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I fancied you until I saw you yawn

p<{color:#000;}.

CAUTION

 

Some poems in this book are unsuitable for younger children. Discretion is also advised for anyone suffering from a nervous disposition, anyone called Nigel, anyone who is or happens to be married to an unsuccessful clown and finally, anyone who is planning to use a toilet within the next 24 hours.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2015 Robby Dundee

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

SECOND EDITION

All rights reserved.

ISBN-10: 1517265835

ISBN-13: 978-1517265830

 

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

 

 

Thank you to Rachel Evans for her artistic prowess at cover design, Zoe Karpeta for her elegant yawning abilities, and to my wife, my mum and my good friend Gaz Rowntree, who put up with my endless barrage of frankly uninvited poetic texts and humored me with words of encouragement whilst secretly wishing they could change their mobile number.

 

 

Cover: Rachel Evans

http://reedsy.com/rachel-evans

 

Model: Zoe Karpeta

http://www.zoekarpeta.co.uk

Dedicated to my mum, Julia Bell.

Your determination is an inspiration

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

 

Thanks for buying a copy of my debut poem collection – ‘I fancied you until I saw you yawn’.

 

You are about to embark on a journey into the depths of my mind; a journey which I hope will make you laugh and won’t leave you curled up, shaking and sweating, in the corner of the room. To be honest, not everyone has ended up like this. I’m sure you’ll be fine.

 

Please tell the world about this book.

 

Use Facebook, use Twitter, hire a plane with a message flying behind it. Just do whatever you can as we haven’t much time!

 

Enjoy!

 

Robby Dundee

 

RobbyDundee.com

Facebook.com/RobbyDundee

Twitter.com/RobbyDundee

IT’S A STRANGE WORLD

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Cash Machine | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Here I stand at the cash machine,

And behind me forms a queue.

They wait for me to take my turn,

But there’s nothing I can do.

I have no pin,

I have no card,

I haven’t any money.

I don’t even have a bank account,

I just stand here as it’s funny.

 

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. First Last Date | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

She warmed my soul, she stole my heart,

She was cheeky, fun and bubbly.

We talked all night, we shared our dreams,

She was, quite simply, lovely.

And after food, and a little wine,

We went our separate ways.

I vowed it would be temporary,

And that we’d meet again in days.

 

He leered at me through watery eyes.

He talked at me and farted.

He was obnoxious, old and smelt of booze,

I was desperate that we parted.

We ordered food, well, we ordered chips.

He drank wine he’d brought from home.

I vowed we’d never meet again,

I’d much rather be alone. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. I’m not well | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

I’ve got scabies

I’ve got rabies

Don’t let me near your pets or babies

I’m contagious

It’s outrageous

Lock me in a box!

 

I’m full of disease

And I’ve got fleas

I’m leaky, wet and smell of cheese

I’ve inflammation

And constipation

And now I’ve got the pox!

 

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. My Dilemma | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Here I sit in A&E

With wife and children

One, two, three.

A nurse I fancy winks at me.

The problem is, she is a he.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Burger King | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I’ve just been to Burger King,

And blocked one of their loos,

And I surfed the net on wifi,

They’d provided free to use.

I ordered triple Whopper meals,

And they loaded up my tray,

Then I snatched my food

And ran outside

Because I didn’t want to pay.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Pedestrian Crossing | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Little Green Man

Tells me I can

Begin to cross the road.

But sometimes I don’t,

And instead I wait

To watch the anger explode.

 

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. My Secret | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I take pictures on my phone

Of things I really shouldn’t.

Things to make your eyes pop out,

I take pictures that you wouldn’t.

 

I store them in a secret folder

And I use the best encryption.

A place the law will never find

Which will save me from conviction.

 

I take my pictures in the dark

Outside of people’s homes.

I feed my fetish every night

Snapping garden gnomes.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. I fancied you until

I saw you yawn | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Your beauty shone without compare,

With emerald eyes and auburn hair.

You were the moon,

The dusk, the dawn,

That was until I saw you yawn.

 

And after that, with image trashed,

Your pedestal completely smashed,

I couldn’t face another morning

And suffer your contorted yawning. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Wee Wee | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

My wee tastes of ginger beer,

And Fabian’s makes us sneeze.

