Poets’ Corner – a couple of my “Lockdown” Favourites

Hello again everyone!

I think I mentioned that the idea of a “Poets’ Corner” was born out of my finding and reading some amusing poetry to a group of elderly ladies that my husband and I would normally transport every other Monday to their Tea Club in the Lions Club minibus.  When we went into lockdown, I vowed to phone these ladies each Monday to have a chat a read them some poems.   The one below is one of my favourites.




They’re pouring into Brighton

From everywhere I hear

It isn’t for the candy floss

It isn’t for the pier.

They’ve brought their buckets and their spades

They’ve brought their flasks of tea

But they haven’t brought their bathers ‘cos

They’re into NUDITY!!




Mum’s all bare, Dad’s all bare

The kids are starkers too

Grandad thought he’d have a crafty streak

I didn’t think that he had got the barefaced cheek!

My old girl

Didn’t she look a peach

Wobblin’ down to the water

On Brighton Nudist Beach!


The Vicar doesn’t like it

Teacher is upset

Yours disgusted Tunbridge Wells

Has not recovered yet!

The beach has been more crowded since

I don’t remember when

And I hear the price of telescopes

Is going up again!


Johnny went out shrimping

With his little net

Up and down the water’s edge

He hadn’t caught one yet.

He pushed his net into the sea

His Dad went pale and limp

Johnny said “I’m sorry Dad

I thought it was a shrimp!”


So come on down to Brighton

Come and have a bash

Just down the road from London Town

You’ll be there in a flash.

Swim in the altogether with

The old folk and the nippers

You can stay here for a week

Or just be a day Stripper!


Author anon (sorry!)




Poets’ Corner rides again!

The following poem was written by our Committee Member and Treasurer, Marilyn Nolan.  Marilyn had a friend who lived opposite the pond in Seaford……..





From “Duckhaven”

Blatchington Pond

Sutton Drove





Dear Sir

We used to be so happy, swimming here and there,

Just like all the other ducks, we didn’t have a care.


But now it’s all so different, we can no longer play,

We have to be on guard now twenty-four hours a day.


The reason is so obvious;  it’s there for all to see,

They’re up there on the buttress wall, leering down with glee.


We hear they call them eagles, but they make our feathers creep,

To us they look like vultures and never seem to sleep.


Up there staring, wings outspread, they give us the evil eye,

We’re shaking under our eider down, expecting them to fly.


If you’ve put them there to guard you, or protect your “Milliners Rest”,

You need to look no further, our protection is the best.


We’ll listen for intruders and watch with beady eyes,

We’ll quack and quack and flap our wings and won’t tell porky pies.


We beg of you, dear Christopher, this heartfelt plea we make,

Please cover up those eagles and give us ducks a break.


Yours sincerely

Donald, Daisy and the Ducklings.

Many thanks Marilyn!!

Poets’ Corner – on the run down

Good afternoon again – it seems like we’re heading for a pretty unsociable Christmas.  However, I still have some poems to perhaps cheer you up!

The first one is again from Christina Lynn, and relates to the first “Lockdown” in March this year.  Let’s hope it doesn’t get this bad again!!




As we went into “lockdown”

Our shopping it became a problem.

Those with computers shopped on line

If slot was found, it would be fine,

Others used “click and collect”

Great if order was correct!

Many had to go themselves

And often there were empty shelves.

That virus caused a great pandemic,

Not a loo roll could you buy

Though in many shops you try.

Gone were the days when choice you had

No cushioned quilted, t’was too bad!

Though some of us have not forgotten

When all you had to wipe your bottom,

Old timetables pages which you tore

From hook on back of privy door!

Tins of soup and fish and beans

Some grabbed them all by any means.

I hope those greedy people blush

‘Cos weaker ones they shoved and pushed.

And then we had to social distance,

Closer than two metres an offence.

Were told it was for our own good

When far apart, in queues we stood.

As a nation we’ve much practice

Buses, trains, and at Post Office

We’ve obediently stood in line,

And often waited quite a time!

Now one in, one out, it was the rule,

And most of us were sensible,

But when in shop at last we got,

We really felt we’d lost the plot.

Direction arrows like a maze

Left us feeling in a daze!

Up one aisle and down another

Shopping now, you’re in a dither

‘Cos when shopping you’ve a list

So things important you don’t miss.

Just when you thought you’d got the lot

You look at list, one item you’ve forgot

So round the shop you go again

Oh dear me, it is a pain!

Blast! it’s getting very late

Again at checkout you must wait

Then, at last, your shopping done

In the car and head for home.


Many thanks Christina!

Final Poem for today

And here is one from one of my favourite writers of cautionary tales



(and suffered a catastrophe of considerable dimensions)


When George’s Grandmamma was told

That George had been as good as gold,

She promised in the afternoon

To buy him an immense BALLOON,


So she did; but when it came, it got into the candle flame

And being of a dangerous sort


with a loud report!


The lights went out! T-he windows broke!

The room was filled with reeking smoke.

And in the darkness shrieks and yells

Were mingled with electric bells,

And falling masonry and groands,

And crunching, as of broken bones,

And dreadful shrieks, when worst of all,

The house itself began to fall!

