Summer Sun Delights comical poem 548 by Angela Lansbury

 

In summer sun time, each British girl knows

In this brief time, pale people take off clothes

Build sand castles, like kids, slide down sand dunes

Sink into soft sand, play happy, loud tunes

If blue sea, white waves, wide sky, catch your eye

Buy tickets, then bouncing boats collect you

Ride with picnics, sunscreen, brimmed hats by you

Ouch - sunburn! Let brollies' shade protect you

In Singapore we could swim in the pool

In humid weather, it's good to feel cool

In tropical sun, ten minutes is enough

Clinic photos warned cancer, looked rough

Yet, we're all hoping for much warmer days

We envy friends who are going away

Until we hear tales of sickness, loss, cross

Glad to get home at the end of their stay

I won't sleep on sand, nor live in a cave

I'm neither so desperate, nor brave

Rescue me from remote beaches alone

I'm happy to sit at my desk here at home.

Palm trees looks romantic, and starry nightscave, sand, mosquito

Seafront promenades, coloured twinkling lights

Until you wake up with mosquito bites!

On balance, I prefer here, I'll all right.

-end-

Life, Death, Reincarnation and Dinner comical poem 547 by Angela Lansbury

What's life and death to you and me 

For me it's all a mystery

I don't feel reincarnation's

Like changing trains in life's stations

I stare at plates during dinner

Thinking the eater's the winner

Letters to lions from the deer

I'm sure would say, 'Wish you weren't here!'

I'm amazed silent strawberry

Reincarnates into laughing me

How milk turns into yellow teeth

Thin chicken to wide feet beneath 

A teeny weeny bit of me

Only the bit that others see

Stays in paintings and in photos

 All busy posterity knows

My childhood's already long past

Although my hair still grows like grass

I hope this poem stays all day

I'm preserved in a noval or play

Before it's tipped from life's wheelbarrow

When I'm gone like a shadow

And you'll have something left to see

But I won't see, no, no, not me

I shall leave money in banks and wills

To pay for a funeral, lawyers and bills

After death I shan't return

But distribute to hungry worms

Although in life I've a loud voice

After my death I've little choice

The wind will blow and life go on

Your voices sing my silly song.

-end-

Strawberries. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 

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I originally ended with

Other voices will sing my song.

I thought that was too sad.

It's supposed to be a comical poem. You should end with a smile.

So I ended Your foices sing my silly song.

April 1st Jokes - False Flowers? comical poem 546 by Angela Lansbury

 On April 1st some people like

To paint a car just like a bike

I do not mind if what I've heard

Is clearly from first sight absurd

So long as it does not cause pain

But's merely meant to entertain

Looks at life in another way

Some write good night when it is day

All of us spend several hours

Walking past dresses showing flowers

And fake eyelashes helping looks

Bookends and coasters carved like books

Did you stop, stare and wonder why

Old church ceilings look like the sky

Statues show babies, holy heads

And sculptures which mimic the dead?

Pictures and texts long past we feel

Were thought by many to be real

But now you can't say girl or boy

People, like things, are all trompe l'oeuil

'though I don't like to waste my time

I'm happy some try breaking rules

If people make themselves look fools

If it will raise a laugh - that's fine

But turn back to reality

Reassuring normality

Admit you wandered off the path

Just briefly to ensure a laugh

So plant fake seeds, write praise of  weeds

Present gardens of mad misdeeds

I like surpises, but I'm kind,

Hide morals in bouquet punchlines.

Trompe loeuil painting. Wikimedia. Mario-dorf.

-ends-

Censored Poems comical poem 545 by Angela Lansbury

I don't wish to hear a bad word

Which might invade my immune brain

'though I recognize all the bad words -

I do not want you to explain!

The problem is, I copy words

If I hear it once, I say it

I know you might find this absurd

When paid per word, yucks won't pay it. 

I do not wish to write a word

Which is vulgar, or slang or rude

'though nowadays it's often heard

One's status could be misconstrued

I've other ways to show my mood

Dictionaries give us lots of choice

Vinegar shouldn't drown brain food

Nor shouting show an icy voice

I admit words I deem taboo

Are scattered by the hoi polloi

A word acceptable to you

When used by me won't bring us joy

And so I censor all I write

'though passionate, no need to swear

I'd rather spread good news and light

Visions of angels with gold hair.

-ends-

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Illustration from wikimedia. Three wise monkeys.

Things I'd Rather Not Remember comical poem number 544 by Angela Lansbury

 I tried to help a lady

Why had Alzheimer's, to remember

I asked, 'Do you know if it is March or November?'

She laughed and shrugged

'There's lots of things I'd rather not remember'

I could not understand why 

She wanted to resist

The help which I was offering

So I worked through my list

'Do you remember, dear

The first time you were kissed?'

She said, 'There are a lot of things I'd rather not remember!'

I had no choice, it was my job, I had to persist

I asked, "Do you remember your first love?'

She sighed, 'I'd rather not remember

Frankly, there were lots of boys, whose memory's not missed.'

'But what about the sex? And your marriage in September?'

She shook her head, 'There's lots of things, I'd rather forget

You think I tell tall stories - you ain't heard nothing yet!'

She said, 'I wish I hadn't kept a diary

Bills, and lawyers' letters

My sister - and our court case

I'd rather forget her!

'I told you there are lots of things I'd rather not remember!'

I changed the subject. I said, 'You know we're heading for a snowy December?'

She said, 'I've already told you, I'd rather not remember.'

-ends-

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Picture of Three Wide Monkeys from Auckland Museum, New Zealand, in Wikipedia, under Three wise monkeys.

What Other People Write About comical poem 543 by Angela Lansbury

What other people write about

On days when they cannot go out

Most children write of simple things

Bikes, scooters, not safe swimming rings

Of playing games and silly names

Of buses, cars and trains and planes

About goldfish, big cats, small dogs

Not giggly things like jumping frogs

Teenagers write about first love

A kiss and the blind moon above

Later they write about love lost

Of drugs and fast cars, not the cost

Whilst lying in their single bed

They dream of one they wish they'd wed.

Parents write of their baby's smiles

Not dripping taps nor laying tiles.

Old people, some like to complain

Although there's lots they should explain

Their youth which won't come back again

Claim their life's full of sun - or rain

Now, poets, what do poets write?

Of how they sat up half the night

And tried to put the world to right

Telling what other people write.

-ends-

Photo of Angela Lansbury with large pencil.

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The Perfect Body comical poem number 542 by Angela Lansbury

 The human body's wonderful

Until something goes badly wrong

All bits of of me work perfectly

Until I try to sing a song

Angela Lasnbury with smiley face balloon. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

When others sing happy birthday

You wonder why I shut my mouth

And why I have bought thirty bras

Because some parts start going south

The heart is an amazing thing

Goes tick-tock like a wound-up clock

Runs the whole body happily

Till it decides enough, I'll stop

I'll sleep in - I don't need an alarm

At six a.m. I wake, sadder

I haven't yet had eight hours sleep

I'm woken by my busy bladder

Somewhere between distand childhood

And the fast race towards old age

My whole body goes out of tune

It's lost and sings from the wrong page

A baby learns to walk and run

 It learns to crawn, ignores a fall

Maybe Alzheimer's a blessing

So the old don't worry at all

No, when your step is unsteady

Just shrug it off and then maybe 

The world will stay a happy place

Meet challenges like a baby.

-ends-

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