A Poem About Myself And You. Comical poem 887 by Angela Lansbury.

 Who can I describe in songs and poetry?

Everyone speaks about seasons, and health. Love, death - or wealth

Outside the window - what do I see?

Old photos lie. But today's mirror shows me! 

I can wish and sigh. Laugh or cry

I can boast, I can roast 

I can praise. I'm the host. I can toast. 

Yes, no-one knows me better than me.

I can choose what's best to show

No-one will guess, nor ever know

What's left behind, if I have lied

About what's hidden deep inside

Before we explore the spiritual, and mystical

Let's keep things simple and start with the physical

Angela has blue eyes and long blonde hair

And bright red's the colour she prefers to wear

It's true she has dozens of outfits to wear

Piled up in cupboards, suitcases, shelves, and chairs

She has shelves in every room crammed with books

In the kitchen cookery books, but her husband's the one who cooks

Why am I procrastinating?

It's hard to edit in your head

Better to start, what's in your heart

Some things are better left unsaid

Let's edit rage, wipe off the page

Go back and find the golden thread

Joy two to one, then it is done

Let happy thoughts, not blue ones, be read

The things to do before you die

List the who, what, when, where, why

Don't be too nice, just be precise

And do not stint on your advice

Angela's an author, writer and photographer,

She is no fool, learned Latin at school

An aspiring linguist, went to Spain and Italy

Austria and Australia

Blogger

She writes three jolly blogs each day

Her diary's full of lists, things to do

Same things every day, which won't go away

Pills in the morning, evening, late afternoon

Taken early, too late, too many, too soon

Swimming, walking, or exercising

House downsizing, clothes upsizing

Everything swept, clean and tidy

All the hard work done by Friday

Free to relax at weekends

Time for close family, Zoom for far friends

She's a keen toastmaster, her public speaking never stops

She is known as the queen of props

Now this teacher's on a mission

You can write, with my permission.

List the places you have been

List the best things you have seen

Happy things you want to show

Happy times which all should know

Flowers grow from seeds you sow

Re-live all good times and glow.

I hope to live a hundred years, or more,

See the royal birthday card and TV at my door.

-ends-

What's wrong with the bed? Comical poem number 886 by Angela Lansbury.

 What's wrong with this bed?

This bed isn't made

I just had a nap

And we don't have a maid.

You'd think in a hotel

They would do things well

But the morning after after nine eleven

Everything was at sixes and sevens

At our Joburg hotel one girl took the sheets.

Promised another would bring new sheets

After half-an-hour we had yet to meet

Two beds but no sheets and I needed  my sleep!

The customer's alwsys right

But complaining about anything

Is a sin if you're British

But my patience wore thin

I phoned reception and said

First of all your hotel is neat

 A breakfast was full of good things to eat

But I'm checking out, cancel my week, my bed has no sheets!

I've been up all night And I need my slumber.

I sleep four hours on the plane but I need more

I'm not willing to sleep on the floor

Please tell my husband, I've checked us in to the hotel next door.

She promised, 'ma'am,  right away! I'll send up fresh sheets

Are you dining with us? You get the best seats

A table by the window with the best view

After all you've been through, it's the least we can do!'

I said, 'That sounds great, thanks - I have to go 

I love window seats, a view from the window

There"s a knock at the door, a lady with sheets

Thanks for the bedtime choc"late treats.’

-ends-

True story. About two different people removing ànd replacing sheets with a time gap.  Not the restaurant. The conference organization was in charge of the dinner.

Condolences comical poem number 885 by Angela Lansbury

Ghanaian fantasy coffin workshop. Photo from Wikipedia. 

We grow from seeds parked in a womb

Why has our Mummy left the room?

We wake from a long blissful night

To the sudden shock of daylight

But we're kissed by an adoring sister

Bothersome brother or muddled mother

We cry for mother, come back here

Or else for anyone who's near

We meet more same size girls and boys

To share with us all of life's joys

Small and tall trees like giant toys

But we're the ones making the noise

We settle down, snug as a hug

Sleeping on a soft sheepskin rug

Our home's small but happy and well

Roam round one room, a carousel

She may not do much with her day

She may be living far away

Yet you recall what she would say

As if today was yesterday

End silent, stress-free in a tomb

Like jewels locked in a velvet box

Protected from germs, worms and fox 

Make way for life's next rider's turn

Some lives are short-term, some long-stay

While devout friends will hope and pray

That we have simply gone away

Won free, eternal holiday

Some live too short, others too long

Life's unfair so we must stay strong

Some things go right, others go wrong

Enjoy each day, watch dance, sing song.

