Events And Password Barriers comic poem number 417 by Angela Lansbury

 I'm hunting for my event

I wonder where the people went

I wonder where the login went

A brand new code has been sent

Am I needed half past ten

Opens at nine, leave coat and then

A breakfast for the lucky few

Who know what websites want you to do

The PR girl is looking fraught

With unclaimed freebies she has bought

She wonders where all the press went

They'vre hunting for her event.

A website is your buiness page

A website is your business stage

I wish I didn't have to say

Three passwords, then I've gone away

I might come back another day

When my frustration's gone away

You ask me, dear, where we all went

To some friendly login event.

-ends-.\

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Mosquitos, what everybody knows, comic poem 416 by Angela Lansbury

 As everybody educated knows

I don't like fleas, big bees, wasps nor mosquitos

I don't like to see bites on my fingers

Nor my face, legs, body, back or toes

I do not like to hear them flying past

A sudden silence fills my mind with dread

I don't like them flying, living, dying

I'm not even keen on them drop dead

I don't like them flying around my house

In the kitchen, shower, bath, near the bed 

I don't like one anywhere near me here

I fondly wish them somewhere else instead

If they are gone tomorrow we'll forget

On bad days, things could be worse, they're a curse

Each job, ask or task could be much worse yet

By adding in bites from a mosquito.

Now I've sprayed away, is there any good

When you hear that whine, droning mosquito? 

I've no measles chicken pox, polio

Shingles, meningitis, no tests - I know

No harm from friendly spiders, helpful bees

Good! Not meningitis nor impetigo

No rashes, scorpions nor a hornet

It's just the buzz - of losing a mosquito.

Windows are open, hope it won't take long

Before enemy number one has gone

Then I can sing a happy, cheerful song

About the right to right a dreadful wrong.

-ends-

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Anti-fly comic poem 415 by Angela Lansbury

 What am I angrily against?

I am anti all biting flies

I sat saerching the 'net for help

Wearing double heavy disguise

I didn't find any answers

But left with bites on my hands 

And more on both sides of my legs 

The one thing left, my useless eyes.

Whilst I'm a peace-livng person

Who wild-life lovers rely on

I'm still not terribly keen on

A flea, crocodile or lion

You may still be wondering why

I wnn't say I won't hurt a fly

If useful fly spray came my way

I'd certainly like to try one

Flay and Wasp Killer spray. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

I'm not into eating insects

Wish they felt the same about me

I don't want a fly in my soup

And I don't want to be its tea

Whatever bit me in the night

You must admit, with sympathy

In this war I am in the right

The fly, or flea, started this fight

So far this game's one up to them

I beg them, don't do it again

I've zinc ointment, but start to scratch

I must admit I've met my match

I itch. I'm cross.  if I catch one

I swear it's biting days are done

With a spray, or iron, be gone

There's no more fun until - I've won.

-ends

Every Flower Has A Happy Hour comic,happy poem 414 by Anggela Lansbury

 

Y

Here's something new you need to know

In gardens funny flowers grow

Buttercups, dots, shiny yellow

Won't spoil green lawn, make a meadow

Dandlions are soup, not weeds

Every plant can fulfil needs

Giant sunflowers, from small seeds

Shoots grow fruit, apples will feed

Fruits art from Home Food on Facebook.

Tiny daises, giant roses

Pick the flowers, present posies

You can pick them, have no fear

Cut them down, then more appear

\

In winter time they disappear

But they come back again next year.

Cheer the elderly or ill

Tall orchids on the windowsill

Some flowers exude sweet perfume

\Which wafts across to fill the room

Helps you relax and breathe in deep

Flowers grow while you're asleep

They seek the sunlight, lean drunk in rain

A second season, can't complain

Dead head those you think are dead

The bulbs next season flower again

Where do autumn flowers go?

In winter time they hide from snow

All wise five-year-olds soon know

Next spring more bright blooms will grow

Garden flowers, red and yellow tulips, on my windowsill. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

Some are red and some are white

Some fold up to sleep at night

Ltft up joyfully in daylight

Promise all will be all right.

Flowers last a week or two

But when they fade, don't feel blue

It's not the fault of me and you

That is just what flowers do

Yellow tulips in the garden in London spring 2024. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

Flowers rise and flowers fall

Climb keen to cover broken walls

Every colour gives a silent call

I love each one, I love them all.

