John Thorkild Ellison

John Thorkild Ellison Poems

The day my doctor died of smoking
I bought myself a fat cigar -
I realised he must be joking,
His funeral was so bizarre:

Outside the surge of the wind, the wind in the trees,
The rush of leaves, and the sighing in the pine-needles,
Outside the sound of the sea-shore, distant, remembered,
The waves breaking on the gray rocks, and the evening approaching,

</>Blond bicycles writhe in the swimming pools
of dark professors.
'What rubbish! ' you say, but I've seen it myself:
Blond bicycles writhe in the swimming pools

In spite of my pain,
Inexplicable sweet strands of soured mist twist
In the echelons of salt streams,
The fist of kings is lost in the parting waves,

Through the window the still yard.
A cat runs across and disappears through the slender doorway.
What to do on a day like this?
Such emptiness!

I wandered in a dream
And heard bluebells chime by the water,
Saw unicorns drink from the stream
And heard wild, whirling elvish laughter.


You've finally made me realise
Love's just a squirt between the thighs.

I thought it was so much more!

Sing a song of Hitler
(Unless you'd rather die) ,
Five-and-twenty Nazis
Baked in a pie;

Come be my Valentine
And make me dance with joy;
I'll give you babies, one, two, three,
A girl, an alien, and a boy.

I went to the concert to see The Doors -
Man, you should have been there and heard the applause!
Jim Morrison had done his thing,
The fabulous, beautiful Lizard King,

When I was nearly round the bend
I turned to you,
I had a drink or two,
I thought that you would help, False Friend!

Inside the embers glow in the grate
While the garden quietly suffocates in snow.

I walked by the river
Where it is usually so quiet and peaceful.
Crazy kids on motorbikes sounded
Like trapped bluebottles in a summer kitchen,

I've listened to your hype
And it leaves me cold,
You're simply not my type,
I'm much too old

Don't fight for England anymore,
Don't fight for the chaps at the corner store,
Just go back home and close the door
'Cos England isn't England anymore.

O God our Help at two o'clock,
Our Help at half-past three,
What do You do at four o'clock
When we are having tea?

Please be quiet, little friend,
You're driving me right round the bend!
I'm sick and tired of your whining voice,
You're giving me no other choice

When things cut up rough
Don't waste a life,
It isn't tough
To use a knife,

What did she miss the most?
Let's guess!
Did she miss his touch or his voice?
His fingers lovingly fingering

John Thorkild Ellison Biography

For biography, please see my poem 'The Failed Mystic'.)

The Best Poem Of John Thorkild Ellison

Poetry Can Damage Your Health

The day my doctor died of smoking
I bought myself a fat cigar -
I realised he must be joking,
His funeral was so bizarre:

A dwarf in multi-coloured clothing
Sang louder than the parish choir
And though my heart was full of loathing
I leapt upon the funeral pyre.

I'd often longed for such a roasting
And knew it was my friend's desire,
I shouted out 'We'll all be toasting
In Hell's incandescent fire! '

Don't be discouraged by this story,
Smoking cigarettes is fine,
Inhale them on your days of glory
And drink your fill of rich, red wine! !

John Thorkild Ellison Comments

Killian Brooks 28 December 2013

Your poetry is beautiful, all the ones I've read so far, seem to have the balance of darkness and innocence is so hard to write. I really like the sort of emotions they stir up in my chest.

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Keith Oldrey 08 May 2012

Thank you for Sex in the Car at last poetry with a purpose

0 0 Reply
Natalia Sozh 30 April 2012

I really enjoyed your poem: the sense and the language as well. There's music and good humour in it. I even feel like translating it in Russian. Thanks a lot!

1 0 Reply
Ramesh Rai 04 October 2011

Respected Sir, If you may kindly spare your valuable time, please read my poem and comment because your comments will boost my energy. most of the poems are in english some are in other language. if you do not understand other language please intimate me, I would like to brief them in English. With kind regards - Ramesh Rai,

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Joshua Livengood 19 July 2010

John i must admit, your poem Dying earth was unique. its the first poem on here that ive written down and re customized to my liking. you chose just the subject for a poem, and in mine as the same, which i call running silver sphere (earth) , i basicly took your ideas and turned them around in my viewpoint, though maybe a line or three i kept unchanged. but all aside, well done.

0 0 Reply

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