Vince Horsman
ABOUT :
Vince has been writing poems for some decades now. Much of his work is humorous as he sees it his duty to amuse and entertain. His experience as a first aider and a short period of primary school teaching have profoundly influenced his work. This varies from an account of a fatal road accident based on actual events to his funny poems aimed at young children. Often his work has an underlying moral dimension such as dealing with fear. These have proved popular with primary school children. Vince met Roger McGough at Braintree library in the nineties and asked his advice about writing for children. Roger suggested entering the world of the child. Vince has done his best to adopt this approach.
The Wore and Blitts in Peckham Rye
I dunno wot its all abat,
lotsa bangs an iss an at.
We woz in der tin shed overnite.
Wen we got up – wotta sight!
Por Jimmy Johnson’s gaff woz gonn,
flattned by a Nazzy bom.
Wun of iss shoes lise onna grand.
No sine of im but iss dogs arand.
It is der Blitts, so sez my mum.
But Nana sez it woz der Hun.
Doodle bugs cum dan from der skie.
I juss sit and wunda wye.
Dad’s givin Jerry a bluddy nows.
Serv im flippin rite I spose.
I juss wont viss wore to end,
so we ken be togevver agenn.
At nite it looks lyke funder an lightnin.
Like fyrewurks but mutch maw frightnin.
Untill ven I wunda wye,
we ave der Blitts in Peckham Rye.
© Vince Horsman 2016
ODE TO A TAKE-AWAY
I see you hanging on my arm.
Neat brown paper oozing charm.
Resplendent and silver-cased,
you typified the best in taste.
You were prawn crackers, when last we met.
Your rich perfume, I smell it yet.
Chop suey with ribs to spare.
You touched my lips without a care.
During the most playful hour,
I found that you were sweet and sour.
You even had prawn balls, I'd say.
Which must have made you walk that way.
16, 30, 24,
There aren't numbers like that any more.
A shadow of your former self,
lies in my fridge upon the shelf.
You lasted but one night my friend.
Then your existence reached an end.
Life is empty without you, how
I miss you so - at least for now.
A rose by any other name
You take-aways are all the same
And after all is said and done,
Quite soon I'll want another one!
© Vince Horsman 2016
THE NEW PET
He cannot woof nor yet meow.
To growl or purr, he knows not how.
He chases cats and dogs alike,
bit a car and ate a bike
He really isn't very keen
on fetching sticks. Its not his scene.
What he is we're not too sure,
with a tail, two flippers, and a paw.
His toilet practices are crude.
He dines each night on hamster food!
He hurtles round and round his cage,
flies from his perch in a lively rage.
We even called our local vet
to identify our pet.
In despair we phoned the zoo,
and even tried to call "Who's Who"
No-one seemed to know his breed.
Fish, beast, or fowl? - We had no lead.
We always loved him, just the same.
Our mystery pet that had no name.
Once he gave us all a fright.
Howling at the moon all night.
We rose next day to a deathly quiet.
Quite a change from the normal riot!
Our pet was gone without a trace,
a sombre silence in his place.
He never did return to us,
to chew a bike or chase a bus
So when the autumn moon is full.
The shadows grey and winds blow cool.
You may spot our hairy gnome.
Just pat his head and send him home!
© Vince Horsman 2016
