STEPHEN
SCORER
This is where you will find all the rhyming efforts that I have penned for the local writing group that I love to attend. The Whitchurch Writers Group has helped me to develop my poetic side a lot more.
Oh that was cold
It is said that a dish,
That may contain some fish,
Is best when it is served cold.
To be avenged, so someone wished.
A fish that used to be lively and gold,
Now lays still, their belly had been rolled.
My fish was once oh so sweet,
Revenge I will have to be told!
No longer will it swim to greet...
Or bob happily for a flaky treat.
Who could have done this deathly deed?
An avenger they are going to meet.
Now to act with some speed,
Clearing the tank of its entire weed.
Only to find the claw of a cat!
Revenging my fish, so they can be freed.
Finding that cat sitting on my mat,
The pussy wouldn’t stop for idle chitchat.
Now revenge was had for my dead fish,
Because that the cat did go and scat.
An Interlocking Rubaiyat Poem
"This was my first poem, on my first visit to this wonderful group of poets and writers, Revenge was the theme."
Money Making Money!
Does money maketh the man
toiling away all day in jobs
that just don't
pay.
Whilst some
leave degrading jobs
their names soiled, while
rich men maketh the money.
​
And now for a bit of fun, Press Play!
Passing Boats, No More!
A meeting of two complete strangers
Like two boats passing at sea.
The chance of knowing one another
Are very small like a tiny flea.
Strangers now looking at each other
Like boats signalling with lights and flags.
Those faces unrecognisable in any stormy weather
And the names remain blank on those jolly tags.
A chance meeting for the two men
Like any safe port after a storm.
Coming together like words from a pen
Trying hard to stay calm and conform.
This meeting by chance was as it was to be
Like the boats secured safely at the side of the quay.
Their faces and bodies now knew of each other
Finally, two men can now become lovers.
The theme of this poem was 'A Chance Meeting', I used a personal tribute.
H.O.P.E
Hard coloured bottles bobbing up and down
Opened plastics buried deep under the ground
Plumes of poisonous fumes rise up, filling our skies
Each day the Ozone disappears, but at least we try!
Hashtagging about it, this is our way
Overlooking the animals that die each day
People are to blame, it’s solely our fault, that this
Enchantingly beautiful planet will receive its final kiss.
High up on Earths icy tops, that are rapidly melting
Oceans, seas, lakes, rivers and streams, they all keep on rising
Priceless rainforests that have been cut down in numbers
Eventually forcing Mother Nature to return to her slumber.
How could we do this, to a beauty old as time
Openly admitting that we are responsible for this crime
Praying for forgiveness, we could ask the pope
Extreme measures will lead us all to help, we hope!
Help
Our
Planet
Earth.
The theme was 'Hope' and I decided to write about the recent concern over the plastic waste, especially out in our oceans and seas. I'm not sure if I have invented a new type of Acrostic in this piece, it has been noted that it is a four acrostic within an acrostic poem, but then the last part is also an acrostic, so is it a five acrostic in an acrostic poem, I will call it a 'Quintcrostic'.
I enjoyed writing this poem on Houdini, the theme or prompt was 'Escape'.
​
Milking It!
He called it his original act
In a milk can that was quite compact.
He would have no need for a bikini
For this was Houdini, popping out like a genie.
The trick he called, the milk can escape
Performing this live, just to amaze.
First starting out just to be handcuffed
Then breaking free, with the water flushed.
Inviting the audience to hold their breath
Though failing would mean a drowning death.
Asking them to stop for as long as they can
Hang on and hold out with this magic man.
He was soon becoming a worldly sensation
Astounding all, over the tricks duration.
Performing now inside the can and a box
That was chained and then padlocked.
Death though is inevitable to us all
No escape from this, no magic ball.
In lasting words that would seem so inviting
No more please, “I’m tired of fighting”.
Feeling Bare
My first stand
I am feeling fine
‘NOT’
If you struggle
Imagine them naked
‘A LOT’
I look up and
To my surprise
‘They Are’
But even worst
To their surprise
‘I AM’
This was written for my first workshop with the group, it was whilst the Blackberry Fair was being held and it was run by the amazing Emma Purshouse.
Beauty Has Her Way
I was feeling excruciating pain whilst inside I felt a beautiful calm ocean with the sun glistening lightly on top of every ripple.
Ripples that seemed apt, whilst once peaceful; now they were angry and rough as my life seemed to be in the centre of a violent raging storm.
My human life was beautifully fading away, just like with every ripple of those calm waters, only to be taken over by this raging bloodthirsty monster, finally after that angry storm inside as had its fill will the desire to feed subside back to those calm waters just like before.
"This was a 100-word story that I wrote for a local writing group that I go to, the theme was Faded Beauty."