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Best Poems Written by Brian Cecil

Below are the all-time best Brian Cecil poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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A Fishing I Will Go

A Fishing I Will Go


Today I decided to go fishing,
So went to get my pole.
I dreamt of catching the big one,
But a perch, a more likely goal.

The rod I had was broken,
In not one place but two.
I tossed the rod onto the floor
Not knowing what else to do.

I went up in the kitchen,
And found an old broomstick.
I looked at it and smiled;
Yes this would do the trick.

My line it seemed was broken too,
So I went to get some more.
I thought I had some in my desk,
At least there was before.

There inside, I found the spool,
But upon it was no line.
So I went down in the cellar,
And found a ball of twine.

Hmm! I thought to myself,
Not the best but not the worst.
It wouldn’t work all by itself,
I need to attach it first.

Stick and twine I now had,
Next I’d need a hook.
I went back to my old pole
To have another look.

It seems the hook was gone,
For it had broken off before.
I meant to get another one,
Forgot, and there’s no more

I sat there with a frown,
Which turned into a grin
For I thought of something else to use,
Yup, a safety pin.

What else, I thought, would I need?
For it was getting kind-a-late.
Why, something to put onto the hook,
A hot-dog would be great.

I had all I needed now,
So went out the front door.
Only to see it was raining,
And I mean a major down pour.

So I guess this rhyme is over,
There’s nothing more to say.
Except that I am now all set,
And tomorrows another day.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

A Pirate Drinking Song

A Pirate Drinking Song

Yo-Ho-Ho and a bottle of rum
Pirates sing to the pipe and drum
North wind blows with a Gale's horn
Snapping the canvas with a deafening mourn

Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought

We ride the waves seeking adventure and plunder
It is Neptune’s wrath we curse, by thunder
The sea, she bares a woman’s desire
To set each sailors heart a fire

Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought

Canon and cutlass, powder and gun
We cut down are foes, one by one
To Davy Jones locker our souls will sleep
A funeral of apathy in the briny deep

Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought

With a hardy crew and an open sea
It’s a pirating life I want for me
Till then we will sing of the scallywag scum
Yo-Ho-Ho, Another bottle of Rum

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

Fox, Rat and Cat

Fox, Rat And Cat

Now Felix was a cat,
That hung out with a rat,
The rats name, Scat Rat Lou.

They formed a band duo,
That was way out cool,
And their fan base grew and grew.

Felix, he played the skins,
It was just for shits and grins,
But man could he bang out a beet.

While Scat Rat Lou,
Always dressed in blue,
His horn, a major cool treat.

They needed a voice,
Foxy Roxy, their choice,
And so the two became three.

They’d jam through the night,
What a far out sight,
And yet their concerts were always free.

So if you’ve nothing to do,
I’ll say this to you,
You should check out this most awesome band.

For a rat fox and cat,
They know only that,
Their sound flows all through the land.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

A Gnome Rhyme

A Gnome Rhyme

One day I thought I’d take a walk, so I went down to the park.
I hoped to see a Robin or Wren, or even a Meadow Lark.
When suddenly I saw someone, appear before my eyes.
It was a Gnome all dressed in black; of this I tell no lies.
I asked where he was going, and this is what he said.
He told me from his wedding, of which he now has fled.
I then asked what had happened, and why he ran away.
He told me that his bride-to-be, had run the other way.
We were never ready for marriage, it was not yet meant to be.
But our father Gnome’s would not listen to us; their eyes refused to see.
When upon the Gnome tree altar, of which we would be wed.
I could see in my Gnome girl’s eyes, a life we both might dread.
She said to me that we should wait, and thus we dashed away.
And as I passed by both our fathers, with a grin I said “Good-day.”
The Gnome girl I was to marry, had bolted the opposite way.
And now we both are running, and probably will all day.
I told him if he liked, I’d hide him at my house.
And if he wished, I’d do the same, for the girl, his almost spouse.
He thanked me for the offer. He said that would be nice.
He then produced a golden coin, saying, “Would this be enough of a price?”
I said the coin was unnecessary, that I considered him a friend.
And for a friend I’d be there for him, up to the very end.
We searched and eventually found his girl; she was hiding behind a rock.
The rock was near a very old church; on top it was a clock.
The clock struck on the hour, when I suggested we should head home.
And so we three, we did just that; me and my two Gnomes.
I noticed something as we walked; the two were holding hands.
I wondered what each was thinking; maybe they still had plans.
Love can be quite odd; it grows at its own time.
My walk this day is over now, as too is this Gnome rhyme.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

A Jack Vine Rhyme

A Jack Vine Rhyme
(a poem from my ‘Jack And The Giant Private Eyes’ book)

I’m Jack Vine and I’m a nursery rhyme PI.
I find out facts so don’t try to lie.
My partners name is Tiny, that’s Tiny Giant.
We take all kinds of cases and all kinds of clients.
Jack who? You ask. You mean you don’t know the name?
Why, I grew a magic beanstalk; yup, the very same.
I have this gorgeous dame in my life, who goes by Mary.
She has a sister too, her name being Terri.
Now, Mary was a case first, as she lost her little lamb.
But I found out later, well, that story was a sham.
It seems her lamb wasn’t really lost; she’d made that all up.
The plan was to get me to notice her, and maybe have some supp’.
I guess the ploy worked, for eventually we tied the knot.
We even have two kids now, and to me, that’s a lot.
Tiny, my partner, he got caught too,
Seems Terri was out to get him, and knew just what to do.
In the end it seems, we all made out quite well,
So now I’m off on another case,
‘bout an egg that fell.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

A Cracked Case Solved

A Cracked Case Solved
(A Rocci Raccoon File)

Humpty Dumpty fell off the wall,
But was his fall an accident at all?

