Showing posts with label broom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label broom. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 13, 2023

Coconuts Make You Nuts comic poem 225 by Angela Lansbury

Coconuts. Photo from Wikipedia.


Down by the cool blue swimming pool

The water's cool and I am cool

The trees provide a welcome shade

After my swim, sit in the glade


The unformed guide soon comes out

His job is walk about and shout

Not like a bride, more like a groom

With a brisk broom sweeping in each room


Maybe, 'cause he's always working

He sees me swim,  thinks I'm shirking

It's exercise, I tell no lies

Yes, a 'work out' must mean working

Coconuts under palms at Cashew Heights condominium Singapore. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.


 On trees coconuts are yellow

The Guard warns me, they'll soon mellow

Watch out, too late when they turn brown

For one by one they'll fall down


You never should sit underneath

Because one day you'll come to grief

I am too old to die, and wise

To accidents of any size


I am wary, sit here, sit there

This place, that place, this chair, that chair

My bed is where I'd like to die

That is why I'm coconut shy.

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury September 14th 2023.

To help any foreign language speakers, the last line is a pun on a Coconut Shy, which is a game at a fairground where you throw a ball to hit a coconut off its support and win it.

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Saturday, September 2, 2023

The Beautiful Broom comic poem 211 by Angela Lansbury

 I'm here to praise the humble broom

Which cleans the floor in every room

The sturdy broom which you can trust

To move around dead dirt, dire dust


To leave the foor and shelves quite clean

To make your home gleaming, pristine

To make the old place look like new

It seems to know just what to do


It does the job, thorough, and yet

Why does it suffer such neglect?

We decorate the walking stick

With handles carved to lure the quick


That parasol displays its paint

Each broom grows dirty, pale and faint

Finally, bristles twisted, thin

It's thrown aside, beside the bin



The broom removes dead spiders' webs

It finds odd shoes under the beds

Under sofas, roll tins of drink

Last night's party? We nod and wink


Let's carve each broom's handle, paint it

Give it honour, give it glory

Each battered broom keeps us healthy

Knows our secrets, tells no story.

-ends-

I have other blogs on travel and dress.

Please share links to your favourite poems and posts.