I provide a unique and entertaining blend of lighthearted, comic and reflective poetry and short monologues - all written by me and entirely 'family friendly' (so no bad language to worry about). I have two readings available, each approximately 70 minutes in duration and I especially enjoy interacting with an audience. As a playwright and poet, I have written over 60 uplifting poems and monologues which are in the style of Pam Ayres, Spike Milligan and Alan Bennett (and as a guitarist and singer-songwriter I have written over 30 songs).

With many years of performance experience and a bronze winning comic monologue in the Global Finals of the World Monologue Games in 2024, you can be guaranteed an entertaining time. I have placed four poems below to give you a feel of my poetry and although I presently only provide readings in Hertfordshire/west Essex/north and north-west London, if you are further away please contact me as I may be able to arrange a reading.

Each time I give a reading, I also like to spread a little happiness further afield by donating £5.00 of my fee to the charity Healing Little Hearts, who carry out free life saving heart surgery on babies and children in the poorest parts of the world. Thank you.

Giraffes

There’s something about giraffes which I really really love. I think it’s the way they move and how they tower high above.

They’re calm and nice and quiet, in fact they’re rather elegant, my very favourite animal, in second place – the elephant.

There’s nothing else like them, I’m sure they’re pretty bright, with eyelashes so very long and a tongue that’s quite a sight.

I wouldn’t mind taking one home but only for a day. I’d sneak it out of London Zoo while everyone’s away.

I’d feed it treats and walk it on a lead for all to see. I’d show it all the sights and sounds and then I’d set it free.

Onwards and Upwards

I’ve set the ball rolling and put things in motion, I’ve fired the starting gun.

I’m going upstream now and climbing that mountain, while knowing I’ve just begun.

I’m singing five octaves, I’ve reached supersonic, I’m walking on burning coals.

I’ve jumped from the top board, I’m free from my shadow and starting to reach my goals.

The train has departed, I’m taking my chances and jumping through hoops at last.

I’ve mastered high tightropes and won uphill battles, I’m learning my lessons fast.

I’ve cleared all the hurdles, I’m swimming the Channel, I’ve bungee jumped and I’ve survived.

The answers are clear now, so nothing can stop me, I feel that my time has arrived.

Al Fresco Fiasco

Pete runs a little café in the heart of Winchmore Hill. He thought he’d increase business with a continental feel.

The finest outdoor dining under warm, blue cloudless skies. He’s bought a pavement licence to place furniture outside.

Being a true romantic he would dream of starlit nights, a little touch of Paris, tables lit by candlelight.

Sophisticated eating for long summer nights and days. To create an ambience, well, at least that’s what he says.

But in reality…

It’s getting rather nippy and our lips are turning blue. Our noses are all dripping and I might have frostbite too.

The table cloth has blown off, condiments have disappeared. Skip the ice and lemon – we’ve got icicles on our ears.

We’re sitting in a hailstorm as it reaches gale force nine. Hope I won’t get pneumonia, as I pour some more red wine.

The fishcakes have re-frozen, my gazpacho’s watered down. A cold minus five wind chill and we really go to town.

I’d like to ask for the bill but my upper lip has stuck. There’s been some minor flooding and we see a floating truck.

These aren’t ideal conditions, it’s not a normal spring but a chance to eat al fresco? Wouldn’t miss it for anything.

I’ve Got The Strictly Blues

Now that Strictly’s off the box I’ve come to a loose end. There’s no more voting on the phone or Craig’s marks to offend.

Forget the sparkles from now on, or fake tans ‘til next year. Gossiping will have to stop on who’s lost weight I fear.

I’ll miss Claude’s fringe and humour, Tess keeps it all afloat. The artifice pretending it’s a Sunday gets my goat.

Those friendly nods have finished from Dave Arch and his band. That music’s done and dusted and I’m feeling rather bland.

I need another quickstep, those flashing lights are cooI. How will I survive a week without a glitter ball?

I want to watch a samba, or mark down on a waltz. It’s not quite in ‘the spirit’, I know – I’ve got my faults.

That celeb’s got no rhythm, he’s telling silly jokes. He can’t score more than seven, you can’t please all the folks.

Len would not have liked to see all that ‘faffing about’. I bet she’s out by week two… in Blackpool – she’s still not out!

I’ve never been a dancer, I’m not light on my feet. In fact I’m rather clumsy, I cannot feel the beat.

So when I watch them dancing, I really am in awe. I cannot wait ‘till next time so I’ve booked to see the tour.

Copyright © Marc Harris 2025