A bit more treble,
A bit less bass,

Take off the reverb,
Give the sound space,

I quite like the chorus,
It’s a catchy little tune,

Pity you can’t hear it,
This is just a cartoon !

My Car

My car is really rather basic,
It isn’t very smart,
You have to coax the gear-stick,
And the glove-box falls apart!

I cannot claim it’s fuel efficient,
Nor really very fast,
The driver’s door is slightly bent,
It wasn’t ever built to last.

The heater often doesn’t make much heat,
The paint is badly scratched,
There’s stains on nearly every seat,
And the body work is patched!

But it gets me where I want to go,
Whether rain or shine,
And best of all is that I know,
It isn’t leased, it’s mine!


What is matter?
And does it matter
That there is matter
And also anti-matter?

For that matter
does it also matter
that there is more matter
than there is anti-matter?

And should it matter
That we think of matter
As the only matter
That will ever matter?

And might it matter
That my thoughts on matter
Are not made of matter
They’re simply thoughts?


Who would have thought
That my ideas about thought
Would by some be thought
Decidedly odd?

Since my view on thought
Having given it much thought
Is that what I have thought
Matters to God!


Weather comes and weather goes,
Sometimes it rains, sometimes it blows,
Sometimes there’s a winter freezing chill,
Sometimes it’s humid and hot and still,
Sometimes the sun is shining bright,
Sometimes the clouds are black as night,
Sometimes it’s just dull and grey,
I wonder what weather we’ll have today?

More To Life

There’s more to life than washing up,
Or standing in a queue,
Or working all week nine-to-five,
To pay all monies due.

There’s more to life than endless soaps,
And dramas on TV,
Or weeding all the flower beds,
Or mowing round the tree.

There’s more to life than playing sport,
Or lying in the sun,
Or dancing ’til the early hours,
Or other types of fun.

There’s more to life than all we do,
Or say or hear or see,
We also have an opportunity,
The chance to simply be.

To be the type of person,
That we’d all like to meet,
Whilst on our way to paradise,
Or walking down the street,

To be the type of oddball,
Who as often as they draw breath,
Aspires to know the love of God,
Like that man from Nazareth.

Work Day

Up at dawn – Stifle yawn,
Cup of tea – Bite of pastry,
Catch the train – Late again,
Office greeting – In a meeting,
Twelve fifteen – Work canteen,
Afternoon – Papers strewn,
Work computer – Then commuter,
Train delay – Like yesterday,
Home at eight – Dinner plate,
Watch the news – And interviews,
Sleepy head – Go to bed.

Up at dawn …


There’s lots and lots of stuff,
All piled within this space,
It all looks rather jumbled,
Though most things do have a place.

Some is packed in boxes,
Some of it is bagged,
And for basic thermal reasons,
The tank and pipes are lagged.

It’s always rather chilly,
Stacking Christmas bits away,
And hot when getting bags,
To pack clothes for holiday .

The rafters hold the roof up,
Plus the junk I want to keep,
In this strange and eerie place,
Only feet from where I sleep.

Other rhymes in the (approximate) form of limericks available at musing75.com/limericks

Audio also available at soundcloud.com/musing75