-ends-

Smile at a Small Sausage Dog. Comical poem 884 by Angela Lansbury.

 

Dachshund on train. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

A sausage dog was on a train

So sleepy, it did not complain

It went to work and home again

It did not bark, it did not bite

My new friend made the day feel right

A happy thought last thing at night

Well, all good things come to an end

No chance I'll meet again this friend

But I've only good thoughts to send

My photo has preserved the moment

Such happy times on trains are spend.

The dog and I were so content.

-ends-

pleas share links to your favourite posts.

Annoying People. Comical Poem 883 by Angela Lansbury.

 

My husband came to bed annoyed

Despite the day being overjoyed

Tonight he was annoyed with Anthony

Last night he was annoyed with Jimmy

The night before that it was Penny

And then he was cross with Jenny

The week before annoyed with Johnny

The week before that over money

There's one good thing which I can see

At least he's not annoyed with me.

He's really a sweetie, just a honey

You understand I'm being funny.

-ends-

Tinnitus. Comical poem 882 by Angela Lansbury.

 

How about a subtle ear-ring

To enhance your fading hearing

Every night I hear a ringing

Like the universe is singing

Every particle is zinging

With tinnitus life is rough

Like on a tightrope with a crutch

In the night I hear too much

But in the daytime not enough

In the day high pitch goes away

I can't understand what they say

I see them smile when we're meeting

And ask them to repeat their greeting

They must think that I am dense

But their English sounds like French

I don't hear my heart beat thumping

But hear kids in play grounds jumping

I can hear the trains rush by

Then when fireworks have begone

Afterwards when all is done

I can hear the fridge's hum

I hear high sounds, sound waves high

Like light bulbs before they die

Like a TV which won't work

Just a constant high pitch hum

Annoying as a toddler's drum

Like mosquitoes flying by

Like an eyelash in your eye#

Something friends don't see, can't hear

But to you is seems near

As incessant as the sea, 

Part of me, annoying me.

-ends-

The Dream Ends And Re-starts. Comical Poem 881 By Angela Lansbury

Singapore flag

When others sleep I wake alone

Half dreaming of my Singapore home

Surrounded by a happy crowd

Oriental music, car horns loud

Then Little India, breathing Indian spice

Where Chinese men eat chicken rice

Our motorbike stops, I fall on grass

A crowd of children stops aghast

Now Covid's struck, I'm stuck alone

In my Singapore high floor home

How real that cluttered dream desk seems

When I'm still trapped in past daydreams

UK Flag

Now I'm awake and England's real

Daydream I'm young, still in the past

A strange face smiles from mirror glass

Night light, decide the way I feel

Don't read the news, my old friends say

Enjoy your day, war's far away

Be happy, eat chocolate, be free

How many would swap to be me!

Now I'm awake, new roads to take

Others complain, campaign and rage

I think they make a big mistake

I'll create joy on my blank page

All dreams are free, nothing so cheap

As the cinema I watch in sleep

Words churn - paint more scenes in my head?

Enough, instead go back to bed!

-ends-

It seems a simple poem, dream, wake, daydream, go back to sleep. But it is multi layered. Observation. Philosophy. Psychology. Life coaching. 

Beating depression. Short of sleep makes you depressed. 

It starts as a reflection of how real dreams seem, observation about dreaming alone, dreams of being in crowds. 

Waking alone, although you are not alone. How news can be depressing, but it is far away, live in the moment.

Choosing to be happy, sleeping for health.

Written between 7 am and 7.30 am.

Once the poem is read and written, the writer can leave the imaginary world of the poems, and daydreams, and go back to the imaginary world of dreams.

The reader, too, can return to the real world - or take the advice and go back to sleep.

Please share links to your favourite poems, and favourite comments on poems and poetry and life.

I also have blogs on travel, and dress for home and travel, which I write every day.  Other blogs are intermittent, on speech writing, and being a landlord and/or tenant.

You can also read bits of my books, on Amazon. More books by Angela Lansbury on Lulu. My previous posts show my books. See Poem Storage comical poem 878.