It was said in hushed whispers, there was something that stunk,
But that turned out to be Pepe La Pew; La Pew was a skunk.

A howl too was heard, just moments before,
Followed by the bang, of a slamming door.

The police searched the crime scene, gathering evidence and clues.
When asked about suspects, they gave out no news.

Humpty was in the hospital, under intensive care.
His shell cracked open; his yoke lay bare.

Doctor Doolittle work tirelessly, well into the night.
He wrapped Humpty with Duct tape. What a pitiful looking sight.

Yet the tape seemed to help and Humpty opened his eyes.
The Big egg’s recovery, a complete surprise.

The police question Mr. Dumpty, “Can you tell us your tale?”
“I think it was Jack and Jill,” he said, “for I was hit with their pail.”

Stunned were the police, for they knew Jack and Jill.
They assumed they were at home, or maybe up the hill. 

Unconscious and tied up, both were found around noon.
In the grass on the hill were a dish and a spoon.

Their pail, it was missing, of that we all know.
Having been used on Humpty’s head, striking a great blow.

The kids were thus questioned. “What happened to you two?”
“It was some boy.” They guessed unsure. “Maybe Little Boy Blue.”

Boy Blue, the cops found, in his room playing his horn.
Earlier he’d been with The Three Little Pigs eating corn. 

The detective in charge, his name, Rocci Raccoon,
Considered all the evidence, like The Dish and The Spoon.

Hmm, he then wondered. Was that sound heard a howl?
Or, had it been a fake howl? A fake howl from a cow?

The kids had an alibi. They were both squarely tied up.
Boy Blue wasn’t at fault. He was with three pigs having Supp’.

Back to Humpty, Rocci went. “Are you sure who you saw?”
“Well, maybe not exactly, for I’d taken a great fall.”

“Tell me more,” prodded the raccoon. “Anything that you can.”
“I saw two shapes,” said the egg. One holding a ham, the other a pan.”

So who, Rocci pondered. Who like eggs with their ham?
He could only think of one. That was Sam I Am.

An APB was put out, and our Sam was thus found.
He was caught with a Laughing Little Dog, sitting by, on the ground.

It seems he had an accomplice, for there too was The Cow.
With nineteen boxes of Moon Pies, the cow more like a sow.

“Why’d you do it?” asked Rocci. “Try to pull off your scam.”
Sam sadly replied, “Because I like eggs with my ham.”

The moral of this story… Well, I can’t think of one.
This rhyme seems to be over. Yes, I think it is now done.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

The Storm

The Storm

It is late at night and in my room,
Darkness prevails as a kind of gloom.

Whispers the sentinel of events to be.
A flash of lightning, outside I see.

The quiet is broken by Hell sent thunder.
I leap from my bed and there hide under.

On pane of glass, the droplets smash.
Like hammer on nail, it seems to bash.

Out in the vortex of wind and rain.
The calm is lost, for Chaos, a gain.

With eyes closed tight, I call out my cry.
“What have I done, that I must die?!”

The answer I receive in a voice so deep.
“Damn it Chris, Go back to sleep!”

Now reassured, for mom was near,
I knew now this storm was nothing to fear.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

Tidal Wave

Tidal Wave

A rumble, a shift; deep in the abyss.
You would never even notice, a minor thing to miss.
The forces of the shock, move silently  along.
On shore, the villagers; knew nothing to be wrong.

Closer and closer, the rippling of the waves.
A voice of Mother Earth; the laws of Newton’s slaves.
On the shelf it gathers, increasing in its might.
To build a Titan’s hand, and smash a deadly plight.

Up and up the water, a wall is rising high.
Blotting out the sun and the deeply azuring sky.
So terrible the Chaos, bursting forth the dam.
Annihilating the meek; the silencing of the lamb.

In moments it had ended, Quiet was the shore.
The village and its people, Terra made no-more.
The few that did survive; For loved ones, tears did flow.
Picked up their few possessions and sought a place to go.

No matter where you are, this land you are upon,
life it does not stop, the living shall go on.
Mother Nature gives us love, I believe it is her goal.
But sometimes she is harsh, extracting a heavy toll.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

Thomas Cat Loo

Thomas Cat Loo

Have you heard the tale of a rabbit, whose name was Thomas Cat?
You might think this a little strange and I must agree with that.
But Thomas you see was adopted, by a feline named Kitty Loo.
She saw Thomas in a little basket, and knew what she must do.
She took poor Thomas as her son, and watched him as he grew.
She knew one day he’d leave the den, and that had made her blue.
Thomas had known he was different, after all how could he not.
But he had a lot of good friends, one named Iron Pot.
Now Iron Pot he was a tortoise, with a shell as hard as stone.
When he was young, he was very little, but then he had grown and grown.
They hung out with two rabbit friends; one a girl and one a boy.
The boy, his name was Peter, while the girl, was known as Joy.
They called themselves ‘The Cool Four’ and I’d agree with that.
For cool is what I’d call four friends; two rabbits, a tortoise and a cat.
These friends had a dream to be musicians, and so they formed a band.
They played each night in a meadow field, and I think that’s just grand.
Who am I you may ask. Why I am Kitty Loo.
And I couldn’t be more proud of my kitten, my boy, my Thomas Loo.

Details | Brian Cecil Poem

Fly By Night

Fly By Night

I am a mosquito, 
And I fly by night.
I can fly very high,
Higher than a kite.

I can touch the moon.
With its alluring blue glow 
Wait! That’s not the moon.
OH NO!

ZAP!