I Woke In The Night comical poem 700 by Angela Lansbury

 I woke in the night

I had a poem in my head

But I'd had less than 5 hours sleep

So I stayed in bed

Now the next day

My poem's gone away

I live in sixes and sevens

Night's lost poems in the heavens

If I believed in afterlife

Which is wishful thinking

I'd ask St Peter for my poems

Lost at night, or after drinking

Now I am in a dreadful distress

My poems have gone astray

Like parcels delivered to the wrong address

Which should have come my way.

I am hunting high and low

Where did those wonderful rhyming words go?

Not delivered the next day

Alas. you and I will never know.

-ends-

In case any reader was not aware of Christian mythology, St Peter is said to be the gatekeeper of heaven. Numerous jokes are about the questions St Peter puts to people who want to get in the gate. In this case I am at the gate, asking St Peter, like a postman, or a householder delivered the wrong parcel meant for another address, for the delivery of my lost poems.

I was rather pleased with these metaphors. Poems like parcels. The image of the poet knocking on doors. Hoping to find lost poems in heaven. St Peter like a porter holding deliveries. A poet queueing like someone at a post office for words to be delivered.

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My Friend's Two Teacups Gift Rediscovered comical poem 699 by Angela Lansbury

 My friend bought me two fine teacups

When she came, one of four, to stay

As a thank you when her clan left

With thanks, on the very last day

Shae and I were very close then

We talked of our hopes and fears

Years later, her husband left her

She phoned, she was ill, in tears

The two teacups were neglected

Not a match, like buyers remorse

Her gift hidden in a corner -

Her voice infrequent, and hoarse

The cups were pushed back, neglected

Sat in a lonely, distant place

I rarely washed dust collected

Replaced, like her forgotten face

We did not drink tea but coffee

We did not need them for our tea.

Then one day we needed soup bowls

Why not tea cups? Right size, and free

Yes, now the cups are out again

We love them, use them daily

Maybe I should call up my friend

Like the cups, retrieved so gaily

Often old garments, like old friends

Are still too good to throw away

After years they come back in use

Like an old dog's, new, treasured, day.

-ends-

Doctor Calls The Pub comical poem 698 by Angela Lansbury

 

The crowded Atlas pub, where I got a personal call from a doctor. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

Our wine tasting's Champagne then grub

Next Christmas party - via pub

My doctor calls me! I must have forgotten!

Body and mind must be going rotten

All doctors ask, 'How much are you drinking?'

Four drink rounds, what were they, and I, thinking!

Can't hear his questions, makes no sense

Noise, shout, about incontinence?

Now, on to gynaecology

Nobody shares, nobody cares

Pub's just the place for privacy

Drunk strangers, a doctor and me!

-ends-

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Sympathisers Upstaging My Illnesses comical poem 697 by Angela Lansbury

Walking frame and Bissell Magic Broom, dustpan and brush. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

' t's so good to see you again 

Great, meeting at clinics like this

You must be sick. Family well?

'I'll blow your dead uncle a kiss'

'Why don't we meet for tea? Just me!

I know the others won't meet you

I don't know why they don't like you

Forget them. You're okay by me.'

'How lovely of you to phone me

Wait, Dad fell from his wheelchair

I've twenty grandkids, an art class

Can't talk - dashing everywhere!'

'I'm sorry you've got skin cancer

Glad to hear it's only stage three

I've stage four, Covid, flu, lots more

Must rush off, I've doctors to see'

'I'm sorry to hear you were sick

Trouble I see, with two big toes

I walk around, with a white stick

I've ten hammer toes just like those.'

'So, darling, please tell me what's new

Yes, we, too. had Covid, and flu

I've many to see, much to do.

Please call me, 'cause I won't call you.'

-ends-

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Rudy the Runaway Reindeer comical poem 696 by Angela Lansbury

 

Rudy the Runaway Reindeer

took off on a wet winter's day

It's family all called, 'Wish you were here

Stay here,' - but he sauntered away.

Everyone was out looking

The police did a search with a drone

The coastguard, even the Royal Marines

All wanted to help Rudy home

A thermal heat-seeking picture

Revealed where our lad fell asleep

He was over the moon, asleep by a dune

Thank God not lost in the deep

They escorted him safely home

An end to our worry and fears

As for Rudy, he'll tell his tale

Of his travel for many years.

-ends-

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cn5l209pn1wo

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My latest book is a book of anecdotes called Embarrassing Moments.

Empty Calendar poem number 695 by Angela

 Poe number 695

On the first day of the year

I have a new calendar

More than three hundred days to fill

I can do anything I will

To fill the year, if you are bored

There's a card for every season

A food, a dress, which more or less

At one time had a reason

Fashion will find new colours

And shops will find new goods

New flowers, leaves, trees and birds

In each city, river, or wood

Stealing An hour poem 694 by Angela Lansbury

My bedcover, red with white birds flying. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

 I know I ought to go to bed

When night time cleaners clear my head

Yet every night I stay up late

I've thoughts to write which cannot wait

I'm trying to give life meaning

I love the quiet of the night

Protect laughter, stop life's screaming

Postpone facing traffic noise, light

And yet I know that I'm stealing

Hours which belong to tomorrow

Like taking two biscuits, chocolates

Means less later, to my sorrow

Some say you steal from life's end

If in your youth sleep hours you spend

Who knows what fate will throw my way

I'll grab another hour today.

-ends.

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My latest book of anecdotes is Embarrassing Moments