Tuesday, November 11, 2025

I Haven't Got A Thing To Wear 687 by Angela Lansbury

 I haven't got a thing to wear

I won't buy wigs nor dye my hair

The problem is I've summer clothes

My winter ones are lost in those


I can't shop wearing a swimsuit

A swim hat looks wrong buying fruit

Stained item? Cut, make patch, or rag

Lost button! Throw in my sew bag


Now I see my Christmas jumper

Found my old favourite number

I'm pleased and proud I'm in control

Sorting is so good for the soul.


Instead of wasting all my time

Browsing to buy more clothes on line

I'll view my spare room as a treasure

A home jumble sale of pleasure


Shall I wear these old things in grey?

I ought to throw them all away

No. Sell them. Yes. Another day

I don't have enough time today


Searching my own clothes takes my time

Tiring, but won't cost me a dime

Pretend it's a fun thing to do

Long-lost items look good as new. 

-ends-

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I could change the last line to

Vintage, long-lost, looks good as new. Dime is American but most Brits would understand it is a small coin. From the song, Brother, can you spare a dime, a Depression days song, sung by Bill Crosby, Dean Martin and Sinatra.

Sunday, November 9, 2025

Alive? Eternal Thrive, comical poem 686 by Angela Lansbury

 Some say that we're all dying from the moment we are born

Some say live in the moment, others treat philosophy with scorn

Some die early, going mental, some outlive their teeth, all problems dental


From a cockroach point of view, insects score a point or two

Teenagers are likely to survive those middle-aged and half alive

We hope all babies thrive, and live lives healthy and long

Run marathons and are strong, so nothing will go wrong


If you follow a religion it promises us all heaven

Where we'll live sixes and sevens

With ancient Egyptian men, and all the enemies

Exes and insects we hoped we'd never see again.

-ends-

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In the long run, they out-run us, though I think humans have more fun

If we evaluate evolution, which one of us has won?

Each Time I Walk Down The Road comical poem / song 685 by Angela Lansbury


 Each time that I walk down the road

I look at your former abode

On the far corner of the street

I remember when we would meet


I met you late, so late, in life

My fate fixed at a garden fete

Both alone, parted from our mate

So we made a romantic date


You came round one Saturday night

I dreamed of how you'd hold me tight

You gave me a bunch of flowers

We talked joyfully for hours


I thought that we were fixed for life

I'd be your happy second wife

But no, I was wrong, what went wrong?

I pushed too soon, came on too strong


Your words now echo in my head

'You like me more than I like you

I'm sorry but what I must do

Is get my coat, goodbye, thank you


'I'm glad I came, but you should know

Because we're bound to meet again

So, although this romance must end

I'm sure that we can still stay friends.'


I won't mope,  but no longer hope

So long ago it seems a dream

But I remember with pleasure

That night's first moment I treasure


For a year or two, I saw you

Sometimes when I walked down the road

When I passed your childhood abode.

You'd called on your mum. So I halloed


For one moment you'd look at me

You'd smile pleased, sorry, knowingly, 

Then look back over your shoulder

And say, 'It's late. I have to go'


Your mother died, you never cried

I joined you at the funeral

I showed my husband your new wife

Sad, glad, we'd all moved on in life


Your house for sale, your house was sold

The house, like me, was growing old

The flowers gone, another face

A concrete drive, a different place


I still see you on the internet

 I should forget, but remember

As I walk down the rebuilt road

Where others rebuilt your abode.


I think as I walk down the road

Of you, young, in your old abode.

As I walk down the now changed road

Still haunted by your old abode.

-ends-

Written listening to Country music.

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Muddle Trouble Over Countries And Flags comical poem 684 by Angela Lansbury

When you travel you stop to sample local food and drink

But the words on the menu make you stop and think

Don't translate nor remember words you learned last year

From some other country which on the map looks near


Don't ask for Greek coffee when you are in Turkey

'though Cypriot coffee might seem all Greek to you

Lebanon and the Saudis serve 'strong coffee' by another name

You have to learn a dozen words, but the coffee's just the same 


If you get in a muddle you get in a lot of trouble

It may help or hinder memory if you start seeing double

But people from one country aren't another, that's not right

They will soon correct you and make sure you see the light


The Scottish are now British but don't call them English

Although they speak English adding words which are Scottish 

People from Canada aren't from the USA

'though travelers (US spelling) worldwide say 'Have a nice day'


People from New Zealand are not from Australia

Both countries flags have a small Union Jack

And a lot of little stars, but Aussies will tell you

The one with the big star's ours.


