Baiting The Hook by Gwynn Dawson



The languid lure of luscious words.

Chocolate creams on the fat ladies diet.

One more,

Just one more!

No-one will notice.

Drippingly sweet,

Breathtakingly complete.

Fingers fumbling,

Resolutions tumbling.

Ah! Forbidden taste!

Damn the waste.

Rhino Dirge by Corinna Turner

Hairy horns are made for wearing

by the rhinos on their faces,

Where the handsome creatures

use them as nature intended.

That hairy proboscis has real meaning

only to that ancient lineage.


If you doubt your own virility so much,

Powdered rhino horn won’t help you touch

the false heights that you wrongly perceive,

that hairy horn will let you achieve.


Leave the rhino to enjoy their lives,

Think only of them as your children.

Would you chop off your childs’ face?

Shoot your child and let it bleed to death?

Just so you could get an erection

or some false idea of health?

Just so you could make some money?

Leaving the once regal body,

bleeding, dying painfully and lonely?

It’s not clever or even funny.


I wonder, can you hold your head up high?

When you look upon that horn,

That was harshly chopped and torn,

From the prehistoric form?

Cruelly harvested in Africa,

Can you?

Can you?

Squares, Beware by Peter Simon, father of Daphne Jaaback

( written in the 1950’s)


Stovepipe trousers, flouncy skirts

Greasy faces, dirty shirts,

Smoking dagga, drinking brandy,

Rocking, rolling –  legs all bandy.

That’s  the modern trend of youth.

Expressionless, morose, uncouth.

Slouching, leering, hands in pockets,

Combs protruding from their ”sockets”.

Girls seductive – swaying hips

Fag ends drooping from their lips

Males, “so called’ with mops of hair

Duckies, Teddies  everywhere.


Innocents Take Care    by Daphne Jaaback, a modern version


Half mast trousers, hugging tights,

Heavy piercings,  tattooed sights,

Downing shots and sniffing snorts,

Texting messages with quick retorts.

That’s the modern trend of youth.

Behaviour casual and oft uncouth,

Steroid pumped and sauntering by,

Giving girls the beady eye,

They  ,in turn, on each teetering heel,

Make no bones about how they feel.

Males with  coiffed spiky hair atop,

And females  some with  multicoloured mop.

Mermaid’s Sing by Corinna Turner

Mermaid’s Sing   by Corinna Turner  in response to the poem below

I grow old … I grow old
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.


Mermaids Sing
Of course they’ll sing for you.
You just have to close your eyes,
Imagine the view.

Mermaid girls with no thighs,
Beautiful breasts,
Shiny, curling, waving tails,
[Who cares about the scales],

Trilling their songs, oh so true,
Visions of mind at your own behest!

Octopus by Daphne Jaaback

An animal that appeals to me

An octopus, though tough and slimy

Has eight legs so very handy

Worth  much more than a stack of candy


My husband dear is hard of ear

And he keeps his cell phone near

Should a caller not be listed

I take over,  by him insisted


A day arose when his cell rang

I took over as was the plan

It was then that Skype came in to play

And my  cell did join the fray


I kid you not when I relate

The landline then did join the debate

A knock there was at our front door

No more , no more did I implore


Eight hands would have been a solution

To hold the devices and sooth the commotion

To take down messages and open the door

But an octopus might have frightened the caller!

Placing a bandaid over a gaping wound by Brenda-Joan Payne


Placing a bandaid over a gaping wound
Whilst crying out, ‘it’s too soon’

Trying to hide the flesh, the pain
Mind’s a mess, it’s insane

Just want to be wrapped in a cocoon
Embraced by the beams of the moon

Hushed to sleep in midst of care
Never having my soul to bare

Can’t gaze too long at blood and gore
It’s such a waste with nothing to score

So fold it up within my being
Cover well, no sight seeing

Tuck it deep, deep inside
And trust that it all will subside

The Snow Leopard by Bob McMahon

Rare And Beautiful

Silent As The Falling Snow

Solitary Creature

Elusive Cat, Heart Beating Slow


Measured Step, Slow And Tense

Waits And Waits To Be Unseen

Elegant Snow Leopard

Regal Grace – A Feline Queen


Sleek And Fierce

Majestic Creature Free To Roam

Imposing Yet Serene

Perpetual Snow Her Only Home


Power And Stealth

Weapons To Face Her Foe

Brave And Wild

The Princess Of The Snow

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