Size doesn't matter, width or height,
nor favoured hand, be it left or right.
Muscles don't count, tattooed or clear,
nor tone of skin softly smooth or sere.
Clothes are irrelevant, rough or formal,
bust size also, enhanced or normal.
Don't bother about the type of hair,
straight or curly, sleek or bare !
nor the colour, black, red, fair -
the person you're looking at isn't there.
Ignore the skin whether dark or pale
and also the gender, male or female,
shape of nose or size of chin -
the person themselves is somewhere within.
Perfect teeth are just for feeding,
stick-out ears are not worth heeding.
That shape of eyes doesn't matter is clear;
likewise colour but you're getting near.
We all know appearances tell lies
but look more closely into the eyes.
Through the pupils you'll find the guide -
the person you want is deep inside.

Poetry on the page is almost dead;
very few will read it anymore.
No-one now needs to see sounds in their head,
well, not many young folk that's for sure.

They get their poems by way of charting pop
never really knowing that it's there.
Sometimes lyrics help tunes reach the top
showing real poetic flair.

Disciplined by music's steady rhythm
and savvy about the appeal of rhyme,
wordsmiths learn by experimenting with 'em,
creating poems time after time.

The only snag with poetic recognition
is the narrow range of topics sung about.
Most pop music only deals with passion
which is why those lyricists lack clout.

I like to think of myself as far-seeing,
not stuck in the past but pretty progressive,
ahead of my time and forward looking,
clearly self-starting and very proactive.

Indeed it's clear when I have some chore
or job around the house to do -
I seem to get to steps three and four
without considering steps one and two.

I mulch my asparagus in the Spring
because it helps the Growmore in
but also because of the little 'cherries' -
it buries berries.

Dementia might be a blessing in disguise
concealing the progress of her sad demise.
Unknowing, there's no need to tell her lies
and surely better being happy than wise.

My personal opinion is, he said,
school discipline has gone to pot.
Too many bleeding hearts in charge.
Too many people lost the plot.
Of course kids like the feeling of power
that comes from getting their own way.
If you take away the threat of force
"Don't you dare touch me" they say.
Detentions aren't a quick enough answer.
A clip round the ear is what they need.
Expulsions are an admission of failure.
You've got to make them take some heed.
I got caned when I was at school.
Six of the best across the bum.
It didn't do me any harm at all.
A bit of pain never hurt anyone.

The old Two Ronnies class-ic sketch

was visual and verbal

from posh through proper to poor wretch

light-hearted more than hurtful.

But words alone could make a dour

social rapper into a star

joking the names we use for our

grand-dad, grandpa or papa.