Will it flop on its face

This is the first attempt at a cover design for my new book:

Will it fall on my head?

What do you think? I would really appreciate some honest and direct feedback, as I am unsure if my approach will work. Of course what I am looking for is something to grab attention. Specific questions, if anyone cares to answer them, are:

1. Does the design grab your attention / would you pick it up if you saw it in a bookstore?
2. Does it reflect the content (see below for examples) which is mostly 'serious' but with some quirky/funny stuff? And does it matter if it doesn't? I ask this because if I featured my serious writing about love and death I don't think it would get much interest.
3. What do you think about the use of my full name: Raymond Grenville Taylor?

Any other comments or thoughts gratefully received. I always use Ray Taylor in anything other than publishing fiction. Problem is, there are so many published Taylors, including Ray Taylor, which is also the name of a movie director. Even when I used my middle initial I found that there was another published Raymond G. Taylor. Though I have never liked my middle name (my father said it was after the explorer Sir Richard Grenville) at least it is unusual enough that there are unlikely to be other Raymond Grenvilles in print.

I designed this cover myself. While I am always happy to work with good designers and illustrators, I spend too much on my self-publishing activities and do not add to the cost. More importantly, finding designers and illustrators I can work with is difficult and it is generally easier to realise my own ideas if I do the job myself. Not so hard these days with the availability of digital tools. This was done in Word and Paint, with the illustration of course provided with the assistance of an 'AI.'

The typeface for the title is "Chiller" which I chose in attempt to find a font with a horror but comedic feel. My book is definitely not to be taken seriously. I am hoping that by leading with a mock-horror poem (again see below) I will be more likely to find readers than if I stick to being a 'serious' poet. This in turn will hopefully draw the reader into my less tongue-in-cheek work.

What's it all about? Well, not surprisingly, most of the content has previously appeared in this wonderful community and I am grateful for the positive feedback I have had from many friends here. Most of them are linked here, but not in the same running order, which I think is crucial to winning and keeping a reader:

Here are the first four poems in the current running order, which I may change. I am trying to provide a contrast in pace and subject/seriousness:

1. Will it fall on my head?
2. Ask me in December
3. Little coffee cup
4. Three swimmers

Will it fall on my head?

Will it fall on my head

That great ship in the sky?

Will it get me in bed

When it ceases to fly?

Will it make faces red

When they say: So sorry,

Though we aimed for the sea,

The wreck went astray,

Hence the slight glitch,

But... hey...

Ain't life a bitch?

Ask me in December

Don’t ask me to remember

Your gentle touch,

Our fleeting brush with...

Well, you know.

Romantic illusion, youthful delusion,

Unbreakable connection. Your recollection?

Mine is sweet. Bitter? Perhaps.

Let’s not dwell on that,

Because we were young, full of…

Well… love. If love’s what it was.

Yes, that’s the word. Absurd, it may seem.

Half in a dream, we fell into longing,

Or at least into bed and, it has to be said,

The gymnastics were welcome

And seldom repeated to that serene level.

It’s hard now to capture

The bliss, the rapture,

Wrought from the fact that we shagged the night through,

Knew what we wanted, took it,

Embraced it: our base, lustful need.

Greedily celebrating our passion, possession,

Love’s new-found lesson.

A time long ago, now, hard to know

How we fell for each other.

Another age past. The bliss couldn’t last.

I hear now the eulogy, passive invitee.

Your husband (widower), children, friends, family.

How did you know her?

Friend, I will say,

Long time ago,

Mere acquaintance, you know.

Cling to April’s sweet memory,

Now in my autumn, your winter full come.

Ask me in December,

When my days are done.

Little coffee cup

Oh, little cup, I fill you up

With coffee in the morning.

And when my spirits start to flag,

Another stops me yawning.

Three swimmers

I saw a maiden by the shore

Beneath a starlit sky.

Swimming in the waves she was,

Shameless in her nudity.

Earth, ocean, sky and woman

Were but one enduring memory.

Brighter than the starlight ran

Atop her foaming destiny.

I saw a mother by the shore

Beneath a starlit sky.

Swimming in the waves she was,

Shameless in her nudity.

Her haunting presence left a trail,

Her body soft and sleek yet found,

Her legs were surely mermaid's tail,

Poseidon's daughter, ocean bound.

I saw a lady by the shore,

Her argent hair a comet's tail.

Not a stitch of clothing wore

This lady of the water, frail.

Would, dear madam, you could take

This landsman's hand and make

A merman of me I would own

To join you in your briny home.

Alas, dear sir, it cannot be,

For sorceress I am not, I say.

On your dry land you must remain,

Watch o'er the shoreline when you may.

And should you see in yonder blue

My watery being you would know

That you may hold my image true,

As deep below the waves I go.

Thanks for reading