Whimsical Wednesday


To be fair every day is whimsical for me but I now dedicate every Wednesday for a random rhyme from my random mind…..enjoy 😂

Carl 🤖

The Soup 

Scrapings from the bottom of the chicken coop,
Catfish fins and dogs eyebrows in my soup.

Add some toe nails and a pinch of sand,
the best tasting soup in all of the land.

Sweat from a bat, tears from a snail,
trump of a hybrid lama and a bunny’s cotton tail.

Two more ingredients to finish this fine concoction,
Shrimps elbows and some baby lotion.

Two hours of simmering, some cornflour to thicken,
the spoiled soup had turned to gloop, like someone had been sick in.

© C Webber 2017

The boy who could read her


She knew not of his inner being, she just did not understand.
He could read her, just from the delicate touch of a soft wanting hand.

He wanted her to know him, he craved it everyday.
He tried to pull her close, she didn’t understand and would move away.

Delicate was his soul, just love him and watch him grow,
Yet alas she did not see, she just did not know.

Words of laughter and love, sprinkle water on his growing self,
Opinion reigns, no growth, placed up away on a shelf.

His pen was his sword but all it did was bleed,
the boy who read her, but she knew not of his need.

© C Webber 2017

The Crooked Road


Along the crooked road,
hopped a crooked toad.
Looking for some crickets, to munch on for his dinner.

But along the crooked road,
there stood a crooked witch,
and she was looking for a toad, for her dinner.

So on crooked road,
there stood the crooked toad,
and a crooked witch.

But there could only be one winner,
both hunting for their dinner.

Like David and Goliath,
my money would have been on the witch,
but the toad pulled out a bazooka,
and blew the witch into bits.

So on the crooked road,
stood a full and bloated crooked toad,
and a spattering of witch who had been blown to bits.

© C Webber 2017

His gifting


Now and again he caught a glimpse of something not quite real,
A vision of things not open to all, but something he could also feel.

From a young age he knew he was different, but not in a way that was the best,
He never did fit in with the crowd, or go along with the rest.

A sensitive soul, emotions ran wild, but not externally for all to see,
Feelings transfered and compassion was offered but still he could not be.

Acceptance he wanted but never did gain, outcast as long as he would live,
A waste of a gift, god given he felt, to others he just wanted to give.

There was something more, on this earth he could see, but his efforts they just kept on failing,
Drained of his life, he gave up hope, his coffin lid they just kept on nailing.

© C Webber 2017

Walking on grass


Crystals sat atop, adorning each glossy blade of grass,
But I stepped upon them and fell straight on to my ass.

As pretty as it looked it caused me so much pain,
I will never walk upon that crystal topped grass again.

I came across some grass, this time was topped with jelly,
I stepped upon it and fell forward onto my belly.

As pretty as it looked it caused me so much pain,
I will never walk upon that jelly topped grass again.

I came across some grass, it was topped with bread,
I stepped upon it and fell and banged my head.

As pretty as it looked it caused me so much pain,
I will never walk upon that bread topped grass again.

© C Webber 2017

*this is for Maria who you can find at superwifeandmummy 

Check out her blog its great

His fate


Quiet in demenour his heart was pure,
Soft and gentle, would be a great father for sure.

Their love grew strong and one day they wed,
Intent on fulfilling the vows that they had said.

The next few years were fun as the honeymoon lived on,
Partnership of love, never faltered and grew strong.

Until this day when time stopped still,
news like no other a terrible blow.

Surely it wasn’t,  please God no!

The doctor confirmed and he was given a date,
She sank into oblivion as she realised his fate.

The years had been special, but these months much more so,
Memories of life they decided to sow.

They went too quick and on his final day,
God left a message before he took him away.

A child for the father who was soon to leave,

A softening goodbye, tears wiped on the sleave.

© C Webber 2017