This is the archive for Dave's Poetry - at the moment individual Poems are shown below. 

However, as the number of poems grows they will be organised into collections.

Once They're Gone, They're Gone



Roll up, roll up, get yours while stocks last.
A genuine, never-to-be repeated offer.
It’s not bankrupt stock, they’re not counterfeit,
Once they’re gone, they’re gone.

It wasn’t meant to end like this.
He was supposed to make a couple of charges and singe my beard,
And I was supposed to smack him vigorously on that bit just above

his shoulder where the scales are very thick.
He’d roar, she’d scream and I’d sweep past him
And with one hand lift her onto my steed.

I knew it wasn’t going to go wrong, I had this feeling all day.
You shouldn’t under rehearse these events.
People want their money’s worth.
Well they certainly got it.
The last bloody dragon in Christendom
And I had to kill him.

It was the knave what got him.
I told him not to tie the rope too tight.
She ends up still tied to the post, half-naked,
I’m on the ground clutching a handful of white chiffon.

And there, over there, with a great gobby tear running down his pale green cheek,
is Derek, with a ten foot red and white barber’s pole stuck up his arse.

He left me with a haunting look,

As if to say,“ Georgio, you bastard, you never paid me for that last gig”
And then it was over.
What am I going to do now?
Lions don’t breathe fire,
Crocodiles don’t stand on their back legs and bellow.
There’s so little call for old-fashioned melodrama these days.
People are just too sophisticated, or cynical.

Ah well, must be going, the tourist chariots are arriving.
Roll up, roll up, genuine dragon-skin handbags,
Get yours while stocks last.
This is a never-to-be repeated offer.
Once they’re gone, they’re gone!


St George’s Day, 23 April 2006.

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