-ends-

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Flowers, purples, red and yellow, in a windowbox, The Broadway, Hatch End. London. England. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

The Cost of Lost - and Found comic poem 413 by Angela Lansbury

Magnifying glass. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

Why does a worker turn up late

Assisted by a toothless mate

The one with a hole in his sock

Yet solves the problems of the block?

The window's stuck, you see this catch

Oh, no - I left it on the latch

Now he and I can both explain

We do not need his help again

Just when you reach the doctor's door

Your pain is troubling you no more

How often troubles go away

No matter what the helpers say

Kind amaterurs are everywhere

But even when they simply stare

The help is floating in the air

It lands on you when help is there

'This is the port I thought I bought

From the estate of the late Mr Bates'

''Can you help me look for my book?

You must have moved it!' It's lost. He's cross.

'This cork is tough,' and I'm feeling rough

I'm running for the train but I'm late again

We've lost the keys and can't be pleased

I've lost the slide, looked far and wide

My mind is turning round and round

I sing it and search in Sound Hound

She's not on the list, how can she be missed?

This is the game, mis-spelled the name

Copied from an email, where it is short

Felt fraught, so glad that error's caught

The email's gone, what could go wrong?

I can't remember the name of the song

It's going to be one of those days

I sent Chinese condolences - for a birthday

The thing he'd lost was black, not white

We found it hiding in plain sight

I respond at once when he gives a shout

We were perplexed by the bottle topper

Try heat, or seal, to release the stopper

Now can you help me get the stuck cork out?

***

After former friend had too much to drink

I heard and  I saw the way she swore

I think I heard  this had happend before

Instead say 'sugar', or 'funny', make more

I need to keep mind in good health

You can often solve a problem yourself

This is the problem, we explain, again

The answers appear like sun after rain.

All day we're feeling sad and perplexed

We've solveed one problem - then up pops the next.

A verse's extra syllable - again

Simple, lengthen all lines from eight to ten.

-ends-

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Hidden Words Revealed comic poem 412 by Angela Lansbury

Magniying glass on dictionary of new words. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

 Words should always reveal

But they sometimes conceal

Now I have forgootten

The meanig I'd hidden

Now I must convess that

I'm in such distress that

If you have clearly seen

what you think that I mean

There are messages you must not send

And loan words which you must not lend

Like in French saying Le Weekend

In case you offend all your friends

You know more than the poet

If that's so you should show it

By writing down new words

To show what you just heard

With some innuendo

To rise to crescendo

There are some things you should

Other which I don't want to know

Your problems with your mental health

I wish you'd keep them to yourself

And if you want to change your sex

And leave your poor parents perplexed

Or change your country or your faith

I'm glad that' I'm not in your place

Words keep changing and so we try

To make our elders wonderi why

The British gay, American guy

And God be with you's now goodbye

I used to worry about Bombay

It's now Mumbia, Beijing, Peking

Constaniple, Instnbul, I don't want to look a feel

Is using AI really cheating?

I still get cross about fewer and less

When foreign students make a mess

Don't call them foreign, or he or she

I wonder what the've calling me?

What can I send the birthday boy

To not give anger, only joy

Once pink for boys, but now it's blue

Not flip flops, thongs, nor brand name shoes

I won't send poems, only floers

But they bothered me for hours

Eigh's lucky, you must avoid four

Wait, even numbers, there's lots more

Some like even, others odd numbers

Like four letter words, make grammar blunders

Red means we're lovers, lllies for the dead

Was it something that I said?

Mustn't say you're thinner or fatter

Shrug it off, spelling doesn't matter

Take out commas, they confuse

Plurals have a lot to lose

There's Thai silk, and faux leather

Sometimes I wonder whether

My pre-loved, worn once clothes were ever loved

By triplets below or someone above

Don't leave yourself or your  reader disayed

By word games which we all have played

Frankly, I've had enough trouble today

Reading the label on my marmalade.

-ends-

Someone above I originally meant one God, but the meaning could be you have inherited never worn clothes fro the clearance f the house of someone who died.

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One Word - love comic poem 411 by Angela Lansbury

Happy Birthday plate at restaurant. Photo by Trevor Sharot. Copyright.

I've just one word

Which I'll repeat

At home, in bed

And in the street

When I'm moody

Look black as coal

You make me whole

You lift my soul

Sometimes you ask

What's here for me?

