How to write A Sonnet. Comical poem 822 by Angela Lansbury.

 A sonnet's an old basic rhyme

A,b,a,b is how you do it

Liked 'cos it doesn't take much time

Three four-line verses  - one couplet

The word sonnet sounds so grand

I taught English so understand

Son means sound or song, that’s all

And et, that simply means small

It's just three verses, very short

And can easily be taught

You can write it in just one hour

A simple message, just one thought

You sum up in the last short couplet

My message, we all can do it!

-ends-

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A Poet's Rapturous rap. Comical poem 821 by Angela Lansbury

 I heard a singer improvise rap

And thought, we poets could do that

Fine minds did that in ancient times

Shout for the deaf, paint for the blind

A paid scribe wrote lovers' letters

Wrote praise of the loved, and sender

Instantly made each thought bettet

Helped urgent borrower, or lender

Even the stupid improvise

When caught out, quickly make up lies

In places where the old folk meet

Alzheimer's use rhymes, and repeat

I do not  need to sing in tune

 I'll get away with moon and June

I do not need to make a band

All that I ask is clap your hands.

-ends-

Writers' Holiday. Comical Poem 820 by Angela Lansbury.

I drive up to the old house

Who is watching as I pass?

The old cows pause to glance at me

Still chewing on the tasty grass 

I stop to take a photo

Don't miss an opportunity

Though no poem nor prose yet planned

One day that could inspire me

In my mind many scenes are played

I'll write a feature, or a book

A best-seller, made into films

Magazine letter, modestly paid

I find a handy parking place

It's early, so I grab the space

I run inside the open door

And search for a familiar face

It's so good to be me

When you say you're glad to see me

I'm sure it's good to be you

When I say, 'I'm glad to see you, too!'

In the bedroom I unpack

My brand new dress bought to impress

Discover vital things I lack

I must make do 'til I go back

I must admit a year has passed

An older face looks from the glass

We've had days and friends, good and bad

Erase the mad, embrace the glad 

Circle the lounges in the break

And then sit down with chocolate cake

Delighted with new friends I'll make

Whilst handy tips I give and take

There's one gone I used to know

Gone to the place where old friends go

Ask mutual friends, 'D'you remember ...,' while

I see the ghost of her great smile

While strangers chat, some of them frown

Another calls, 'Come here, sit down!'

So this happy day is giving

New memories of those still living

I had to sit by a silent nerd

But he explained, glad to be heard

I exclaimed, 'Your head's full of value!'

And he was complimentary, too

In the hall I find an empty chair

The old piano stool is empty 

But somebody new sits down

Their pounding music fills the air

Sometimes I read, sometimes I write

The happy days turn into nights

I listen, late night scribble notes

I don't want to turn off the light

Until the day we pack to go

Say goodbye, wave, to those we know

To new friends, now firm friends, so dear

I promise, 'I'll be here next year!'

-ends-

Writers' Summer School at the Hayes, Swanwick, Derbyshire, England. 

People, now gone, who I remember: 

1The piano player; I bought his signed book. 

2 I miss Kim, who made a space for me on the sofa by moving up when others said no room. She looked me in the eye, and whispered conspiratorially, 'Some people are givers, some people are takers'. 

3 Tony Greenfield, the luminary statistician. His son is still active. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tony_Greenfield

4 The helpful, knowledgeable, newbie nerd later became a valued committee member and is still always active. 

I changed some folks made you mad. Now others make you glad, too many syllables

Why Doesn't Somebody? Comical poem number 819 by Angela Lansbury

Why don't my dear old and new friends phone me?

Why don't friends hold a New Year's party?

Why doesn't someone ask me for coffee?

Why doesn't anybody think of me?

Who doesn't somebody empty waste bins?

Why doesn't someone clean the dirty floors?

Why doesn't somebody open windows?

Why doesn't someone lock front and back doors?

Why doesn't somebody start a business

One to give me useful. paid employment?

Why doesn't someone start a festival

Which would give everybody enjoyment?

Why doesn't somebody build a city?

Give the old and kids safe flats, downstairs rooms?

Why not balance the tides, rivers and rain?

Fill gardens with fruit, make the desert bloom?

What on earth was I put on this earth for?

Why don't I have more time, wealth and health?

Why wait? Why not start on my projects now?

The answer to all is inside myself.

Today I've just one thing to do

It's pass this message on to you.

-ends-

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Plenty More Fish In the Sea. Comical poem 818 by Angela Lansbury.

We got married so long ago

We've heard most of the jokes before

I've too many small size clothes to wear

He has lost most of his hair

 

There's plenty more fish in the sea

There must be one who would like me

Fraudsters and murderers can find

Somebody of the same mad mind

There must be somebody out there

With money, or debts, who'd like to share

I boasted, 'This year I wrote a book.'

My date sighed, 'I've not even read a book.'

I've had a lot of broken hearts

Lots of stalls, as well as false starts

Some I would rather not recall

Alas I can recall them all

Choose a romantic restaurant

Ask them for a romantic song

Dress to impress. Look your best

What could go wrong? All could go wrong

I had a date with a man from Reading

Although he'd come, he looked quite glum

I wondered where we were heading

He sniffed, 'My bride-to-be cancelled our wedding'

Another's depression was hard to hide

I wondered if I'd be his next bride

I asked, 'What happened to your last mate?'

He cried. 'She committed suicide!'

People look my marriage and say

'We can't understand why you stay?'

I laugh, 'Plenty more fish, I've tried the lot

But decided to stay with what I've got!'

-ends-

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January 1st 2026 I wrote poem 712. July 24th 2026 poem 818

So that is

An Imaginary Angel Helped Tidy My House. Comical Poem 817 by Angela Lansbury.

 Mess! I day-dreamed I had an angel

To tidy up my hopeless house

It worked whilst I dreamed at night

Like Beatrix Potter's helpful mouse

I woke and went around my house

Did a fearful quick inspection

I kicked things on the floor aside

Under their, start here, direction

After one minute, I did two

I saw there was so much to do

Told angel cleaner, 'I'll help you -

I'll just do this one small section

'While I'm at it, I'll clean the floor

And later I'll hoover some more.'

I'm impressed what lost things I find

Books sorted, could be found when blind

I'm sure you'd like to ask me

How to contact my angel friend?

And if they're free, you'll borrow one

Just read this note I'll gladly send

I did not need much reflection

On my room and task selection

But if you're tired and faint-hearted

The secret's simple. Get started

Imagine a helpful angel

Stands near, pointing the direction

Planning to return for photos,

Before and after inspection

What's heart-warming and impressive

Is how much, solo, I have done

Simply imagining we're two

'though all this work was done by one.

-ends-

Mother's Smiling Face. Comical poem 816 by Angela Lansbury.

 Everywhere I go, mother follows me

She smiles perpetually, encouraging me

Her face in photos on the wall

I won't forget that smile at all

I know I'm just daydreaming

I understand how to others it seems

The dead are still alive

And speak to you in dreams

I don't mope, nor cling to vain hope

But choose only happy memory

We lived a long life of laughter

Together, that's how we wanted it to be

So everywhere I see her face

Although she's in some other place

Her smile and laughter's still with me

As I preserve her memory.

-ends-