As for country's capitals, for me they're a mystery

They change names, shift, not the big tourist city

Capitals move when they sink or get too busy

Is South Africa's Pretoria? Yes - but it has three.

-ends-

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Friday, November 7, 2025

Day Broke And I Woke comical poem 683 by Angela Lansbury

A happy sound. Somebody spoke.

They made a joke. Nudged me and poked.

I saw the light. I knew day broke.

I tried to sleep. No good. I woke.


You have to rise when nature calls

I felt dizzy and grabbed the walls

Don't sway. Stand upright and don't fall

Small problems but I fixed them all


I clean my teeth, brush and toothpaste

Water. Don't waste. Then spit a bit

Washed hands, face, more, now I can sit

At my desk, to capture my wit


Early rising's good for the soul

I'm in control. It's a tonic

I take my first pill of the day

The label calls it Alendronic


The leaflet warns me, 'stay upright

For half an hour'. I do that right

Small simple things in my power

My mind's re-fuelled in the night


The clock told me I rose at six

I checked my list of things to fix 

Most days a porridge and nut mix

Today make do with Weetabix


I rose too soon, wait for my mate

He weighed out porridge, then we ate

Our breakfast helps me to lose weight

Helped by the size of my small plate


I do not like to multi-task

When I'm on a super diet

I chew each mouthful twenty times

Drink water, and enjoy quiet


Blueberries, kiwi, fibe fresh fruits.

Shower, thermals, long sleeves to wear

Choose one of six, red, sequined suits

Day-dream of yellow ordered boots


American-style we say

'Goodbye, darling. Have a good day!'

I wave goodbye. He doesn't stay. 

Runs on his way to work and play


To meet good friends. When this verse ends

I shall click send, to my best friends

Let verses go, good things to show

To more dear souls I don't yet know


So in a while we all can laugh

Wipe up news bile, goodwill not guile

If something's nice, like cooking rice

In a trice say it twice, even thrice



I'm so happy! The world can see

Youngsters ask me the recipe -

Each day ensure good words are heard

Like shaking hands with other lands


At eighty I'll be worldly wise

Give praise and never criticize

Send souvenirs of laughing eyes,  

Spread by my smile, delight, surprise.


First Draft

Who spoke?

Or poked?

Day broke and

I woke


Just nature calls

I grab the walls

So I don't fall

I've fixed it all


I clean my teeth

And spit a bit

And then I sit

At my desk and

Capture my wit


Early rising

Is a tonic

Take a pill called

Alendronic


The box says 'stay upright

Half an hour'

Small simple things

Are in my power


It's only six

Thoughts I must fix

'Not yet eat nix'

Dream Weetabix


Wait for my mate

He weighed, we ate

Our breakfast

Only half a plate


On a diet

All was quiet


I eat fresh fruits

I shower and wear

One of seven red suits

Dream of yellow boots


And then we say

'Have a good day'

I wave goodbye

He's on his way

To work or play


To meet good friends

When this verse ends

I shall click send

To my good friends


Let verses go

Something to show

To more dear souls

I don't yet know


And in a while

We all can laugh

Wipe up news bile

Goodwill not guile


If something's nice

Like cooking rice

I'll say it twice

Or thrice, in a trice


I'm so happy

The world can see

You can come to me

And ask for the recipe


I can ensure

Good words are heard

Like shaking hands

With other lands


Add laughing eyes

A small surprise

To share my smile

Spread my big smile.