Bernard’s wee is toxic,

And Digby’s looks like cheese.

Billy has the warmest wee,

And is sticky; just like jam.

Whilst Michael’s wee is frothy,

And it smells like roasted ham.

Maurice wants us all to play

With one another’s poo.

But we think that’s disgusting,

What an awful thing to do.

 

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Takeaway | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

I order rice and poppadoms

And dhansak and paneer,

And I get it sent to my address

But I’m actually not here.

 

I’m in the house across the road

Whilst the people are away.

I broke in here on Saturday

For it’s a nicer place to stay.

 

I watch the driver arrive by bike,

Drenched with icy rain.

And when he leaves,

Still clutching food,

I call them to complain.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Treasure | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I’ve been down the park again

Collecting bags of treasure

People leave them near the bins

And I keep them for my pleasure

 

I don’t know what the contents are

For the knots are tied so tight

Most of them are nice and heavy

Whereas some of them are light

 

Many feel so soft and warm

With others, hard and gritty

I hope there’s something nice inside

And not just something shitty |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Tiger and Raccoons | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Come and touch my tiger

And show me your raccoons

Then I want to see your bumble bee

And nibble your baboon.

 

And when we’ve done some buffalo

And I’ve been inside your shrew

We can wipe ourselves with feathers

One for me and one for you. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Dyson Airblade | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

I dried my willy in a Dyson Airblade.

Life will never be the same.

It’s battered, shredded, bruised and sore,

And I’m crippled by the pain.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Night Miles | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Last night I dreamt of running,

A truly vivid dream.

I fell asleep in Milton Keynes,

And woke in Aberdeen.

 

I once woke up in Rotherham,

Which disturbed me to the core.

It was grim beyond all reason,

A place I’d never been before.

 

It happens without warning,

This running through the night.

I can wake up somewhere lovely,

But it’s often somewhere shite.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Badger Fun | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Spooning with a badger can be done.

It’s not very easy, and it’s not much fun.

But if you’re happy with the crime,

Of facing court and a hefty fine,

Then spoon a badger

When you have time,

And film it all to post online. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Keeping it in the Family | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Stephen had a wife,

And his wife, she had a lover.

But Stephen knew this person

Since the man, was Stephen’s brother.

 

But the brother wasn’t faithful,

Because he also had another,

And used to meet up secretly,

With the mother of his lover.

 

The mother learnt about the brother,

And she wanted retribution.

So got together with Stephen’s dad

Just increasing the confusion.

 

When Stephen learnt the awful truth

He was truly devastated.

So he took his gun and shot them all;

Situation terminated.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Uncle’s Poetry | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

My uncle was a poet,

He wrote poems all the time,

But the public didn’t like them,

For his poems didn’t rhyme.

 

His subjects were too complicated,

And they just made sense to him.

So he bagged them altogether,

And he dumped them in the bin.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Miscarriage of Injustice | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I didn’t do it, can’t you see,

I wasn’t even there!

Even though you found my fingerprints

On door and kitchen chair.

Your reasons for detaining me

Are weak beyond compare,

It matters not I have the knife

Or blood amongst my hair.

Yes these are his car keys

But it doesn’t prove a thing,

And yes I’ve used his credit card

And I wear his wedding ring.

I respect you have a job to do

And I’m sure your mum is proud,

But now it’s time to say you’re wrong

Let me hear it clear and loud.

The fact you found his severed head

In the freezer in my shed

Does not conclude definitively

That the man is really dead.

Your argument is totally flawed

And the judge he will agree.

Forensic proof is often wrong!

Stop the tape and set me free! |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Gary’s Sandwich | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Gary had a sandwich

That he made all by himself.

He wrapped it up so tightly

And he left it on the shelf.

But Gary’s memory failed him

And he forgot about his lunch,

Instead preferring Burger King

And a Whopper Meal to munch.

 

The sandwich remained forgotten,

Ignored for years and years,

Finally turning moldy green and sprouting tiny hairs.

Soon it began to twitch and move,

And started thinking for itself;

An intellectual sandwich, sat up high upon the shelf.

 

Why am I here?

And who am I?

And will I find love soon?

The deep, but troubled sandwich

Descended into doom.

