Poetry corner
Posted: 28/01/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: broom, funny, granny, mushrooms, poetry, Tea, terrible Leave a comment
Oooo…. splash it on.
Granny’s tea legs – By Hildred Crackernoun
Davie always did enjoy,
Finding Granny’s tea legs,
And posting images online,
Of his favourite sexy tent pegs
Granny’s grunting knew no bounds,
Her grimace was alarming,
Her mumping dog upon a lead,
Her handbag used for farming
She oft hung out of windows,
And whooped at passing mushrooms,
She always tried to throw things,
A sturdy handled yard broom
The bit that Davie liked the best
And all his friends agreed,
Granny sitting on a chest,
Legs drenched in sugary tea
Poetry corner
Posted: 04/01/2013 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: amusing, funny, guillemot, motorway, Nokia, poetry, toilet Leave a commentFried Green Guillemot at the Taunton Deane Services – by Fresty Stables
The M5 some time ago.
The pilot of his trusty steed,
Denzel pulled over to relieve his need,
M5 and coffee combo decreed,
A stop at hallowed Taunton Deane
Past the tempting flashing lights,
Slot machines offering cash delights,
Towards the phone shop offering bits,
A charger ancient Nokia’s fit
The Gents beckons with toilet stalls,
A place to let his trousers fall,
To stare hard at urinal cakes,
Or for that movement long since baked
Before his goal was gratefully reached,
His single minded mission was breached,
A stall that once sold travel socks,
Now sells Fried Green Guillemot
Denzel greed now firmly in mind,
Joined the queue for this new find,
But sadly his bladder could take no more,
His shame leaked out on to the floor
Poetry corner
Posted: 10/12/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: Feet, fun, gimpy, otters, poetry, trotters 1 CommentRun! Scamper! Gimpy Pete! – by Olec Grantspiel
Some feet. Yes, those are feet.
Run gimpy Pete,
Run on your gimpy feet,
Run up hills and also bits that are flat,
Run like the neighbour’s cat cat cat!
Scamper gimpy Pete,
Scamper using your gimpy feet,
Scamper over flax fields and also occasional otters,
Scamper up like your legs are like trotters trotters trotters
Poetry corner
Posted: 27/10/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: anger, crisps, ears, morning star, teenager, vole Leave a commentThe aggressive crisp – by Brannigan McCoy
Crisps. Lethal in the wrong hands.
Thrown in anger like a morning star,
The twang of the crisp shattering on my car door,
What brought on this rage from a normal teenager?
Maybe deep-seated reports of shark attack dangers
For this teenager with crisp-dust strewn on upper lip,
Spouting his anger and losing his grip,
Is shouting some nonsense about ‘frumping some chissle’,
That might not be right but it sounded like drivel
So I halted my journey on route to the Vets,
To collect my vole from having its ears reset,
And alighted my vehicle to step to the curb,
To investigate why this teen is perturbed
And then suddenly thought it was only a crisp,
Thrown from his hand with a flick of the wrist,
No matter why this bile came to me with a frown,
I got back in my car and ran the chap down.
Poetry corner
Posted: 12/10/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: aeroplane, biro, eygpt, gargoyle, spout Leave a commentGrotesque spout – by Foppy Squeeze-Cheese
Coooeeeeee…
As they taxied across,
The cracked asphalt byway,
Fiona the legend,
Was engrossed in some word-play,
A Puzzler mag,
A cheerfully chewed biro,
A grab-bag of Revels,
And a ticket to Cairo
An air-fare paid,
By hazardous means,
Fiona tucked in,
To her aeroplane beans
‘But these are not Heinz’,
She complained to the crew,
It was clear to them,
That Fiona rarely flew
As the plane touched down,
On Egyptian soil,
Fiona triumphed at last,
Seven across – ‘Gargoyle’
Poetry corner
Posted: 19/09/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: amazing poetry, beautiful poetry, brilliant poetry, moving poetry, potatoes Leave a commentFeelings are like potato pealings – by Mary Marmot
My love for him drained away
Like soap no good today
George came back from the late night garage
With a bag of crisps the ones with the ridge
Too late was he to save my love
He pushed me down; gave me a shove
Battered was my body and face
As if I were chipshop plaice
Caught him cheating with a rubik cube
Stickers in his pants and an errant pube
Oh George, oh George you silly boy
How can you do it with a toy?
