Poetry by Steve Gould Words That Tell a Story

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Try walking along Skegness beach
In purple socks with a spotted peach.
Wave at the gulls with a custard spoon,
Then whistle politely at half past noon.

Follow the footprints left by a crab,
Who borrowed a bucket from Cousin Mab.

Step over a jellyfish wearing a tie,
Who winked at a cloud drifting lazily by.

Mind the sand that tickles your toes,
Especially near the giggling crows.
If a sausage rolls past with a squeaky "Pardon!"

It's probably escaped from somebody's garden.

Should you meet a lobster in Wellington boots,
Playing a trumpet made out of roots,
Don't be alarmed

just offer a smile,
And walk beside him for half a mile.

But if the sea starts singing "Meow!"
And a fish appears wearing a cow,
You'll know you've wandered, 

without a doubt...

...straight into Wonderland.

A playful nonsense poem by Steve Gould, inspired by Skegness, imagination and a touch of Wonderland.

THE PARROTFISH, THE TOAST AND THE CAT

There’s no such thing as a parrotfish.

Is there?

Is it a parrot

or is it a fish?

It can be one,

but it can’t be both.

Would you care to feed it toast?

A fish with a ridge

could jump off a bridge,

but if it could fly

would it still be a fish?

Flying fish fly.

At least I think they do.

Butterflies fly too.

But does butter?

If butter could fly

and toast could fall,

which way down

would the toast go at all?

Butter side down,

everybody knows that.

But cats land on their paws.

Everybody knows that too.

So if you put butter

on a cat’s paws

would it stop the cat wandering?

Or would it just make

the cat want toast?

And if the cat fell,

which way would it go?

Paws down?

Butter down?

Both down?

It can’t be both.

Can it?

Perhaps it would go sideways.

Or not go anywhere at all.

Are cakes considered toast?

No.

But crumpets are toasty.

Unless you don’t toast them.

Then they’re just crumpets

waiting to become toastier.

I can see the parrot.

I still can’t see the fish.

Was there a fish?

I’m sure there was.

It might have gone over the bridge.

Unless it flew.

Like butter.

Which brings us back to the toast.

And the cat.

Where is the cat?

And more importantly,

which way up is it?