Poetry corner

Framley wants a goose – By Hilary Insertcoin

Furious Goose

A great companion for any young lad.

Framley such a nice young boy,
Received a multitude of toys,
Upon his birthday – why so sad?
What troubles this upstanding lad?

When asked just what the problem was,
He told them that it was because,
A waterfowl was more required,
A feathered friend was most desired

“I told you mum
And you too dad,
I just love geese,
It’s not a fad!”

“The other gifts are nice and all,
I love the prostitute and ball,
But I implore I am so fond,
The thought of geese upon our pond”

His loving parents racked with guilt,
Had also purchased him a quilt,
But what was used to stuff this gift?
Their answer back was not too swift


Poetry corner

The Lonely Cardigan – by Joanna Diskettes

Cardie mourning

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

The mighty oak – by Judy Juxtapositions

a lovely lovely oak

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

Trolley Folly – by Humphrey Grottle

trolley on the beach

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

Some goats are just a bit like that – by Hoff Bettersmudge

Well, it's clearly a goat

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

Scampi shoes – by Darren Bilgejump

beach shoes

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

Huffing for pebbles – by Verity Spikeflume

Some pebbles

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.


Poetry corner

Tea

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

Fried Green Guillemot at the Taunton Deane Services – by Fresty Stables

M5

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

Run! Scamper! Gimpy Pete! – by Olec Grantspiel

Some feet. Yes, those are feet.

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