The Soul's Retreat


Dear Easter Bunny

by on Aug.09, 2010, under Humorous, Poetry

I’m applying for the vacancy,
Because I’ve heard you’re sick.
A poor bedridden bunny,
The thought cuts me to the quick!

The ad says ‘must be sensitive’
And ‘able and agile.’
‘Must have a sense of humour
And a natty fashion style’.

‘Must be able to look bunny-like’
Well I sure have the teeth!
As for ears, I’m sure they’ll stretch,
And for the ‘underneath’…

Hey, my feet are size eleven
And I have wonderful legs!
And as for my bunny skills,
You should see me juggle eggs!

I’ll need transport from coast to coast
Fast as the speed of sound
So like every clever bunny
I will use ‘the underground’.

Oh please consider me
When choosing your replacement.
(My bunny suit is airing
On a hanger in the basement).

For your answer I’ll be waiting
With wild anticipation.
I can be your bunny double,
That is no eggsaggeration!

~ ~ ~

This was written for a competion on where we had to write a poetic application to stand in for the Easter Bunny, who was in hospital!

Leave a Comment more...

Silenced Citrus!

by on Aug.04, 2010, under Humorous, Poetry

There I was,
In the blazing sun,
Thinking my life had just begun.
When this big brown hand
Pulls me out of my tree,
With no apology
Or by your leave!
My world

I was squashed in a crate
With the lid nailed down!
And we rode in a lorry
Through the middle of town,
Till we came to the docks
And we saw the big ships.
Got loaded in the hold
(Nearly crushing my pips!)
We were all squashed in

Then I ended up
On a market stall
Got squished and squeezed
(Why do people maul
The items they’re buying,
The way they do?)
Well this customer came –
Said ‘I’ll have a few’
Then stood talking about
The weather!

So here I am
In this fancy bowl
On a polished table
Thinking ‘what’s my role’
When this kid walks up
And reaches out,
Picks me up in his hand,
And I want to shout
As he opens his mouth


Directors Note:  No oranges were harmed in the production of this poem!

Leave a Comment more...

The Sad Tale of Polly O’Rennick

by on Aug.04, 2010, under Humorous, Poetry

At the foot of the hill she gathered her wits,
She wanted that pixie – she loved him to bits.
She flitted around drinking nectar from flowers,
To pluck up the courage – she’d been trying for hours!

The nectar was sweet and hallucinogenic,
And that little fairy (named Polly O’Rennick)
Was soon on her way to being high as a kite.
She must get her man before the daylight.

She gathered up gossamer, petals and dew,
And stitched them together – what a beautiful hue!
She bathed in a puddle, made face packs of mud,
And created  perfume from a tender rose-bud

She dressed in the finery she had just made.
She had to look sexy, she aimed to get laid!
The thought of his body now made her toes curl,
And that potent brew had her head in a whirl

All ready for action, she had two more sips.
It gave her ‘Dutch Courage’ and she licked her lips,
Excited with thoughts of the fun to be had
With that sexy, most wonderful, Faerie lad.

But alas, those last sips took her over the limit.
Unaware of the strength and the potency in it,
She tottered and staggered, then fell, in a heap,
And without more ado – she was fast asleep!

The picture is reproduced with the kind permission of Marcus Phillips. Please go to to see more of his fabulous work!

Leave a Comment :, , more...

Looking for something?

Use the form below to search the site:

Still not finding what you're looking for? Drop a comment on a post or contact us so we can take care of it!


A few highly recommended websites...


All entries, chronologically...