 

Eventually it became too much,

More than it could contain,

And sandwich threw itself from shelf,

Thus ending all its pain.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Aunty Sue | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Aunty Sue likes Germaline

It’s her favorite anti-septic

She uses it to brush her teeth

And she finds it quite effective |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Underpants | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

I’m sat here in my underpants

And I’ve been like this for days.

I’m eating Frosties out the box,

In my horizontal laze.

 

I find the low light wonderful,

And although it’s bright outside,

The curtains block the sunshine out,

And the darkness helps me hide.

 

Top Gear keeps me company

As does Fifteen to One.

Most people think I’m lonely

But I’ve never had such fun.

 

I’m staying like this forever,

Drenched in glorious gloom.

Just me, myself and Countdown,

In the blackness of my room.

 

 

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Angry Neighbor | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

My neighbor doesn’t like me much

He shouts and shakes his fist.

He pulls my hair and makes me cry

When he grabs me by the wrist.

He drags me to his garden

And demands an explanation,

For why I sneak onto his lawn

To do my defecation. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Previous Poo | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Rumbling tummy

Have to go

To lighten my load

To let it flow.

 

Must pick my cubical

Most carefully

Avoid a previous poo

Waiting for me. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Short and Sweet | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

When I poo, I think of you,

And when I think, I stink. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Toilet Cruelty | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

The man in cubical number 3

Drops his pants for poop and wee.

He calls to me as his rolls empty

But I say no, yet I’ve got plenty.

I leave him weeping at his plight,

And on the way out, turn out the light. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Marathon Poo | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Marathon poo, I hate you,

You never arrive when I need you too.

You never come at the needed time,

Instead you wait for the starting line.

It’s hard to run when you’re fit to burst,

Spoiling my chances of coming first.

Oh marathon poo, you frustrate me.

Why can’t you be like helpful race wee? |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Delayed Due To Poo | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I’m late, but must wait, to evacuate.

Cannot commit when full of it,

To the open road with my full load.

Hartshead Moor is just too far,

For poo plus me plus company car.

Unable to go I have to stay,

And when it’s flowed,

I’ll be on my way.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Cubical Fear | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

I found a poo in cubical 2

Which was really terrifying,

But it was what I found in number 3

That made me burst out crying. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Poo Stand Off | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Here I sit in cubical 3

My private world for poop and pee

When a man arrives in number 2

For noisy wee and angry poo.

I wait and hope that he will leave

Allowing me to push and heave.

But fast he’s not, his poo is slow,

And so I wipe and flush and go. |

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Twenty Four Seven Toilets | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Alone he died in cubical 2.

Death came and took him during his poo.

But it was three weeks

Before he was found,

Slumped with trousers upon the ground.

For they thought 2 was occupied;

No one realised that he had died. |

SPUNKY THE CLOWN

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Grumpy Spunky | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Spunky put the gun down!

You’re a naughty little clown.

You’re an angry entertainer,

Frightening people in this town.

 

Spunky drop your weapon!

Get yourself onto the floor,

Lie down with your legs apart,

Point your arms towards the door.

 

That’s it Spunky, nice and slow,

Don’t make us use the tazer.

Slide across the gun, the knife,

The bullets and the razor.

 

Now put your hands behind your back

And we’ll cuff you up so tightly

Then off we’ll go to see the judge

And I doubt you’ll get off lightly. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Spunky Must Die | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Spunky is so chunky,

And he has been for some time.

He likes his cakes and biscuits,

And he’s always eating mine.

 

If you’re sat there munching pancakes

Then he’ll sit and stare at you,

Until you hand them over;

There is nothing you can do.

 

Even if I hide my pies

In a place so secretly,

He’ll just find them and consume them

Leaving not a scrap for me.

 

Spunky is so chunky

But his stealing days are over,

For I’ve laced my apple strudel

With a little poisonous clover .

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Clowning Around At The Farm | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Spunky the clown.

The clown with the frown.

Watch over the livestock,

When he is around.

 

A clown no one wants.

No matter how cheap.

Except magistrates,

With a date he must keep.

 

Spunky the clown,

You’re not leaving town.

You’ve been fiddling with bovines;

And they’re sending you down. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Swim With Spunky | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Spunky loves the swimming pool

He likes to do his splashing.