If you feel sad

I'll set you free

But I am sure

That's you'll soon see

That I love you

And you love me

When I'm moody

And black as coal

You make me whole

You lift my soul

That's why you are

My better half

When I am cross

You make me laugh

You've just one word

Which you repeat

At home, in bed

And in the street.

What is that word

Like sun above

A simple word

That word is love.

-ends-

I watched the Eurovision contest. They brought back three members of once winners ABBA. THye have a one word name.  Easy to type and say. Their hits were easy to sing along to and remember. One or two word ditles. Waterloo. Dancing Queen. Positive, triumphant messages.

How Many Readers have I got? comic poem 410 by Angela Lansbury

Angela, Project evaluator at a meeting of a Toastmasssters International Club. Photograph by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

 

How many readers have I got?

Less than fifty, that's not a lot 

Oops, oh no, less should be fewer

I'm a re-reader, re-doer

Charlotte Bronte wrote just four books

She wan't known for her good looks

I've written more, how well I've done!

Though my best book counts buyers - none

Was it the book price or the size?

Was I too shy to publicize?

But I won't worry, nor be perplexed

When one book's done - on to the next!

Anne Frank's hidden diary, later unfurled

Now one of the best-sellers in the world

If you read this, what must I do?

Be proud of one reader, thank you.

-end-

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What I have I done today comic poem 409 by Angela Lansbury

 

Angela Lansbury, timer at a meeting of a Toastmasters International speakers' club. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

What have I done today?

I got up and washed - and dressed!

I have not done a lot

But I have done my best

What have I done today

I had a good night's rest

I got up in dalight

I took my pill, passed today's first test

-ends-

Inspired by Welsh-born poet Davis, who wrote 

What is life if full of care

One has no time to stand and stare.

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Revenge Against Lost Socks comic poem 408 by Angela Lansbury

Matching socks. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

 Each day the mystery unlocks

The secret revenge of the socks

Like truants playing hide and seek

I search and gloat, Found! made my week!

I once had an unmatched socks box

Hidden from husband, under locks

One found when I at last washed sheets

Perhaps kicked off from hot night feet

Folded up pairs made my shelves neat

A dating sock, would like to meet\\

One with a hole was used to dust

I'll darn that hole, looks new  - I trust

Where were they lost? Where are they found?

I checked the floor, proudly lsoked round

Behind the basin, bedhead, floor

Behind the door,, the radiator!

Some fell behind a washing machine

Are socks victims, or are they mean?

Last night I found a pair - put back!

Daylight showed  navy with black!

One discarded - it had a hole

Now I darn holes, to save their soul

Yes soles, some are designed with pads

Pretending they are shoes, quite mad

To balance out my lost sock counts

Which hop and leap in large amounts

Today I have some feel good news

I found a lost sock in my shoes

I celebrate this single match

Which helps clear up the lost sock patch

And I've made order in my mess

Whe one small joyful sock success

The question is, that pefect pair,

Is it something I dare to wear?

Should I save it for tomrrow

Warding off a Thursday sorrow?

Let tomorrow pay its own way

I'll say it once and have my say

I celebrate joyful today

I wear a matching pair, hurray!

By catching a pair in that box

A treasure hunt of lost-found socks.

To help you, too, face today's knocks

Good news, I've paired my pair of socks.

-ends-

How do you edit a poem? I go back and count syllables. Classic ballads alternate laaaaaaangths, such as eight and seven or seven then six syllables, or six and five or five and four and so on. 

 It's often easier to add, making all up to eight syllables if you have just one odd line

But somtimes cutting is easy.

. For example, I changed I used to have wich is four syllables to I once had and it is back to three.

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Sleep, sleep, comic poem number 407 by Angela Lansbury

 

Red duvet cover. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

Sleep, sleep, sleep, yes, I need deep sleep

I won't waste time on counting sheep

I wake up when the birds go tweet

I haven't slept a wink all week\

Imagine birds sleep in their next

no, hey will not let me rest

On greeting cards birds look so sweet

In real life small beaks

Until at last I drop in slumber

Would not wake to the loudest thunder

Daylight shoves my lids asunnder

I stare at the clock in wonder

What's the time, don't dare to peep

So long as I turn off the light

I might make it rhough the night

Exercise on an invisible bike

Imagine it's a tiring hike

Stick my toes up in the air

Upside down chair if you like

Biking on a trip to nowhere

Shut my eyes, hum a hymn

What I need is a deep sleep

Don't need an expensive gym to thin

Sleep is healthy, sleep is cheap

Whilst I'm lying in the bed

write a poem in my head

Songs are short, poems are long

More money per word from a song.

