To vaguely amuse
And banish the blues
Writing clerihews
I would choose.

Mr Merryhew
Would ferry you
Across the Thames at Bray
On a tea tray.

I am the word juggler.
I juggle the words
like swords.
I slice sense
with poetic license.

Newly baked and fresh today
Eat while hot or take away.

The light through the blind is a poem,

the way it illuminates air.

And the shadows that fall

on the floor and the wall

are signs that a poem is there.

The man sitting on the settee,
stroking a cat and watching TV
isn't me.
I am the settee.

In the beginning was the word
and the word is ours:

the names of places,
the names of flowers,
the name of names,
words are ours.