Poetry by Jeff Green


The Magician

by cricketjeff on August 8, 2008.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

A load of empty chairs
When Uncle George’s magic act was booked to fill the hall,
The audience was small, in fact nobody went at all.
He couldn’t find a volunteer, so sawed himself in half
Although the sight was very queer nobody had a laugh.
His cute assistant (Aunty May) did not distract a soul,
But since she’s short and twice as fat, a good thing on the whole.
The pigeon poo (his doves have flown) just fell on empty chairs;
The giant plastic telephone caught no-one unawares.
The flags of several nations, well he’s mislayed quite a few,
Were pulled from pockets holed to hell, by moths, they  were not new.
His handcuffs rusted tightly closed, a hacksaw let him free,
It was a good thing I proposed no-one was there to see.
The budgie that selects the cards would only pick up seeds,
The bunch of flowers in his hat were rather ropey weeds,
But the finale to his show was really rather weird
By methods I will never know he simply disappeared.


Author notes

OK, it’s in ballad measure but I’ve written it in 14 syllable lines with internal rhyme since this allows me to pretend there is not much enjambment.

Picture is from here:-