It tottered, shuddering to and fro,

Then crashed into the street below-

Which happened to be Saville Row.



When help arrived, among the dead


Cousin Mary,

Little Fred,

The footmen

(both of them),

The Groom,

The man that cleaned the Billiard-Room,

The Chaplain and

The Still-Room Maid.

And I am dreadfully afraid

The Monsieur Champignon, the Chef

Will now be

Permanently deaf.

And both his Aides

are much the same;

While George, who was in part to blame,

Received, you will regret to hear,

A nasty lump

behind the ear!



The moral is that little boys

Should not be given dangerous toys!!

By Hilaire Belloc

Poets’ Corner – continued!

An Ode to a Diamond

Cathy is a one off, I know you’ll all agree,

And everyone will miss her, but no-one more than me.

I remember well her interview, she outshone all the rest,

And left us in no doubt that she was simply the best.

The nine years she’s been with us, have flown by in a whirl,

With a short break in the middle to produce a baby girl!

She has proved to be a diamond, there’s just one of her kind,

A harder working person would be difficult to find.

With her friendly smile and attitude and eagerness to please,

She made everyone feel welcome and put them at their ease.

Although she’s very flexible, of her you could not rob,

The writing of the registers, it was her favourite job.

And though I had to search hard, a fault I finally found,

She seemed to have a problem with pens lying around.

If your pen was missing, no good looking on the floor,

Or under your computer, it would be in Cathy’s drawer!


Written by our Treasurer and Committee member, Marilyn Nolan, who was once Cathy’s Manager at Sussex Downs College!

Poets’ Corner – on the wind down……

Good afternoon everyone – I do apologise for the hiatus in getting some new verses to you, but it’s getting a bit more difficult as time passes.

However, here is another poem, written by Christina Lynn, and with an “Early Covid-19” Theme……


On Thursday night at eight they came

To clap for carers was the aim

And after, friends and neighbours stayed awhile

For a chat -t’would boost morale.

Now ladies Sandra, Ros, Margaret & Anne

Heads together made a plan

Front gardens, mornings in the sun

Have a drink & eat a bun.

We can have a right good natter

‘Bout all the things that really matter.

There’s many topics they discuss,

Great debate with little fuss.

Perhaps if there were men around

Arguments they would abound!

Most days, when at twelve o’clock

I take a short walk round the block,

From a distance I can hear

Much laughter, witch-like cackles

Quite scary, it can raise your hackles.

So I’ve given them a name

Which came unbidden to my brain.

‘Noon Day witches’ don’t take offence

I know to you might make no sense,

But I’d just listened to this music

For you its title seemed to fit!

Yes you really made me smile

From real witches I would run a mile,

But you’ve no broomsticks, hats or spells

And helping others you do well.

Of ladies you are Wannock’s best

And the tea you made it passed the test.

On Wednesdays when you came to pour

And cakes dispense and much much more

“The Noon Day Witches” is the title of a symphonic poem by Antonin Dvorak

Poets’ Corner – another “Ode”

Finally for today at least, here is an original from our Committee Member, Marilyn Nolan:



If your wedding is approaching, you’ll be looking forward to the day,

But be careful with arrangements, take note of what I say.


Book the venue for the service, for the reception, book the hall,

And don’t forget the photos, that would never do at all.


The bride will look so lovely, the groom so dapper too,

To have no record of the day would surely never do.


A rumour has been spread about, there’s a snapper on the loose,

She says she’s a photographer, but beware, it’s just a ruse.


If you do decide to use her to record your happy day,

Make sure you have a back up somewhere along the way.


She goes to all the parties, and gladly volunteers,

Clutching her box brownie, which she’s had for donkeys’ years.


We thought with her advancing years, her memory she’d lose,

But now we think it’s probably ’cause she likes a drop of booze.


She really is forgetful, of that we have no doubt,

‘Cause she discovers when it’s too late, the film has been left out!



So if you want your album to be full and free of gaps,

Take a tip from all of us:  don’t get “Mo” to take the snaps!


Author:  Marilyn Nolan

Poets’ Corner – The Three Little Pigs

Hi again – I’m sure you all remember the story of “The Three Little Pigs” that we were told as tiny children?  I certainly remember my mother reading it to me.  What I didn’t realise as a little tot was that I was never told the whole version, so here goes: my offering for today!


The Three Little Pigs  

The animal I really dig,
Above all others is the pig.
Pigs are noble. Pigs are clever,
Pigs are courteous. However,
Now and then, to break this rule,
One meets a pig who is a fool.
What, for example, would you say,
If strolling through the woods one day,
Right there in front of you you saw
A pig who’d built his house of STRAW?
The Wolf who saw it licked his lips,
And said, ‘That pig has had his chips.’
‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in!’
‘No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!’
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!’

The little pig began to pray,
But Wolfie blew his house away.
He shouted, ‘Bacon, pork and ham!
Oh, what a lucky Wolf I am!’
And though he ate the pig quite fast,
He carefully kept the tail till last.
Wolf wandered on, a trifle bloated.
Surprise, surprise, for soon he noted
Another little house for pigs,
And this one had been built of TWIGS!

