Stephen Nephetson

I sat by the riverbank
to dine on my crisps
watching toadstools
and blue bells
...

I lay upon a shingle beach
All the fish were out of reach
But in the corner of my eye
I spied a group of Octopi
...

In a land of purple people
where the Octave owl hoots
Mr Nephetson stands thinking
In his lace up green fur boots
...

Consider the lonely dandelion
In his corner by the shed
 An outcast from the flowers
that decorate the bed
...

I lay in My tent
Alone
That is the truth
When I spotted
...

I returned to the riverbank
I'd once enjoyed
Where
with my crisps and my blue bells
...

Consider the worm in his
living grave
doomed to toil
Deep in the soil
...

The Bumble Bee, the Bumble Bee
Scientists said in a serious key
he shouldn't be able to fly
But there he is
...

On the moonlit slates
bathed in blue I first spied him
the moth
destroyer of humankind's cloth
...