He said the cube it did not nag
Nor looked like a bed-ridden hag
But George my shingles keep me ill
I’m sorry I no longer thrill
But George has moved to some new whore
Rubbing up and down my Connect Four
Why oh why did you do it to me – oh!
And pop upstairs with the Subbuteo?
Oh George, stop flirting with the Buckaroo
Don’t you know it makes me so blue?
My feelings are like potato peelings
With George I shall have no more dealings
Poetry corner
Posted: 20/08/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: boats, Cake, cheese, crayons, furious, gout, moles, Quentin Blake Leave a commentGary did it – By Jimmy Spaff
A lion. For no particular reason.
He did you know,
I saw him too,
Gave him legs,
Of daring do,
He swims like crayons,
In seas of Rainham,
Gary did it,
In the Planetarium
He folded the cheese,
Like a Spaniard cake,
I based his head,
On Quentin Blake,
Sun bleached quads,
Of furious moles,
Gary did it,
On gout-filled shoals
Did you see him,
Does he know,
Boats are chasing,
His old baby grows,
Most like a fleeting,
Of chaps looking grim,
Gary did it,
I bloody well saw him
Poetry corner
Posted: 25/07/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: deeds, divorce, free, fwap, poetry, sausage, Scouts Leave a commentDolphins of Dagenham – by Hanky Meatspin
Bang!
The divorce,
That ripped that family into a whole three quarters,
Wantonly spoke at the cat in Dutch paint
Fwap!
The letter,
That signalled the end of days around the spoon,
Talking of deeds never spoken of then
Boingggggg!
His cheques,
Written in jest of days when they were once happened of yet,
Spoken words on tea towels
Changgggggggggg!
The sound of closure,
Closing closily in a closing way backwards,
Moisture clinging from Scouts
Spang!
The fork of destiny,
Hanging like a sausage around their cloaks,
They leave
Poetry corner
Posted: 28/06/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner | Tags: Barnsley, boat, gibbous, gravy, loot, Minstrel, mouse, snoot Leave a comment
Captions are hard sometimes OK?
Minstrel holes – by Bobby Biddy
Scant were the words of Geraldine’s mouse,
That lived out days in Minstrel holes
Gravid once was her lived in spouse
Played once for Barnsley and scored no goals
Gravy boats danced,
Gravy boats spurned,
Gravy boat cocked her a snoot,
Gravy boats turned
Gravy boats jumped
Gravy boats pillaged for loot
She glanced at frost ‘cross the Lillo,
Formed where once there were fields,
Reminisced while she peered through the shadow,
And thought ‘pon her days as a shield
Gravy boats danced,
Gravy boats spurned,
Gravy boat formed coalitions,
Gravy boats turned
Gravy boats jumped
Gravy boats on special missions
Her faded Formica told a few tales,
Of life on the open road and bathroom glue,
And nant it did bimp flont gibbousy nails
And bibidy bobbidy boo
Gravy boats danced,
Gravy boats spurned,
Gravy boat bounced around Clapham,
Gravy boats turned
Gravy boats jumped
Gravy boats talked to the tax man
Poetry corner
Posted: 18/06/2012 Filed under: Poetry corner, Uncategorized | Tags: ericaceous, floral, hat, milk, thunk Leave a commentThe Floral Hat by Margetea Flappys
Hattage.
To wither your hat so floral be,
That hat betched on fine memories,
Snunched from ericaceous bottled grasp,
Drunk from a hidden hip flask
Asked gurunder hats contentious tilt,
Fleeced of all its Mother’s Milk,
I mithered around a musky thunk,
And bothered memoires hastily shrunk
Madeleicly shong the beasts away,
Himpingly greened and kept at bay,
Bamping and fluntingly you beefed a chat,
Due to the gant of your floral hat
monkeybroth 