Poetry corner
Posted: 16/08/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner 2 CommentsPortaloo Blues
By Godfrey Butterwings
There is no light at the end of the tunnel
It’s just dark and empty, like Sally Gunnel
Must have been feeling when she lost a race
Disappointment and gloom is something we all must face
As we grow older, we’re supposed to get wiser
But I’m just getting mean and more of a miser
My portaloo hiring business has gone down the pan
Now I’m about as much use as Han
Solo without Chewbacca, that great big
Grizzly man bear, much better than Leia, just couldn’t hack her
I’m broke cos nobody wants to hire my lavatories
Just drifting along in my life like Denise
Van Outen without a celebrity bash to attend
This is what I’m facing, with what I must contend
Oh! I wish I could be a wookie, carrying a space gun
And having fur, that would be brilliant, but life isn’t fair
Otherwise my portaloo business would be doing well
Mrs Butterwings would love me, my life would be swell
But now like the band I have one direction
I must get a cure for my erection dysfunction
There is no light at the end of the tunnel
It’s just dark and empty with no hope of redemption
Poetry corner
Posted: 15/08/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: bad, cardigan, funny, lost property, poetry, woolly Leave a commentThe Lonely Cardigan – by Joanna Diskettes
Better times
As I cling to this cold stair rail,
Alone but never mardy,
I contemplate my lifetime,
As your favourite Cardie
Was it that I didn’t fit right?
Not protect you from the chill?
Do I now offend your sight?
That was not my woolly will
A happier time from this – my worst,
From charity shop you bought me,
And though you weren’t by far my first,
You’re now my one and only
My fate it now seems signed and sealed,
A lifetime lost in limbo,
Come back my saviour I will plead,
All sweaters are just bimbos
Poetry corner
Posted: 09/08/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: almost funny, funghi, oak, poetry, trunk, weird poetry 5 CommentsThe mighty oak – by Judy Juxtapositions
I wood…
I threw my hand down hard,
Upon it’s gnarly bark,
It bit back with a shard,
A splinter like a shark
I’m desperate by now to see,
Its rings, its roots and fungi,
And difficult it is for me,
To fall for just any one tree.
Its filthy leaves and taunting trunk,
Beckoning like an oaky hunk,
Some think I should know better by now,
Oh those dirty-minded boughs.
To those that damn me – if they could,
Be out alone and spanking wood,
Their minds would change within a flash,
To come across a nice young Ash
Oh those waving hungry boughs…
Poetry corner
Posted: 24/07/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: bad rhyming, dumplings, funny, Inuit, poetry, Spartan, toast, trolley, valium Leave a commentTrolley Folly – by Humphrey Grottle
Even on the beach, I’ll be watching you…
Seconded by unanimous motion,
The trolley caused a depth of emotion,
Remembering’s of campsites, Valium and toast,
That teddy that Julie had liked the most.
Grabbing the carton,
Feel like a Spartan!
Twixt the fingers,
Find the beast
Trolleys shouldn’t cause these thoughts,
Like shoes on impulse hastily bought,
Dumplings cook gently while the dog looks on,
But in her mind the trolley still shone.
Grasping the Inuit,
Feel like a bis-cu-it!
Minus the soft bit,
Flush out the brush.
‘Get out!’ cried Julie ‘I’ve had my fill!’
The trolley trundled towards the ghostly till,
Imagine a Kit-Kat coming for dinner,
The trolley still going and clearly the winner
Holding the wash-mitt,
Feeling like a twit,
She doesn’t give a monkeys,
Julie jogs on…
Bis-cu-it? Really? Well, more poetry again soon dear reader!
Poetry corner
Posted: 07/06/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: broadway, even more goats, funny, goats, more goats, poetry Leave a commentSome goats are just a bit like that – by Hoff Bettersmudge
Billy’s rendition of Horace Vandergelder in Hello Dolly! was very well received…
It’s funny to think that long ago,
Goats were oft’ in Broadway shows,
It didn’t matter that far back,
Some goats are just a bit like that
They often hung around backstage,
After their latest sell-out play,
For drinks and nibbles and having the craic,
Some goats are just a bit like that
Often they would tread the boards,
To delight their most admiring hoards,
Until the stage lights fade to black,
Some goats are just a bit like that
Critics said debauched behaviour,
Was not something for one to savour,
Their fans stood up and answered back,
Some goats just aren’t a bit like that
Well, another post involving goats – how original. Next we’ll be mentioning a particular supermarket far too often or something… More poetry soon, no doubt.
