Guernsey Poets

Old Mag the hag sat with her cat, she in her chair, it on its mat. She muttered intermittently as so befits a retiree but what she mutt...

Friday, midnight, moon is waning, fortunately it’s not raining, as three naked women frolic in a habitat, bucolic. Drinking potions, ch...

Came home last night the worse for drink and didn’t really pause to think. Opened the window, popped the cat outside to do its this and ...

Young love’s romantic that’s for sure it’s dewy-eyed, intense and pure, emotional to wild extremes, hot-blooded too, the stuff of dreams...

In bobble hat and rubber shoes, she looked a most unlikely muse but, seeing her, I scrawled a sonnet (I had my surfboard. I wrote on it....

We buy the Telegraph each day although, each day, it’s one day late but we don’t mind, we keep abreast with all things English anyway ...

There’s one rule for the privileged, another for the rest when, in fairness, there should be one rule for all. If plebs don’t quarantine...

Sup er cali fragil istic expi ali docious The lyric really is correct, that word is quite atrocious. Instead of writing tongue-twisters...

At a party, met a man, intriguing fellow, very bright, who told me of his clever plan: something to do with trapping light then harnes...

Prince Albert with his pier-side view and Hugo up on Candie’s rock must tremble, if a stone statue can tremble when it gets a shock as...

I don’t know why I envy him. I think that he should envy me. He may attend a fancy gym, look GQ cool, write poetry, play the guitar, be ...

Hippies get old but somehow they don’t change. Kaftans and funny beads remain the thing and tie-dye shirts, of course, but in’t it strange...

The year is Twenty Thirty One a new decade has just begun and if time-travel is your bag you’ll join me here without a snag but what a s...

Thank you Lord, Flamingos cry, surveying, with disdainful stare, all manner of ignoble beasts of crooked horn or matted hair. Thank you...

We hit words to and fro, employing power and back-swing, serve and volley, determined, each, to score points off the other. We both star...

That bloody Mayor, he promised me three bags of silver, newly minted, and maybe willing girls, he hinted, if I would only guarantee to...

Dancing at La Catioroc, Nell and Dolly, Maud and Alice, skipping, one rock to the next rock, sniggering with joyous malice. Three old ...

Boris, Boris, Brontosaurus, crashing blindly through the forest, hair askew, complexion pinked, destination indistinct, doesn’t know tha...

It’s all become a real ordeal: in peelings, she’s up to her eyes. These damn pies of Potato Peel will be the death of me! She cries. ...

When Mrs Pol goes off to see her aunt who lives across the town with umpteen cats, Mr Pol skips upstairs with a smile to slip on his wife...