Book Shop

Thanks for dropping by. From time to time, The Rhyming Corner produces booklets and other collections of poetry, in digital and printed formats. Here in our book shop you can see what we currently have on offer. Those of you who visit our website from outside the UK can email us for an international price that includes postage and packaging to your front door. Just let us have your destination country and area code for a complete price and we’ll email the quote back to you for approval along with a special PayPal link if you decide to make your purchase.

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INSTANT FIX – (David A Thornton, The Rhyming Corner)

A colourful and contrasting collection of rhymes from 2018 in this first edition 40 page booklet with illustrations and photos. Price includes UK postage and packing. Individually signed by the author.

£8.50


Coming Soon… a digital download of the Instant Fix Rhyming Poetry Book. (January 2019)

England in Miniature

Have you ever been
To the Isle of Wight?
We went over Tuesday,
And stayed till Friday night.
Although it isn’t very big,
It’s larger than it looks,
And worth a bit of planning,
With your trusted travel books.

The roads are often narrow,
And they weave around a lot,
I guarantee, you’ll be amazed,
At what a lot it’s got.
I wouldn’t like to pick one thing,
And state it as the best,
But rather say, head there today,
And put it to the test.

You have to get a ferry,
But it isn’t very far,
The buses there are really good,
So no need for the car.
But if I may just recommend,
A favourite place of mine,
Godshill Model Village,
If you find you have the time.

Rubicon

The screen is blank,
Cursor flashing,
My mind a mix of
Ideas clashing.
Then a thread,
begins to form,
Before too long,
A poems’ born.
A literary
Rubrik’s cube
All mixed up,
Then all made smooth.
Satisfied
I save the score,
A Rubicon
Not seen before.

Mousetraps and Shoes

There are cats, and this and that’s,
Left on mats, next to hats,
And two mousetraps, in our flats.

Yes we have mice, I’ve seen them twice,
They bring in lice who eat the rice,
Which isn’t nice, to be precise.

This makes mum mad, who shouts at dad,
Things could turn bad, so off I pad,
Go shopping lad (If cash I had).

When I get home, I sit alone,
On cushioned foam, turn off my phone
Get in my dome, my poem zone.

Dad comes back, with uncle Jack,
Who’s got the sack, from The Shoe Rack
For holding back, no shelves he’d stack

Mum makes tea for Jack plus three,
Great for me, and mum I see,
It’s good to be a family.

Hello Friend

Invite your friends to like our page,
I know, it’s really vain,
But we get a real kick,
From seeing “like” scores gain.

We write a poem every day,
And sometime, even two,
About so many varied things,
To capture interest too.

We are the Rhyming Corner,
We’re only starting out,
Please support us if you can,
And spread our rhymes about.

The Sharing Poem

A place for rhyming poetry,
A complicated art,
Getting things to rhyme in time,
Is hard work at the start.

Now we find we’re concentrating
More on storylines,
And filling out our characters,
Redrafting many times.

We didn’t really plan to write
Everything in rhyme,
It’s just turned out to go that way,
Which so far has been fine.

We hope that you will follow us,
And share this journey too,
So thanks for your support so far,
And best wishes to you.

Wonders of Wight

I saw it on a tea towel,
Many years ago,
The seven wonders of the Wight,
It made us want to go.

Cowes you couldn’t milk, was one,
(Though some have had a go),
Being dry in Lake’s no fun,
With needles that can’t sew.

It got me sort of thinking,
Could this be updated?
What wonders would you choose today,
And how would they be rated?

Red squirrels would be on my list,
And so would sunshine hours,
Perfect bays for Instagram,
A Garden Isle of flowers.

It is a real Adventure Land,
Where stories start to form,
Of wishing stones and pirate bones,
Where dinosaurs were born.

It has to be the countryside,
That rolls down to the sea,
Or the stately home of poets
In Freshwater Bay for me.

So when I come to “cross the bar”
Returning to this space,
I doubt, just like Lord Tennyson,
I’d find a nicer place.

The real wonder of it all,
Is how it stays afloat,
To welcome millions every year,
On holidays by boat.

Our Easter Walk

Easter, that means ‘Easter Walks’ in the pouring rain,
No matter what the weather says, every year’s the same.
Yesterday was sunny, not a cloud in view,
But now it’s thunder, lightning, rain, with fog and strong winds too.

You’d think that we would cancel it but mum and dad say “NO”,
We pack our lunches, extra socks, and Easter eggs and go.
We drive into the countryside, to some deserted spot,
With mountains all around us, the land that time forgot.

Lunch is eaten by a wall that feels like the North Pole,
The rain keeps beating on my head, and on my sausage roll.
Halfway up the mountain side, my sister needs a wee,
Dad shouts out from up ahead, “Go behind a tree”.

