The Foreign

Across our land from East to west,
We built a great walled defense,
From the foreign who live beyond divide,
Of whom we do not speak their kind.
With thirst of blood and human flesh,
We stay behind our safety fence.
But when we cross, to our back it looms,
The wall becomes our grave and tomb.

This is my F poem for the A to Z challenge.

My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within. You may want to read a couple other poems in my challenge to get the gist.

This one comes from the story of Hadrian’s wall, and the fear of those that lurked beyond it. It’s hugely inspired by The wall in the game of thrones series and books, but it’s our wall and we had one first!!!


Alphabet Zoo – The Elephant

The elephants in our British zoo,
Are always catching colds and flus,
Because they come from the sun,
Where temperature peak at 41.
And imagine if you had a nose,
Longer than a garden hose,
Imagine if you had to sneeze,
With your nose so long and free,
You’d try to blow a sweet Achoo,
That sounds more like a big HAROOOO!

Alphabet Zoo – The Dung Beetle

For why you’d want to be a bug,
That spends it’s day rolling dung,
From camels cows and kangaroos,
This beetle collects and rolls it’s poos,
And stores it fresh in a hole,
For dinner, stews and casseroles,
Once he made a huge poo pie,
And invited round the bugs to try.
Cockroach he turned up his nose,
And said that pie just didn’t go,
Cricket said I won’t eat that,
Lady bird: ‘that will make me fat’,
The fly he said I don’t share my dung,
And beetle gagged and off he run.
The dung bug sighed and then he,
Thought and thought ‘well more for me’.

Alphabet Zoo – The Camel

A camel, is a magnificent beast,
From Africa and the Middle East.
But the camel Here in alphabet zoo,
Came from the land Timbuktu.
And when we noticed something wrong,
Our camel did not run along,
He did not eat or roll in sand,
He did not spit or help out man,
We told our vet, our camel grumps,
He suggested he must have the hump!

This poem is part of Alphabet Zoo, you can find this in my categories. The idea of it is some light hearted humorous poems, to get my mind in gear for the April A-Z Challenge.

Alphabet Zoo – The Jazz Bee

Exhibit 2, we call ‘The Jive’
Is of course the Jazz bee Hive.
Jazz bees named because of that,
They dance and sing and bop and scat.
Music made by the sound of wings,
The band they named themselves the stings,
There’s bee bop and bee bop skeet,
They’re on rhythm bass and beat,
On vocal we have the Honey pack,
And Bugabee sings and plays the sax.
And after a few nectar brews,
The jazz bees bop in ones and twos.


No memory of the night before,
Shoes lying on the kitchen floor,
I am not drinking anymore,
It’s jägeritis for sure.

My head it hurts and spins,
I have bruises cuts and other things,
My ears, well all I hear is rings,
Oh what jägeritis brings.

I only had a shot or two,
Well that is not exactly true,
Now I have some kind of flu,
Jägeritis! who knew!?!

Feeling more than under weather,
It certainly isn’t big or clever,
Now I wish I was much better,
Jägeritis is not a pleasure.

Perhaps it’s something that I ate?
Or that I went to bed too late,
Maybe it is a bug or fate,
Jägeritis! I hate!

Ok so maybe it is not,
I admit I had too many shots,
Apart from that I drank alot!
Jägeritis it is not!

Jägeritis Is a condition that effects millions world wide. Symptoms include:
– Short term memory loss
– feeling tired and lightheaded
– unexplainable bruises and cuts
– dry mouth
– feeling nauseous and/ or vomiting
It is often that these symptoms are more common on or after the weekend! If you think you may be suffering from jägeritis DO NOT follow the ‘what makes you bad makes you better’ rule as this may cause symptoms to flare up. Drink plenty water and take plenty rest!


Poem for a Pastie

Oh sausage rolly,
all sad and lonely,
On a tray all by itself.
No pasties or pies,
Stand by it’s side,
On this baron shelf.

These pastie shops,
Don’t have a lot,
By the end of day,
The fillings cold,
The pastry’s old,
And there’s the vat to pay.

Living in the north of England, I find there is a greggs on every street corner! On a cold rainy day there is nothing more inviting than the warm orange glow of the pastie shop, only to find at 5:30pm all that’s left is a wilted steak bake and half a corned beef slice. It’s tragic!