All Posts By

Peter Bruffell

Stories

The Brother’s

The two brothers sat opposite each other, there was no love lost between them, even though they were identical twins, they had an intense dislike for each other, well at least John had for Brian. Being the eldest by thirty six minutes, John always thought that Brian was their mothers…
Peter Bruffell
21st November 2013
Poetry

Blue

Blue’s my favourite colour, I see it every day, Except when it is duller And the sky is cloudy grey.
Peter Bruffell
19th March 2008
Poetry

A Policeman’s Lot

A Policeman’s lot, “is not a happy one,” Gilbert and Sullivan once said. Perhaps it’s because they’ve got big feet And they’re far too over fed.
Peter Bruffell
19th March 2008
Poetry

Bad News

Tonight the world was blown away, Destroyed from under our feet! I tried to watch it on the T.V news But my wife wanted Coronation Street.
Peter Bruffell
19th March 2008
Poetry

Wine

Why do the French drink so much wine When they eat their dinner, To me my beer, it is just fine, I wonder, is that why they’re thinner?
Peter Bruffell
19th March 2008
Poetry

Temper

Temper raging far within Like a burning tempest fire. A diamond scratched upon the glass, A rabbit snared in wire. It bubbles up from far below Like a boiling cauldron pot By the time it reaches to the head, The cause is near forgot’. But still the temper rages on,…
Peter Bruffell
9th March 2008
Poetry

Faith

I saw an Angel, standing near My bedpost one dark night, When I first set my eyes on her, She was such a wondrous sight. She then smiled at me so softly And caressed my furrowed brow, She spoke in a tongue so strange to me But I understood her;…
Peter Bruffell
5th March 2008
Poetry

Fishes in the pond

Rising fishes in the pond Everyday I feed, I have the food to keep them near, So I give them all they need. They come whenever I walk by, Like children, clinging tight. They sleep with eyes, still open wide And pass away the night. In a million years, when…
Peter Bruffell
1st March 2008
Poetry

Just passing through

They’re diggin’ a hole for me down in the ground, Under that tree, just where I was found, They’re diggin’ it deep, so deep you can’t see, Down to the bottom; where they will lay me, They’re making a box, not so far away, With hammer and nail, but no…
Peter Bruffell
27th February 2008
Poetry

The Burly Policeman

A Policeman patient was on the ward one day, To have his cartilage cut away. He was six feet tall, weighed sixteen stone, The kind of man when in trouble you’d phone. In bed seven, he did stay, He laughed and joked the day away. Christine and Justin had him…
Peter Bruffell
24th February 2008