Little sister gets her foot stuck in a rabbit hole,
Then trips and falls into the stream, soaked from head to toe.
“Good one sis” I say to her, “Now can we all go home?”
But dad says, “race you to the top”, and sets off all alone.

Now we’re walking in thick mist, and then it starts to snow,
My dad appears to look confused, not sure which way to go.
“Oh No, we’re going to die up here”, I kick up quite a stink,
“Be quiet now”, my mother says, “and let your father think”.

“I think I see a light ahead”, dad whispers in the dark,
Turns out it’s a mini bus, we’re back in the car park.
Eventually we make it home, half dead on our legs,
We sit beside a roaring fire and eat our Easter eggs.

I wasn’t always happy on those soggy walking days,
But now, when I think back on them, they were great holidays.

Steephill Cove

Take the path to Steephill Cove,
A treasured, special place.
I grew up here on summer hols,
It’s an amazing space.

Bill the Donkey lived just here,
Behind the toilet shack,
Chewing on a clump of thistles,
Sunshine on his back.

You’ll find a cottage on the beach,
With a roof of thatch,
And brightly painted huts and sheds,
But none that ever match.

The Beach Shack is the place to be,
Beneath a bamboo roof,
Also with detaching walls,
To keep you waterproof.

Andy, in his cowboy hat,
Has run the place for years,
Serving bowls of lobster soup,
with coffees, wines and beers.

They used to have a painted wall,
Of mermaids out at sea,
But now it’s just a brilliant white
And feels like Tuscany.

The beach shop by the Kayak house,
Sells trinkets from the seas,
As local children make wristbands
To sell to families.

So if you’re in the Isle of Wight,
And have some time to spare,
Take the path to Steephill Cove
And chill out when you’re there.

We hope you enjoy your visit today. Click here to enter the basement and read all the poems, or scroll through this page for the latest 15 published rhymes

Our Tip Trip

Today we’re on a new adventure
At our smart Recycling Centre,
Dad drives up and joins the queue,
Lot’s of others came here too!
An hour later we get in,
And park right by a wheelie bin,
The manager says “You can’t stop there”
But Dad looks like he doesn’t care.

First we’re at the bottle bank,
My favourite place, although it stank.
I love to push glass bottles in,
And hear the smashing sounds within.
“That’s enough!” my mother shouts,
Whilst holding mouldy brussel sprouts,
“Or else you’ll have these for your tea”
I think that she was teasing me.

The manager leans right in to say
“The stuff some people throw away,
Computer games wrapped in a rag,
False teeth in a plastic bag”.
We go to where the plastic’s stored,
They’ve got a most impressive hoard,
Plastic bottles stacked up high,
Just used once, then left to die.

I never really thought that much,
About our planet Earth, as such,
But in a small, and helpful way,
I will recycle every day.

Let’s Visit England

Oh, let’s visit England,
To have tea, and scones and jams,
That lush inviting countryside,
Those cows, and sheep and lambs.

The wild and rugged coastline,
With hidden coves and bays,
Golden sands, and ice cream stands,
And warmer summer days.

Cities old as time itself,
With ancient city walls,
Newly covered in plate glass,
With funky bars and stalls.

Paths for walking by the sea,
Or through the hills and dales,
Cycle Paths, and Roman baths,
And January Sales.

And then we’ll head to London Town,
To try and spot the Queen,
Then maybe try the London Eye,
And dine out in between.

Those castles, gardens, stately homes,
Well, I’m your biggest fan.
There’s nowhere quite like England now,
Let’s visit whilst we can!

Looking for George

Bingo’s in a Beatles band,
In fact he plays the drums,
He’s always got a pair of sticks,
Resting on his thumbs.

Lennox plays the Lennon role,
He likes to play the fool,
But also plays harmonica,
On songs like “Love me Do”

Lizzie plays the base guitar,
She sings like Paul McCartney,
And even though she’s not a bloke,
She knows just how to party.

They haven’t got a George right now,
The last one ran away,
So if you play guitar yourself,
You could save the day.

The Sweet Spot

Here’s a boy who lost his legs,
Whilst crossing on the street.
He’s now a web designer,
So he doesn’t need his feet.

Hannah, though she cannot see,
Wow, what about that voice?
She wants to be an opera star,
Her life, her chance, her choice.

Brain lost his own right arm,
When falling from a tower,
But when he runs, he almost flies
At 60 miles an hour.

Sally may be slow to learn,
But she can colour in,
She paints just like some famous guy,
Vincent Van Something.

Talents hide in every brain,
So work with what you’ve got,
For when your talent starts to shine
You’ll find the sweetest spot.

 

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