‘Little pig, little pig, let me come in!’
‘No, no, by the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin!’
‘Then I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house in!’

The Wolf said, ‘Okay, here we go!’
He then began to blow and blow.
The little pig began to squeal.
He cried, ‘Oh Wolf, you’ve had one meal!
Why can’t we talk and make a deal?
The Wolf replied, ‘Not on your nelly!’
And soon the pig was in his belly.

‘Two juicy little pigs!’ Wolf cried,
‘But still I’m not quite satisfied!
I know how full my tummy’s bulging,
But oh, how I adore indulging.’
So creeping quietly as a mouse,
The Wolf approached another house,
A house which also had inside
A little piggy trying to hide.
‘You’ll not get me!’ the Piggy cried.
‘I’ll blow you down!’ the Wolf replied.
‘You’ll need,’ Pig said, ‘a lot of puff,
And I don’t think you’ve got enough.’
Wolf huffed and puffed and blew and blew.
The house stayed up as good as new.
‘If I can’t blow it down,’ Wolf said,
I’ll have to blow it up instead.
I’ll come back in the dead of night
And blow it up with dynamite!’
Pig cried, ‘You brute! I might have known!’
Then, picking up the telephone,
He dialed as quickly as he could
The number of red Riding Hood.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Who’s speaking? Who?
Oh, hello, Piggy, how d’you do?’
Pig cried, ‘I need your help, Miss Hood!
Oh help me, please! D’you think you could?’
‘I’ll try of course,’ Miss Hood replied.
‘What’s on your mind…?’ ‘A Wolf!’ Pig cried.
‘I know you’ve dealt with wolves before,
And now I’ve got one at my door!’

‘My darling Pig,’ she said, ‘my sweet,
That’s something really up my street.
I’ve just begun to wash my hair.
But when it’s dry, I’ll be right there.’

A short while later, through the wood,
Came striding brave Miss Riding Hood.
The Wolf stood there, his eyes ablaze,
And yellowish, like mayonnaise.
His teeth were sharp, his gums were raw,
And spit was dripping from his jaw.
Once more the maiden’s eyelid flickers.
She draws the pistol from her knickers.
Once more she hits the vital spot,
And kills him with a single shot.
Pig, peeping through the window, stood
And yelled, ‘Well done, Miss Riding Hood!’

Ah, Piglet, you must never trust
Young ladies from the upper crust.
For now, Miss Riding Hood, one notes,
Not only has two wolfskin coats,
But when she goes from place to place,



Poets’ Corner – some more prose!

Hi again – here is some more verse from Christina Lynn – don’t forget ANYONE can send their poems to me – they don’t have to be “original” – perhaps something you have liked and want to share with other members?  As long as I have an author’s name…….

Entries to:  meridianseniorsforum@gmail.com.



When I was young and very agile

I had a bike on which to travel

And then a motor-scooter I did get

But in bad weather, I’d get wet.

So earning then, and with some cash

A car I bought, cut quite a dash

I could now arrive in style

And cars I had for quite a while.

Now car and I are getting older

On the roads you must be bolder

‘Cos they are now so very busy

This traffic puts me in a tizzy!

When the car behind me gets too close

I’m sure they do it on purpose.

Just because I’m old and grey

They seem to think I’m in the way!

I’ve reached the age for something slower

Mobility scooter, though less power

Will suit me for the next few years

I’ll travel safer with less fears.

Though pavements which are most uneven

And obstacles can be a problem.

In “lockdown time” ’twas four o’clock

Not too far, just round the block

For our exercise we went

Me in road Vic on pavement

Social distancing applied

With regulations we complied –

We had not gone so very far

When I was stopped, a police car

Drew up beside me, questions asked

“Where are your number plates?” I gasped

And answered that they were not needed

For I the law had always heeded.

Insurance certificate carried with me

Perhaps that document he’d like to see?

But by then he’d had enough

I look back and laugh

‘Cos I was doing tortoise pace

On a scooter you don’t race.

Of speeding cars I’d heard a few

You’d think he’d better things to do!

So this incident deserved a verse

I think I may have written worse!

By:  Christina Lynn

Poets’ Corner – another from Marilyn!

As in the previous poem by Marilyn Nolan this was written when she worked for The Argus and The Leader, and features Tom – again!


(to be sung to the tune of “Postman Pat”)


Loader Tom, Loader Tom, Loader Tom and his red pom-pom,

Early in the evening

When all the rest are leaving,

He loads up all the Leaders in his van.


Loader Tom, Loader Tom, Loader Tom and his red pom-pom

He loves his bright red jacket

It cost the firm a packet

He even wears it when he goes to bed.


Everyone knows his red and white van,

All his drop-offs cheer as he drives to meet them,

Maybe, you can never be sure

They’ll be knock, ring, Leaders at your door.


Loader Tom, Loader Tom, Loader Tom and his red pom pom,

When his day is ended,

All Leaders have been “sended”,

He parks his van and goes and has a pint.