He’s very good at mushroom floats,

And he keen to do some flashing.

 

When the lifeguard isn’t looking

And the water’s not too deep,

Then he whips away his clown trunks

To give the girls a peep. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Spunky’s Secret | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Spunky has a secret

(That everybody knows)

About his need to squish his poo

Through his fingers and his toes.

 

No one wants to shake his hand

Or wear his platform shoes

For fear of catching something

From the clown who plays with poo.

 

|

NIGEL

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel’s Lunch | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I ate my lunch at half past 10

And now my stomachs empty.

But I’ll steal from Nige,

As he was patient,

And I know he’s got plenty. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel in a Crate | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nige asks me to let him out

As he’s feeling claustrophobic.

Which I find strange as he told me

He’s mildly agoraphobic.

But even if I wanted too,

I couldn’t set him free.

So in the crate, Nigel must stay,

Until I find the key. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Dirty Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel hasn’t washed his hands,

And he hasn’t washed his willy.

He says his boiler’s faulty,

And it makes the water chilly.

He tells me that his bum is clean,

But I’m simply not convinced,

So next time Nigel falls asleep,

I’ll check that it’s been rinsed. |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel’s Angry Cake | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

When Nige makes cake,

He’s usually angry,

And he doesn’t take much care.

He’s sloppy with his mixing,

And he lacks a certain flare.

His cakes are more like porridge,

With a burnt and crispy coating.

And have an acrid taste,

That stings the throat,

And can cause painful bloating.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Unwelcome Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel made a pass at me

Down the corridor.

I thought he was being friendly

But then he wanted more.

So I got him in a headlock

And I broke his collar bone.

Then I grabbed my coat,

My bag, my keys,

And drove myself straight home.

 

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel’s Mayonnaise | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel’s made egg mayonnaise

But we think it tastes funny.

It’s dark and smelly and very strong,

And it’s frothy, warm and runny.

|

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Poor Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

With joy, he cried,

When the doctor lied.

But because he lied,

Poor Nigel died! |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel’s Cake | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel brought cake to work today

Which everyone rejected,

For Nige has several hygiene problems

And some say he’s infected.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Ungrateful Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel’s so ungrateful

For I feed him once a day

And I clear his poop up once a month

But he doesn’t want to stay.

He says his cage is just too small,

And is too far from the ground,

And he hates it when I grab the bars,

And spin him round and round.

He says he needs some space to move,

And some light to help him see,

And warmth to stop him shivering

And a bucket for his wee.

But I am bored by Nigel’s needs,

I’ve no time for luxuries.

He’ll have to live with what he’s got

And show some thanks to me. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. More Cake | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Nigel has cake!

But for goodness sake!

Make sure you don’t have any,

For Nigel doesn’t wash his hands,

When he goes to spend a penny.

| =. |=. p<{color:#000;}.   |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. I Have Issues With Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I hate Nigel.

I hate his kids.

I even hate his wife.

I hate his house, his car, his dog,

I hate Nigel’s entire life.

The next time Nigel visits me

I’ll punch him in the face,

And I’ll kick him in the testicles,

For he’s a useless waste of space.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Nigel’s Written Work | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Nigel doesn’t understand

The need for punctuation

That sentences are far too long

Without correct truncation

He rambles on and on and on

Missing any comprehension

A full stop here and there would mean

No need for explanation

But Nigel laughs, ignores our calls

For paragraph formation

He writes his words continuously

Just causing more frustration

But soon we all have had enough

Of Nigel’s rambling script

So we push him backwards down the stairs

And tell the world he tripped |

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Sleepy Nigel | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

Our Nigel looks so very tired,

He’s got rings around his eyes.

And if ever ask him something

He just crumples down and cries.

 

His employer wasn’t happy,

And they told him he was fired,

And he hasn’t worked for ages,

Because he’s just so very tired.

 

He simply can’t stop yawning,

Says he’s nearly at the end.

His skin is thin magnolia,

He’s a truly broken friend.

 

The exhaustion is consuming,

And he aches down to his core,

And yet I don’t feel guilty,

Indeed, I plan to do it more!