-end-

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Sunday, November 2, 2025

Musical Management At The Old Bridge comical poem 682 by Angela Lansbury



New View

The ivy-clad old bridge hotel

See the old bridge beyond the well 

Websites reveal past, boss won't tell 

Its wine dinners can still outsell


Times change, you put new owners in

Retire, you pass old owners out

The old owner consults, watches

Joyful newcomers dance about


No doubt there's bound to be a rout

Hurray, a new manager's in

Sorry, an old manager's out

In, out, and shake titles about


A manager deserted us

I heard he went with half the staff

Ambition's no sin, well done him

Promotion for us other half

Breakfast

Old customers keen on croissant

Black pudding? Puzzled, smile in doubt

'Where's the old chef? Are you new, too?

What's this month's menu all about?'


The manager's our brand new friend

We chatted through lovely dinners

Some discount deal is where this ends 

Happy customers are winners


We over-ate whipped mystery cream

And sniffed and spit out tannic wine

We video whispered drama

Record. Lip read another time


The old bridge hotel

Is still doing well

The old bridge and the old hotel

Have stories I guess but I can't tell.

To Bed

We admire the painted the woodwork

Looks like they've carpeted the stairs

So long as they are serving, no customer cares

If managers are playing musical chairs

-ends-

I copied the first verse to the last verse. Then decided to change it, as if the narrator now knew more but would not reveal it. The last line read Have stories I will but won't tell. Moving from they to I as if I was now part of the conspiracy of silence or secrets. (Or just afraid of slander or libel action.) 

My final version was stories I guess but can't tell. The word guess retains the air of mystery, with customers still not knowing what is going on. As is so often the case in hotels, conferences, clubs, committees with conflicts, big organizations.

Thursday, October 30, 2025

The Good Old Days comical poem 681 by Angela Lansbury

 In the good old days, yes, the good old days!

Were there really any good old days?

Or was there only one, when I had fun?

When restaurants and hotels had someone who got things done?


When I was single, I stayed home alone

And wanted to find a husband

And I looked everywhere, in a city of millions

But I found none, not even one


In the good old days, yes, the good old days

We started schooldays with songs of praise

We didn't know that three religions were certain God was one

And another group of millions said many more, and one said none


In the good old days, when were the good old days?

The days when life was simple and I was young

Heaven was in the sky, everyone went there

There was no hell, no-one would die, nor tell a lie


In the good old days, my mother said

You did not know what others thought

You only knew what you were taught

Sundays the shops were closed, yet no-one was bored nor fraught


My mother told me when she was young

Before she saw the news, before the war

The War was world war two, the other one was world war one

Paper was thick and heavy, Churchill and the British won


We did not know that France, Canada and the USA

All thought that they had made the difference

And won in Europe, or in Asia, which celebrated on another day

We thought that Jesus was alive, born everywhere, since he died, only on December 25


After the good old days, everything changed

We learned the calendar was run by the sun

Or by the moon, one year everyone lost a year,

The year without a sun, then everyone was really glum



Christmas could be the 26th, January 5th or 6th,

 Jesus could be born another year, another day

Or never born at all, some thought that way

And other people believed in conspiracy


That nobody had landed on the moon

You did not need a band, just one singer to croon

You had real strawberries! Only in June,

Then enlightenment, one's personal middle ages, came too soon


Some thought that the whole world was a myth

A dream, others debated philosophy

And said they thought therefore they were

But they never thought of you and me


In the good old days, people thought the world was flat

(It's really round, but), some people still think that

In the good old days, monsters were below your bed

Monsters grew, like migraines, and nightmares, only inside your head


You believed all that was said, and didn't know

That all the people in the history books told lies, and were dead

And most people fondly quoted never said 

What you thought (and everyone said) that they had said


The good old days, yes, the good old days

The days when innocent little children sang songs of praise

Children did not throw stones, and no-one lived alone

Then nobody had strikes, and everyone had bikes


Maybe the good old days will come again

When all our friends will be old men

And we'll talk about the good old days

Use computers, mobile phones, and watches to call our friends

And wonder how we coped, back then.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems. My latest book is called Embarrassing Moments and you can see the cover and buy it on websites Amazon.co.uk and lulu.com  - plus several of my older books, comical poetry on pets, Poetry WorkBook - writing poetry an A Z including limericks and villanelles. Also Quick Quotations.  Who Said When When