I haven' slept a wink all week

I dinot waste time counting sheep

Don't complain it's the same refraing

It's a chorus coming round again.

-ends-

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A number of thoughts on numbers, comic poem 406 by Angela Lansbury

 

Do numbers like birthdays matter?

Yes, dear, you know, of course, they do

Being a two year old toddler

Is not like reaching ninety- two

My neighbour Alice is nearly ninety-five

I'm glad but shocked she's still alive

A happy soul, who knows no fear

She's outlived seven neighbours here

Ignoring newspapers and gloom

She travels, with eyes, round the room

Avoiding talk of bills and wills

No visitors, no sharing ills

But daughter in the USA

Watches her on Zoom every day

I have thought long and very hard

Should we send early birthday cards?

-ends-

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Good and evil comic poem 405 by Angela Lansbury

Every day I look out and I find

Evil outside, contrasts good in my mind

Sometimes I don't have lots of news to say

But I like to have my say anyway.

-ends-

Lookout and megaphone from Wiki.

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Sleep, deep sleep, comic poem no 404 by Angela Lansbury

 

Where do you fly to when you're asleep?

Up in blue sky or down in dark deep?

I don't go far, though I've seen the world

Guess where I'm hiding? Under sheets, curled

My eyes are there, resting under lids

My head, like a rock, holds the pillow

My legs, solid tree trunks, lift, shape sheets

Gentle lungs pump, like leaking bellows

My mind's busy sorting out the trash

Inventing movies with silly plots

You can see where I am, still in bed

Have I gone elsewhere? No I have not!

Although my two eyes aren't open wide

I''m gently breathing, pumping red blood

I promise you, there's action inside

Fighting the flu, doing unseen good.

When I wake up, I forget daft dreams

By nine I've had breakfast, smug - washed, dressed

Mind's clean, ready for sensible schemes

Refreshed by rest for doing my best 

I was not away during the night

You could wake me up with noise or light

Alarmed or annoyed after that fright

Then happy, ready to greet sunlight.

In dreams, packed old nonsense, dried out tears

Fondly surveyed photos of past years

I've sorted recent and distant fears

Found stores of smiles, for you. darling dears.

-end-

Photos from Wikipedia article on sleep. Sleeping Girl, Domenico Fetti, c. 1615,

Sleeping Girl, Domenico Fetti, c. 1615

Hours of sleep recommended for each age group^[91]

Age and condition Sleep needs Newborns (0–3 months)14 to 17 hours 

Infants (4–11 months)12 to 15 hours

Toddlers (1–2 years)11 to 14 hours

Preschoolers (3–4 years)10 to 13 hours

School-age children (5–12 years)    9 to 11 hours

Teenagers (13–17 years)8 to 10 hours

Adults (18–64 years)7 to 9 hours

Older Adults (65 years and over)7 to 8 hours

\

In the poem 404 I considered changing one line to

I promise quiet action inside.

When I revise my poems's first draft, or re-read it for typos, sometimes I think of another alliteration to add.

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Italian Food comic poem number 403 by Angela Lansbury

The Italian Trade agency

Set up a central London show

To help its businesses to grow

Sell food and drink we ought to know 

New or well-known in Italy

Looking for wider distribution

Wrote, 'writers,, taste a flight of wine

Register, sign up,' so we signed

Not for the public just the trade

Hoping useful contacts are made

Hoping that some entrepreurs are able

To supply supermarkets and  hotel tables

I'm almost expert, proud to know

Asti, Prosecco, Lambrusco

Eat spagetti, canneloni

Pollo sorpreso - Chianti!

Yesterday's new Italian food

Still on my mind, I'm in the mood

To tell you what I found so good

I'm sure promoters think I should

Events get full, we've often heard

So keen to be the early birds

We got up early, all was fine

Traffic delays - we'd cut it fine

Keen to claim seats, we took the bait

We ran and rushed, our train was late

But luckily, in southern climes

Italians start 'Italian time'

The same is said of 'Polish time', 

And 'Arab time', and 'Jewish time'

Common excuse, so never mind

When nearly late, that suits us fiue

-ends-

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