 

For every night at bedtime,

When he wants to feel serene,

I always tweak his Horlicks,

With a big spoon of caffeine.

|

LET’S BE SERIOUS

table=. =. |=.
p<>{color:#000;}.  

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. After the Storm | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

The storm had washed him

Far onto the beach,

Where the sand was dry

And out of waters reach.

Unaccustomed to the stillness

He gazed along the shore,

His familiar world of crashing seas

And turbulence no more.

 

No need to swim or stay afloat.

Or wait in vain for a rescue boat.

 

The panic though did not subside,

And still he tried to swim.

Frantic kicking, thrusting arms,

All that was known to him.

Until he found his clarity,

And realised he was free.

Calm and safe and distant

From the torment of the sea. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Goodbye | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

How is your sadness on this day?

Said the man who had come

To take mammy away.

Words well rehearsed, yet sincere and true,

Him providing the service

The home couldn’t do.

Be kind, be gentle, ensure you respect her,

She was our mammy, be soft, be tender.

We all loved her dearly, please treat her with care,

Dress her correctly and brush her hair.

How is your sadness on this day?

Said the man who had come to take mammy away

“On Sunday morning, my mammy died”

“And I ache with sadness”, I replied.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Abstinence | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I face a Devil’s picnic,

For which I have no need,

Sugar, Caffeine, Beef and Beer,

All calling me to feed. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Urban Heart Attack | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Arterial route from east to west,

A city crushed with cardiac arrest,

Thick with vile traffic congestion,

Use your bike is my suggestion. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Self Employed | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Unable to pause (no time to ponder)

About life’s flaws (no time to wonder)

Hurry, hurry, flat out,

Keep moving, dashing about,

Rushing faster, no time to stop,

If I work any harder then I think I’ll drop.

No time to breath (just gasp if I can)

The impossible schedule of the self employed man.

|

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Duvet Duvet | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

“It’s safe under here” said the man who was smaller,

Than people perceived him, for they saw him taller.

A man who had burdens that earned him respect,

Admiration from all for his business intellect.

Multiple tasking and memory elastic,

Motivating staff so they feel fantastic.

Suppressing the stress so no one could see,

The regret of promotion, the desire to be free.

Calm on the outside yet inside he’s choking,

Panic filled thoughts despite all his joking.

Calling timeout when the diary is bursting,

Customers moaning and swearing and cursing.

Rushing straight home and locking the door,

Sucking his thumb curled up on the floor.

“I’ll be big tomorrow, but not today”

Said the man hiding under his 10 tog duvet.

|

 

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. The Runner’s Paradox | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I want the finish,

I crave the finish,

The finish is my friend,

And yet the black dog waits for me,

For finish marks the end. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. A Poem To Sing With Friends

(or loudly and alone, in

the centre of town) | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

Bring along a bing bong,

Ding a dong a ping pong,

Ring a ding a sing song,

Plop plop plop. |

 

table=. =. |=.
p={color:#000;}. Mandatory Action | =. |=.
p={color:#000;}.  

 

 

I trust you liked my poetry,

And I hope it made you smile,

Please tell the world about this book,

Before you throw it on the pile.

 

Use your social media,

Make sure you shout it loud and clear,

Tell your friends,

Your mum, your gran,

Tell anyone who’s near!

 

|

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

 

 

Robby Dundee is a marathon running father of three who lives with his wife in York, England. Born in Middlesbrough, he has also lived in Birmingham and Wakefield, and has worked in France, Holland and Italy.

 

As well as a long career in IT, Robby has also worked as a market trader, a key cutter, an ink cartridge engineer, an end of life vehicle specialist, a car washer, a project manager, a motor dealer, a computer shop owner, a virtual office entrepreneur, a web developer, a computer programmer, a work study officer in the sewing industry, a bingo hall card checker, a pizza delivery man and a Sudoku grid creator.

 

In 1985, aged 12, he started a business selling bespoke poems to residents in his street. Business was brisk, until his mother found out, and she marched him up the road to return all the cash.

www.RobbyDundee.com

 


I fancied you until I saw you yawn

  • ISBN: 9781311915207
  • Author: Robby Dundee
  • Published: 2016-03-05 16:40:24
  • Words: 3776
I fancied you until I saw you yawn I fancied you until I saw you yawn