The Bathroom Speaks. Comical Poem 851 by Angela Lansbury.

 

Bathroom basin.

Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

At night when I take a walk

I dream the bathroom fittings talk

The carpet feels my large warm feet

And comments every time we meet

Imagine fittings don't forget

But love visits and take a bet

'Our room's important, we shall see ...'

'Sh, here she comes to fondle me!' 

'Hooray, householder's coming back.'

'I bet she'll pee,' 'I bet she'll crap'

'The body parts we must not mention

But, ooh, we do love attention!'

'Toilet's important, crushes mush

And has a satisfying flush ...'

'Turn me, I'm ready, here, hot tap'

'Hooray, my turn, she's coming back.

'I'm pretty towel, lovely, soft'

'I'm toothbrush, please lift me aloft.'

'I'm toothpaste, over here, please.

I love it when I get a squeeze!'

'She done, hooray, we all feel rich'

'Lastly, it's me, I'm the light switch

Whether you're clean, or have been sick

I give a satisfying click'

'I hope you like our happy rhyme

Goodbye, householder, till next time!'

-ends- 

Every time I write a poem, I am so pleased with it. I think, all the other hundreds of poems might be forgotten, but this one will be repeated, remembered and repeated, and give pleasure for centuries.

Which poem is your favourite?

I'd love to have a comment from you. Who was it who said, 'writers ask for criticism, but all they want is praise'? 

I asked Gemini. It was W. Somerset Maugham in his 1938 book Of Human Bondage. He wrote: 'when people ask you for criticism, they want praise'.

-ends-

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Nobody Knows. Comical poem 826 by Angela Lansbury.

 

What you do in the bathroom

Nobody knows

If you wash your hands after 

Blowing your nose

If you are wearing too small, or too large

Or stained underclothes

If you don"t tell, nobody knows

If you keep a secret which nobody knows

So long as you don't forget and tell

Nobody cares, because nobody knows

After death if you go to heaven or hell

If you don't tell, nobody knows.

-ends-

Exercise - comical poem by comical poem 638 Angela Lansbury

 

Walking Frame.  Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 

I got up from my wheelchair

and used my walking frame

I nearly fell over.

Who can I blame?

Tell someone in a wheelchair

That they need to exercise

Expect to get a glare or two

From incredulous eyes

After two weeks in a wheelchair

I found I'd put on weight

I walked at night to the bathroom

Next day I got up late

I have to get back on my feet

For ten seconds or more

I promise I'll do more next week

I might walk as far as the door

I did exercise while in my bed

Rolled my shoulders, rocked my head

I lifted my feet in the sky

And waved both hands to say goodbye

The physio said

When you're sitting in your seat

I want you marching

Both your feet

Life is what it is

No point moaning

You'll be happier

Creating seratonin

I've followed their instructions

To the letter

Now I deserve

To get better.

But if I don't

What can I say?

Whether walking, sitting, standing

Lucky you. Have a nice day.

-ends-

Confession time. The first verse was added to my poem about exrcise and a wheelchair because I had a picture of a walking frame.

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The Happy Traveller. Comic poem 148 by Angela Lansbury.

 I'm the world's most happy traveller

I've travelled far and near

To the kitchen and the bathroom

Around the world with you, my dear

I've travelled to Australia

Austria, America, Malaysia

To places grander, and seedier

All through Wikipedia

Travelling makes you happier

Travelling makes you greedier

Travelling makes you dishevelled and dappier

Travelling make you needier

You want to travel when you're stuck at home

You want to be home when you're far away

Today you wish it was tomorrow

Tomorrow you'll wish it was today

Travelling makes you wise and proud

Of what you leave, you see, and do

I'm glad to say I've travelled so much -

I can count one country more than you.

-ends-

July 12 2022

Shall I change that to

'I have travelled to one place more than you' ?

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Another Cockroach On The Floor and a Spider's Web Over The Bed

Another Cockroach on the Floor and a Spider Over The Bed
a lament by Angela Lansbury

I am barefoot in the bathroom
There's a cockroach on the floor
Which is worse, running or still -
Between me and the door?

If there's one thing I don't like
It's a spider on the bed
I'm sure its bad for flies
But now it hurts my head

Right now things would be better
If one of us were dead.

When I see a spider's web

Lurking empty overhead

I wonder where the spider's gone

It's bound to show, before too long

If I stay still and look around

Inspecting walls, ceiling and ground

Brooches shaped like beetles I don't like a bit
What use is a cockroach, a mosquito-ridden lake
Though I'm prepared to eat a pig-shape chocolate
And I've had round salmon-pink 'steak' from a cut-up snake

But another thing I don't like at all
Is ants on a table or desk
Although a gecko which eats them is useful
Up the wall, like me, devouring pests

We have filled the floor with insect traps
We're choking on insect spray
It's another day in the tropics
But neither they, nor I, will go away.

I read somewhere that cockroaches

Have survived a million years

Frankly a single insect, now

Is enough to tug at my fears

I can throw it through the window

Pretend I did it a favour

I didn't kill it - it might come back

Thinking I am its saviour.

-ends-