VICTORIA GEORGE Poems

When evening turns to darkest night
And stars are in the sky
When the garden’s swathed in silver light
That’s when my fox comes by
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I wish the reason could be known
To this mere mortal here
The secret must be God’s alone
One heaven cannot share
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I bid on a beautiful ring
With a very hefty price tag
But got outbid on this thing
So I bid on a Prada hand-bag
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A poem is not poetic art
If it doesn’t rhyme right from the start
If they don’t rhyme just like they ought
They’re just a lot of words and thoughts
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A poem is not poetic art
If it doesn’t rhyme right from the start
If they don’t rhyme just like they ought
They’re just a lot of words and thoughts
...

I used to love Wimbledon so
With Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe
Now it’s just a big pain
With gals from the Ukraine
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Noah was telling his crew
“I know we’re pretty contented
The trouble is - we’ve nowt to do
As TV has not been invented”
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I’ve never needed enemies
Because I’ve got my mum
She tells me I’ve got saggy knees
And a big fat bum
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A bought a tooth whitening kit
Because my gnashers were brown
It really was money for sh*t
Cos’ that chemical kit let me down
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Whilst making a new shopping list
I realised that it was in rhyme
Not a purposeful thing, I insist
But randomly writing each line
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