Tag Archives: poem

The Earth Is An Even Harsher Mistress

30 Mar

The Earth Is An Even Harsher Mistress (A poem) by Ray Daley

The man in the moon came down too soon, he burned up in the atmosphere,
It was said by and large by the people in charge, it was because he was a queer.
The man in the moon played the pink bassoon, left a guy alone back on Earth,
And the lobbyists said they were glad he was dead, as they felt he had no worth.
The man in the moon has found some room, A place to call his own,
By faking his loss and not giving a toss, his feelings will never be known.
The man in the moon won’t be alone soon, His partner’s on his way,
So they’ll be together, forever and ever, who really cares if they’re gay?


Protest (a poem)

30 Jan

Protest (a poem) by Ray Daley.

If you’re having to protest every other weekend,
And your Leader’s breaking laws only Gods could mend.

It’s time to realize you’re no longer free,
And this land isn’t your land, or a safe place to be.

When the Lady gave light to the huddled masses,
People never cared about different classes.

Muslim bans and a wall, Brought to you by the Donald,
Don’t need Golden Arches to see he’s a clown, like Ronald.

So if you really care about Freedom Of Speech.
You don’t need a clue about who to impeach.


Swimming In Jelly [a silly poem]

17 Dec

Swimming In Jelly, By Ray Daley

Let’s all go swimming, go swimming in jelly, Jilly & Jimmy & Bob,
Just don’t crazy, don’t invite Daisy & certainly don’t invite Rob!
We 3 can have fun & when we’re all done we can have trifle for tea.
So let’s all go swimming, go swimming in jelly, what a wonderful thing it’ll be.


The Final Trump [a poem]

8 Dec
The Final Trump, by Ray Daley.
America’s retractions,
Of Freedom in fractions,
Sounds unlikely to exist.
But if done so slow,
That the people don’t know,
Then no-one is likely to resist.
The End. (It’ll be here before you know it.)

Nursery Rhymes for Modern Times [poem]

17 Sep

Nursery Rhymes for Modern Times:
18 September 2011

Oh the Grand Old Duke Of York, He had 10,000 men,
But that was before the military cuts & now he’s only got 100.
And their all in Afghanistan for the 4th time.

1990 (an RAF Poem)

4 Jul
1990 By Ray Daley (C) 21 Sept 2015
What were you doing in the summer of love?
When the world was all raving & high on drugs.
I was finding it wasn’t all wine & Stone Roses,
Where bullshit baffled brains, we were up to our noses.
So what were you doing in the summer love?
Watching jets buzz the Black Hills like seagulls above.
Buried deep in A.P’s and progress tests,
And 6 months without sleep; just a sequence of rests.
So what was I doing in the summer of love?
Just biding my time in an almost Welsh grove

Little boxes (a poem)

29 Jun

Wed, 22 May 2013

Little boxes, little boxes,
full of shoes and socksies,
straight from little boxes.

Full of bix and chocksies,
scoffing in our socksies,
out of little boxes.

Also lots of clocksies,
going ticks and tocksies,
inside little boxes.

All in little boxes, crazier than foxes.

Forget fezes or bowties. Boxes are cool ;-P

What Will I Be? (poem)

29 Jun

17 Feb 2013

What Will I Be?

What will I be when I grow up?
A fireman, a soldier, a candlestick holder.
What will I be when I grow up?
A driver, a drover, a man who falls over.
What will I be when I grow up?
A tinker, a tailor, a world famous sailor.
What will I be when I grow up?

I will never grow up, just older.

You Don’t Know Jack (a poem)

29 Jun

You Don’t Know Jack (c) Ray Daley

This is the castle that Jack stole.
This is the cat that starved on the mat that died in the castle that Jack stole.
These are the bones that rotted alone, that stood in the castle that Jack stole.
That was the goose laying Golden eggs sliced open in greed & totally dead inside the castle that Jack stole.
There stands the wreckage that once was a beanstalk that led to the castle that Jack stole.
Remember the castle that Jack stole.

Because the winners write the stories.

Space (a poem)

29 Jun

Space © 12/09/02 R. P. Daley.

I’ve been shipped off to Pluto Second class,
Got bored of playing cards to make the time pass.
Perhaps I’ll write a letter to my folks,
Be nice for them if I left out the pilot’s awful jokes.
The worst thing is we aren’t even half way,
And thinking up new diversions every day.
So I’m in a rocket flying through space,
Kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Either listening to my heartbeat or the engines drone.
Yet to meet any aliens – Are we still alone?
On a ship on a voyage to the final frontier,
But I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing here!

The End.