I was new I was laid out like a Queen, butnow I am ashamed to..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Day At The Races
I'm going down to Epsom on this our Derby dayI've got lots of cash so I expect to make it pay.I'm going to the bookies ive got a few pounds.I've put..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Tiny Bit Of Self Belief
I am no poet, because people have told me so.I am no story teller, that at least I know.I could never be a Novelist because I have no flarebut I have..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Garden Army
Come down to my garden and see the armyno my friends I have not gone barmy. They areout in force dressed in red and black armour,each and everyone a..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Kitchen Lament
Why does the fly create so much havocwhen he is just passing his time awayHe comes through your window lookingfor food, how can he be so rude. He..
© Sylvia Spencer
Battery Needed
Why is my clock always slow?It always plays up, when there issomewhere to go. Why does my clocknever tell the right time, when it readsten minutes to..
© Sylvia Spencer
The Message Of Poetry
How can I think of serious things,when the air is alive,with the flutter of wings,How can I focus on writing a sonnetWhen the lady beside me,is..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Convict Branded
Crammed in like cattle on a diat of biscuits and water.Straight out of Newgate like lambs being led to slaughter.Sentenced to deportation for..
© Sylvia Spencer
A Buttercup Tale
I know of a buttercup with a story to telland I can honestly say there has never been astory told so well. A pretty buttercup so wild and freeonce..
© Sylvia Spencer
Middle Age
Middle age has a balance,between the young and old.I sometimes feel it's better,Than a shining pot of gold.It gives you all the things,that life has..
© Sylvia Spencer
House And Home
Windows sparkling bright,without a touch of dust.White plastic framesto stop corrosion and rust.Outside and inside,always looking new.These people..
© Sylvia Spencer
Where Are Friends
Where are friends, oh where are theyCan I see them from a farFriends are like gold dust, but will we ever knowIf they are sincere, or like a falling..
© Sylvia Spencer