Wednesday, 22 February 2012


Here are three short poems very recently written all completely different in subject matter etc.

Messieure Le Chat

I still think of the Novotel at Collegien
As the hotel ‘With the cat’
Messieure Le Chat
The ginger and white
Friendly thieving puss
Whom I would often fuss
As he sauntered around
The outside tables
Looking for scraps
And tasty morsels
The shrieks and howls
From the diners
As he delivered
A half eaten mouse
To thier tables
In exchange perhaps
For a sausage
Or a piece of steak
Or a rasher of bacon
Placed upon his plate
Outside the restaurant
On the patio
His croaky meow
Used to resound
But sadly today
No trace can be found
Perhaps he’s moved on
To another hotel
Messieure Le Chat
I bid you farewell
I shall miss you.

State of the Art

State of the art industrial park
‘Hi Tech’ industries
You really don’t expect
A traveller’s camp
To be tucked in
To the heart of these
Yet again
Perhaps you should
It isn’t after all
Your neighbourhood
And there are so few places
For them to go
As long as it’s not in my back yard
Don’t you know?
These people are trouble
If somewhat down on thier luck
And quite frankly
I couldn’t give a fuck
And that’s part of the problem!

Wandering Ghost

We wander like ghosts
Around impersonal hotels
When alone away on business
It could be anywhere in the world
Especially if it’s airport
To hotel to factory
To hotel
To sit alone
For your evening meal
If you’re lucky there may be
A friendly face at the bar
Someone with whom to converse
Someone just like you are
It’s more fun when with colleagues
There’s so much more you can do
But when all alone
When it’s just you
You become
A wandering ghost.

Grant Meaby

Sunday, 5 February 2012


We set off on our journey
With Kevin at the wheel
The car loaded up to bursting point
At last this trip was real

You’d think a nice country pub
Would be easy so to find
For a Friday lunch was needed
Food and beer were on our mind
 Each place that we stopped at
No longer did lunchtime grub
So we pressed on with our journey
Until we found a splendid pub

If you’re ever up in Crowland
The George and Angel is a must
The food was splendid and not expensive
With good beers that you can trust
Crowland is a strange place
Deep inside the fens
Trinity Bridge in the village centre
Where rivers once did bend

Refreshed we continued
On our way to Butlins in Skegness
For the festival of Rock and Blues
And Fellowship to address
 Any fears we may have had
About Butlins and chalets
Or facilities or food or anything
Were quickly blown away
Everything was splendid
Everything was just fine
Everything was set
For a damn good splendid time
The music was just awesome
So many stars old and new
And so many friendly people
United by their love of Rock & Blues
 We met old friends from everywhere
And made new friends along the way
We danced we drank we sang had fun
What more can I say?
 Kevin, Chris, Paul & Grant
Philippa & Fender Teddy too
Had a splendid time in old Skegness
So let’s keep it deeply blue.

Another thing that Butlin's at Skegness is famous for is its ducks!

Skeggy Ducks

Whilst at the Rock and Blues Festival
Up there in deepest Skegness
We grew partial to the ducks round our chalet
They all seemed to like our address!

Every morning they came around early
Looking for scraps or for food
To ignore them wasn’t an option
To have done so would have been rude

So we decided to give them all names
These ducks that we saw every day
There was L’Orange, Crispy & Hoi-sin
But I’m so sorry to say

Fillet of Breast didn’t like his name
And Bread-crumbs no not at all
But Strips in a Wrap and Ducky Kebab
Seemed to be having a ball

Yes we became very fond of the ducks
That flocked to our chalet each day
But you won’t see them round there again
Because, yum yum, they’ve all gone away!

Of course, we were not alone, Philippa came too!

Philippa Blue – A Blues Song!

Let me tell you all
‘bout this gal I know
She’s innocent
Pure as the driven snow
She’ll make you happy
She’ll make you blue
If you mistreat her
She’ll go down on you!

Oh she’s a babe
She’s such a doll
She’s Philippa Hole

The sign on her box
Say’s “Boy’s Night Out”
That’s somewhat perverse
Without a doubt
Her seals are intact
And that’s such a sin
For she’s surely made
For a boys night in!

Oh she’s a babe
She’s such a doll
She’s Philippa Hole

Oh she’s a babe
She’s such a doll
She’s Philippa Hole!

What a splendid weekend it was, great festival, great facilities, food, fellowship & fun!
 Until the next time, cool runnings one and all.
Grant Meaby, February 2012