Poerty for two beasts and a wizard

A flim flam

And a falafel

Where sitting on a post

The flim flam looking bemused

As it ate some thickly sliced hot toast

You appear to have lost something

The flim flam inquisitively said

I have . . .

 I have lost a beautiful Rudy said the falafel

And it’s very very red

The flim flam smiled

As it looked out upon the Sunny day

And said

Is that it glinting discreetly?

Down there among the hay

But as they watched

A wizard picked it up

And held it in his hand

He however noticed

The narrowing eyes of the flim flam

Looking directly at his face

I suggest you give that back to its owner

As not too would be a positive disgrace

But the wizard laughed and said . . . .  Or what

As wizards tend to do

But the flim flam ate him

And on the wizard the flim flam it did chew

Until there was nothing left but a very red Ruby

Which it happily returned to the falafel

Because that’s what flim flams do . . . . .

Poetry for Extinct Beasts

lizard beast

Behold the Greater Spotted Paraphrase
Which moves in stealthy and beguiling ways
And it is said it is a beast that man can’t see
Because of its camouflage and complex geometry
And fantastic as this beast may be
It will spend its entire life in a single tree
Or so we think, but do not know
Because despite chopping down all the trees
We have not seen it
Which is a bitter blow
As it now appears the beast
Is probably extinct
And we might have seen it
If we had not blinked
Nature is like that


Poetry for the Diet of a Dragon

dragons head 1

Tarquin the Dragon
Likes ice cream on toast
pizza and pie,
Rhubarb crumble made by a ghost
Followed by a nice Sunday roast
Deep fried
And marinated
In liquidised corpses of fly. . . .
And he will eat pumpkin seeds
As long as they are a bright bright red
And he once ate baked beans
By did not like them, he said
He likes iron filling with a hint of rust
And salt on his porridge is an absolute must
He will even eat tin
If it is served right
Wrapped round a grumpy medieval knight
Who as you might expect
Will complain when the dragon
Takes his first bite
He once ate three witches
From a Shakespearian play
And would have eaten the prince and the princess
But they both ran away
And he is partial to Poet
And says they taste of snow
And who could resist glow worms
When they start to glow
And every dragon
Likes toad and frog soup
Some anchovies and garlic
With an accessional Spaghetti hoop
And a big bowl of hot wizard stew
And a nice bit of Harry Potter gristle
On which to have a good chew
All washed down with some camomile tea
Accompanied by a bit of
Rancid fermented Bree


Poetry for a Wise Old Man

dragon 1c

A wise old man puffs his Rum-Pipe as dusk falls
Listening to the forests strange and eerie calls
Telling travelling strangers as they pass his way
Of the terrible dangers of the forest day
And how to avoid the Grumble Spit and other beasts
Which turn passing strangers into delicious feasts?
But first they must slip a shiny coin into his hand
Or they will never survive their passage across the land
And as the wise old man puffs his Rum-Pipe as dusk falls
Listening to the forests strange and eerie calls
He tells the travellers of the man eating Spiky Rat
And the Willowy Fire Beast and the Poisonous Gnat.
There are of course some who say the old man is quite mad
But the travelling strangers are always glad
When they pass through the forest safe and sound
As they travel far across unfamiliar ground
And at the end of the day
When the wise old man finally shuts his door
Many shiny coins into his piggy bank he does pour


Because he is far from being mad
He is a wise and rather wealth old man

More Poetry for Fantastic Beasts (Dragons)

A bit More Poetry for Fantastic Beasts or in this case Dragons, because everyone likes a dragon or two


dragon 6 blue2

Before going to look for a dragon
Folk will often drink a double flagon
Of extra strong homebrew beer
And as they enter a dark gloomy cave
Feeling apprehensive but somewhat brave. . .
This as we know, being the traditional dragon’s lair.
They will often wave a large sword about
And then very loudly loudly shout
By all alas to no avail
Because quite frankly
The dragon
Will not
Care as it sits preening its scaly tail
Because as we know
Dragons are extremely rare
So are now a protected species
By law
So even as the dragon
Flicks out all the talons on its
Extremely large scary claw
It will remind you of this fact
Before it then attacks
And you end up
All sore red and raw
Scratched from head to foot
And to the core
And its all the fault
Of those knights of old
Who were unaware of
The implications
That would unfold
Of killing Dragons
On their quest
To do knightly
Bringing the life of
To an untimely

Poetry for a slight Confusion between Interplanetary Species

alien monsters C

A small tiny insect with lots of legs
Which had many eyes and laid many eggs
Bored unnoticed into the stomach
Of a vicar in Crewe
The sort of thing an insect is likely to do
But it emerged six months later
With a huge alien head
Which frightened the entire congregation
And left the vicar quite dead
Resulting in much running and screaming
In the church that weekend
And the poor vicars wife
Sadly went quite round the bend
Well the poor old alien
Did not know what he had done
Because he and his mates
Were just having fun
Which is why on Songs of Praise
Televised live sometime
Just after a traditional Sunday lunch
An Alien ate the entire choir
With a rather grizzly

Poetry for a Harry Potter Spell

Ah yes sorry about this but its an old poem from February so its sort of on the wrong night, but I think we can use a bit of poetic licence as this is a poem. . . . (sort of). I have written quite a few Harry Potter based poems so be afraid. . . .very afraid



Splinters from a crushed Ash Wand
Water from a stagnant pond
A feather from a Snowy Owl
And the fluids from an Otters Bowel
Fibres from a Witches Hat
Scales from the tail of a Water Rat
Voldemort’s breath and his angry stare
Echoes from a dragon’s lair
A flame from the famed Goblet of Fire
A harmonious note from Hogwarts Choir
The blink of a Bowtruckle
Hiding high in a tree
Some Puffskein fur from its Knee
A kelpies whisper in the highland Mist
A frog from a fairytale
That has never been kissed
And with some blood from Mr Harry Potter
Stir the caldron until it gets hotter
Stir and Stir and Stir and say
It is Harry Potter Book Night later Today
Then laugh hysterically
Into the Enchanted Wood
As all good Witches and Wizards know
They should

Then in the morning when all is done
It’s back to work
Which is no