If only my teeth could speak. Comical poem 779 by Angela Lansbury

 If only my dear teeth could speak

And tell me what they'd like to eat

And warn me when my broken tooth

In truth will send me through the roof

If only teeth would tell the truth

If only molars were willing

To say if ice cream's good for them

Or leads to needing a filling

In fact my teeth do talk to me

Then tell me if food's hot or cold

If something is stuck between

And if I'm starting to look old

My gums don't complain, they're friendly

Although I often neglect them

I take no notice til they bleed

And the dire dentist inspects them

I wish my teeth were pearly white

And they made me look fantastic

Though one girl who had super teeth

Admitted that hers were plastic.

-ends-

Who Needs A Nearby Place To Grieve? Comical poem 778 by Angela Lansbury.

 Who do we need a place to grieve

A tombstone, monument with names?

Or tee-shirts, tattoos, names on sleeves

Old pictures in new picture frames

Some like to move old dead away

Cemeteries, later move old bones

Cemeteries car parks, parks for play

Hidden, stored on walls, old tombstones

While some move on, gran's gone away

Graves once a year seclude your tears

Whilst others want the dead to stay

Say angels on shoulders calm fears

Some think souls live and will return

Fly past as short-lived butterflies

(Yet not as bugs in rugs nor worms)

Sweet memories when someone dies

We give them little when they live

Spend our money on us instead

Then spend huge sums on wakes and graves

When it's too late and they are dead

A quick death brings one day of pain

The birth and death dates make a frame

New birthdays, weddings aren't the same

But old pix show joys lived again.

-ends-

I changed the last line 

from

But photos show joys lived again

to

But old pix show joys lived again.

Photos is a much better word than the horrid neologism (recently new word) pix. But I wanted to clarify that it is photos of old weddings, not photos of new weddings, which revive happy memories.

That Hat. Comical poem 777 by Angela Lansbury.

See this summer sun hat's wide floppy brim.

I sewed on pink ribbon under my chin. 

I don't want my new hat flying away

On a bike or boat to ruin my day

It could be lifted by a sneaky breeze

If I read, take photos, or a strong sneeze

Where I am going five minutes sewing

Secures my hat for smart outfit showing.

-ends-

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We Do Not Ask! Comical poem 776 by Angela Lansbury

We have never asked to be born

Nor to start young, nor end up old

Yet we can choose to stay timid

Or brave the cold and to be bold.

-ends-

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Words & Signs Warn On The Bus And Train. Comical poem 775 by Angela Lansbury.

One of the joys of modern life

Alert robots nag like a wife

Phone's to do list says: Mow the grass

In five minutes your bus will pass.

ZOOM

Up pops a message about Zoom

Requesting, 'Ma'am, please join the room,'

The word Ma'am tells me caller's Delhi,

Like Bollywood on the telly

BUS

I won't say, 'No. I'm on a bus.'

I never like to make a fuss

I quickly mute, I have no choice

If not, all hear a robot voice

TRAIN

Then next I'm sitting on a train

With groups I'll never see again

Their clothes boast about where they've been

Who they are, and what sights they're seen.

When not on trains some like to run

On sunny days jogging is fun

I saw roller shoes on that train

Which took me out then home again.

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How Are You? Comical poem 774 by Angela Lansbury

 When the British ask, 'How are you?'

They don't really want to know

Everything that's wrong with you 

From left to right, and head to toe

The Brits don't want to know

About  short sight and wonky teeth

Miscarriages, car accidents

Skin problems and what's underneath

Nor morning sickness, a blocked nose

Nor vomiting and diarrhea

Dandruff. Sore throat and hammer toes

Lost weight, lost socks, and broken nose

How are you's just a greeting

So answer, very well, great, or all right

Then add, how are you. But neither of you

Should  list  aches and pains all though day and night

I've heard that Russia's different

They tell the truth and want to know

So if you want to tell your troubles, that's where you should go

Once I went to Russia

And I hope I've got this right

Because when my date asked, How are you

I talked throughout the night

I told him all the troubles that the Brits don't want to know

Aches and pains, again and again

From left to right, all through the night

From left to right and head to toe

The British are so polite

They'll listen if you talk all night

And wont say how to put things right

When in distress they call the NHS.

-ends-

NHS stands for National Health Service.

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With all your friends and colleagues, both oh them. I mean both friends and family, or friends and colleagues, hundreds of them, or the two of them, if you have only two.

Is This Poetry Or Prose? Comical poem 773 by Angela Lansbury

 Who knows, and do you really know

If you wrote poetry or prose?

If you've read lots of poetry

When you write prose, strong feeling shows

But is it really poetry

With rhythm and with proper rhyme?

Did you count feet or syllables

Make sure each line took the same time?

A poem can be short, sharp, swift 

Be a piece of propaganda

Unlike a smart, reasoned essay

Which should be an even-hander

I often see so-called poetry

Religious rant, or political

It doesn't sound quite right to me

Cut lines are verse, not poems at all.

Some people write a quick, loud rant

Whilst others moan and groan all day

if you've got no rhyme nor rhythm

Maybe you should write sn essay

If you are so fraught with strong thought

But lack time for punctuation

Don't foist muddled struggle on us

Send words to another station.

-ends-