I sewed on pink ribbon under my chin.
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
ZOOM
I see a message on my Zoom
Which asks me, 'Ma'am, please join the room,'
The word Ma'am tells me caller's Delhi,
Or Bollywood on the telly
BUS
I never like to make a fuss
I won't say, 'No. I'm on a bus.'
I need to mute, I have no choice
If not, they'll hear a robot voice
One of the joys of modern life
Robots remind like alert wife
Of every street a bus will pass
Back home, the phone says mow the grass.
TRAIN
Then when you're sitting on a train
With groups you'll never see again
Their clothes will tell you where they've been
And all the world's great sights they're seen.
When not on trains some like to run
On sunny days we all have fun
One man has street wheels on the train
Which takes us out then home again
-ends-
Please share links to your favourite poems.
When the British ask, 'How are you?'
Tjey 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
Miscaiiages, car accidents
Skin problems and what?'s underneath
Nor morning dickness, a blocked nose
Nor vomiting and diarrhea
Dandruff. Sore thrist and hammer toes
Lost weigjt, lost socks, and broken nose
How are you's just a greeting
So answer, very well, great.or all rùght
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 ig you want to tell your troubles, that's where you should go
Once I went to zzzRusdia
And I hope Ive got this rigjt
Because when my date askef, How sre you
I taldef thoughout the nigjt
I told him all the troubles that the Brits don't want to know
Aches snd pains, agsin and again
From left to right, all through the nigjt
From left to right and head to toe
The British are so polite
TheyLl listen if you talk all night
And wont say how to put things rigjht
When in distress they call the NHS
-ends-
NHS stands for National Health Service.
Please follow my blos share links to this post
With all your driends and colleaged, both oh them. I mean both friends and family, or frinds and colleages, hundrefs of them, or the two of them, if you have only two.
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-
Do you sincerely look your age
When you're out having too much fun?
When you're so drunk you tell your age
Kind strangers lie - 'You look so young!
'Your birth certificate told lies!'
You know you're old when your dog dies
When grandpa dies and no-one cries
Great grandchild shrugs, the widow sighs
Babies are born wrong years and days
Babes should smile, sleep all the time
They don't behave in baby ways
Ungrateful, cry all night, wake, whine
Some of them look like old bald men
When you undress them, fountains go
Some babies small like opium dens
How would I know.! Just guessed - don't know
Then when teens grow and want a drink
They lie about their real birth age
They do not look the age you think
Drive, accidents, get in road rage
Then when they reach the age of thirty
People say they still look twenty
When they reach the age of forty
People say they look like thirty
When they reach the age of fifty
Nifty people say, you look forty
When they reach the age of sixty
People say you look like fifty
When you reach your seventies
People say you look like sixty
If a few do not believe it
They never say it's like it is
Then when you reach seventy nine
You're still having a great time
But when you reach the age of eighty
Your new stage is 'past my bed time'
Sadly the mirrors do not lie
And you do not fit in your clothes
Too fat to walk, belly balloon
Or skeleton thin, gone 'too soon' friends die
Your hair falls out, your legs give out
You need to wear reading glasses
You grow deaf, people say, 'Don't shout'
Younger folk stop making passes
And ageless singers who took drugs
Have faces like maps, full of wrinkles
Now look like bugs living in fugs
Can't keep it up, keep needing tinkles
Fond grandchildren will run away
When they need you on reaching teens
It's time they heard what you should say
But you daren't tell them what you mean.
-ends-
I was inspired to write a parody of The wheels on the bus. But instead of simple repetition, for pre-schoolers, the poem took another direction.
It became more like an ironic ballad. Such as, A hole in my bucket, Dear Liza.
Another influence, is the exaggerated cautionary tale. For want of a nail the battle was lost. Humorous examples are The Lion And Albert, and Matilda told such dreadful lies.
My poem tells a tale of endless dining disasters, and constant disagreements. And how we tried to cope and cover up.
I started with the title The Cup On the Saucer Went Around and \around, but changed the words
THE FISH ON THE DISH
On the day we dined up in town
We arrived soon, late afternoon,
First had water, black or green tea
Hubby, rich son, wife, Teeny-tot, poor me
The balcony table was round
It was the largest one we found
But cutlery fell on the ground
With a dreadful, clattering sound
The cup's saucer was square on round
The cup on the saucer went up and down
Up to my mouth, I made slurping sound
My husband's hand waved, 'Tone it down!'
's
My coffee was strong, it sat too long
My cream was white the sugar brown
I twirled the spoon in my cup round
It made a dreadful squeaky sound
The water jug was passed around
It got lost and was never found
Somebody must have put it down
On another table or on the ground.
The sugar lump bowl sent around
I sighed, 'I've put on half a pound!'
I took two lumps, put a third down
Dad shook his head, tutted and frowned.
The mixed fish cake dish went around
'Is this cod?' 'Salmon.' 'Tuna.' 'Trout?
'It's monster fish - it's been renamed
All doled from the same tin no doubt!'
To go with fish, the chips went round
The tomato ketchup bottle went round
Dad shook it up, and down his shirt
He said short words, 'Fish!' I looked hurt
The plate of pizza passed around
So everybody took one slice
The pineapple pizza looked so nice
That I took two, nobody knew
The birthday cake had candle flames
The chef had mis-spelled both our names
I said, 'Never mind, Grandpa's blind, pass the cake around!'
The sponge, jam, cream all soon went down
(
The waiter said, 'Happy Birthday' to me
I said, 'It's our anniversary
For last week's birthday, an anniversary cake
'Sorry, Ma-am. A mistake.' 'Three mistakes!'
The box of chocolates passed around
But 'baby' knocked them on the ground
You can't eat chocolates when they fall.
(At home I washed and ate them all!)
I ordered coffee but got tea
I complained, 'both taste the same to me
Both taste like coffee-tea, the same
Where's the manager?' 'Gone home. Not to blame'
I asked, 'Why is this bill so large?'
They said, 'It's our high service charge,'
Son smiled, 'That's fine, I understand -
There's always something underhand.'
-ends-
True story: Our Happy Birthday cake was given to a couple celebrating their wedding anniversary at the Alpine Restaurant, (in Bushey, London) - which later closed down.
Coffee-tea was a story told about some airlines. I thought it was a joke. But somebody who worked in the industry said it was true, to save time.
(More verses later on salt, pepper, bread, olives, ice cream, coffee, juice, milk, sweets)
Make up tea or dinner related words.
Please share links to your favourite posts.
Much too long was a parody of all day long.