Poetry corner
Posted: 24/05/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: cardigans make me look fat, Cor blimey guvnor, I've lost my sausages Leave a commentThe Golden Rush
by Bertram Tool
Ah, the involuntary fart at the urinal
It gives no warning of its arrival
Old Charlie is released into the open air
All fresh, free, naked and bare
All geed up for that first push
And that lovely relieving golden rush
Wandering minds turn to sport
Or that worrying day in court
As the spray foams around the pan
It’s a lovely time for any man
But then suddenly you become a little hot
What’s that tension around the bot?
A quick look around; is anyone there?
Can I really do a fart in here?
There really is nothing to be done
To stop this train, it’s no fun
Panic stricken clenching is the last resort
Keep telling yourself you’ve got to stay taught!
But Mother Nature she knows better
Just pray to your god that it won’t be wetter
Than the one you did when being examined by that nurse
That was bad, this could be worse!
For the love of Christ what is this curse?
It’s a battle in your pants the scale of Waterloo
Here it comes; choo, chip, chip, choooooo…
The smoke is clearing, the battle is done
Did you lose or was the fight won?
Another look around; the cubicles are free,
Until the next time you pop for a pee….
Poetry corner
Posted: 22/04/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: beard, bunnyboiler, devilled chicken, Kevin, large animals, smarmy Leave a commentThe Crisp Shirt – by Tracey Ultimatum
Perhaps just a little smaller?
Poor Kevin, poor Kevin,
Oh are you a fool?
Did kids tease your beard,
When you went to school?
You used to look neat,
But now somewhat dishevelled,
Your scary wife beats you,
With chicken that’s devilled.
Shirts once crisp,
Enough for the army,
If you had a lisp,
You’d sound far less smarmy.
You need a pet,
But give it some thought,
Don’t buy a big one,
It makes you look short.
Kevin please your little quips,
Far away from being fantastic,
Look at me and read my lips,
Are always tediously sarcastic.
Poetry corner
Posted: 12/03/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: Bill Oddie, Ford Escort, kestrels, syrup 4 CommentsSugared Kestrels
by Bertram R Crumpet
I think I’m in love with Bill Oddie,
It’s not his beard or sinewy body
No, it’s not either of those as nice as they are
It’s not his Ford Escort although that is a nice car
What I love about Bill Oddie
Is the way he chortles and chirrups
Every time he pours out the syrup
So glad is he of the sugary snack
You’d think it was a lump of crack
Ah Bill Oddie and your sweet-toothed habit
He’s not a fan of a weasel or a rabbit
No it’s birds that he has on his brain
An owl, an ostrich or maybe a crane
Perhaps on a robin he should pour
Some syrup or sugar – more and more
His recipe is bound to be a hit….
Sugared kestrels and a caramelised tit
Poetry corner
Posted: 13/02/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: comedy, funny, ladies, poetry, scampi, shoes, strange Leave a commentScampi shoes – by Darren Bilgejump
A pair of scampi shoes sit on the beach and dream of life back in the open sea…
The man he is becomes a who,
When he wears his scampi shoe,
When time to eat he always tries,
To consume packs of Scampi Fries
Because the ladies love him too,
When he shows his scampi shoe,
Breeds jealousy in in other guys,
With scampi he barely has to try
The secret to disguise the smell,
He dabs on fragrant greasy gel,
Will he ever be the same,
The scampi shoe that is now tamed
Poetry Corner
Posted: 01/02/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: cricket, diet, fail, fudge, funny, pebbles, poetry 1 CommentHuffing for pebbles – by Verity Spikeflume
Not the best effort all things considdered.
Taken on the face of it,
I think that I have been hit,
By culture and some awesome scenes,
And beer produced from pubs with beams
I believe the man that tells me that,
He pokes crickets with a cricket bat,
Although I have to have suspicion,
I think that he’s a dietician.
Bless this beagle that cross’eth my path,
And feed him fudge that’s made in Bath,
Bleat like a crocus and shine like a moat,
Huffing pebbles is a peculiar quote
And reader, while you read this drivel,
Your brain will most likely shrivel,
As I’m sure that you’re all aware,
This week’s poem is a bit rubbish.
monkeybroth 