Monthly Archives: August 2013

A thing that’s a thingy is sometimes a thing
And a thingy that’s a thing is surely a thing
But a thing that’s a thing is not always a thingy
And a thing that’s a thing isn’t always a thingy

So what is a thing? Is it also a thingy?
What about things that are things but not thingies?
And also those things that are thingies, not things
Are they things too, because they are thingies?

But things are not things and they aren’t always thingies
And thingies aren’t things – they could be just thingies
But things that are things are most definitely thingies
While thingies that are things, maybe they’re thingies?

So what makes up a thing? Is it many things?
Is it nothing at all, or all of the things?
Is everything a thing? Or nothing a thing?
Or are they all thingies, while anything’s a thing?

So goes the story of the history of things
Or is it the thing of history,or the thingy of things?
There are too many things, my heads bleeding things
Or are those all thingies, or something of a thing?




Started off as a way to annoy a friend, and was challenged to turn it into a poem. ¬†Well, this is why you don’t challenge me to write silly things. Because I will.

The story goes
As Grandma said
Things those days
Were a little queer…

When Thomas Cat died
His wife, pregnant,
A kitty was born
Long after he rot

And as Grandma said
As the story goes
Things those days
Were a little bit queer…

The kit had eyes
That were not too sharp
And were quite quite round
And were full of stealth

But Lizzy Cat seemed
Too nonchalant to see
That the little kit
Resembled Thomas Cat none.

And then one night
As Grandma woke
She saw a sight
That was a little bit queer…

Our dear Lizzy Cat
Was cozying up
With the little, pesky
Benjamin Mouse.

So Grandma stood
And silently watched
From behind the shelf
And held her breath.

“Oh my dear Benny Mouse,
Where have you been?
I’m missing you so,
Don’t leave again.”

“Oh my dear Lizzy Cat,
I’ve been many places.
And brought many gifts
They’re waiting for you.”

“My dear Benny Mouse,
Have you seen the kit?
He looks just like you
With his large round eyes.

And the light that glints
From the stealth in his eyes,
Just like yours,
My dear Benny Mouse.”

So Grandma looked hard
At Benny Mouse’s eyes
And looked at the kit
Sleeping at his feet.

“Oh my Oh my,
My poor Thomas Cat.
The kit ain’t his,
OH my OH my!”

His skinny tail
Like Benny Mouse’s,
His tiny frame,
Like Benny’s too.

And the story goes,
As Grandma said
Things those days,
Were more then queer.


A poem I wrote a fair bit back – Thought I’d lost it (I was pretty bummed) but here it is! Still looking to do a picture book to go with it…