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.

 Please bookmark poems you would like to re-read, and share links with your family and friends

English Tweeting Bird comic poem number 383 by Angela Lansbury

 I woke up as the light was dawning

Only six o'clock in the morning

In the bathroom I heard tweet tweet

From a tiny bird out in the street

I said, "Hello,' and then a tweet-tweet

I thought he's so cute and really sweet

But probably calling to his friends

Like police summons, it never ends

I told him, if I may be so bold

I know you're lonely out in the cold

I'll interrupt you, beg your pardon

Feel free to fly into my garden

I love to hear your near tweet tweet tweet

But please don't drop poo onto the seat

Nor on the head of people below

Please tell your friends that I told you so

In my bathroom I did my small wee

Some vulgar people call it a pee

I tell my toddler grand-child wee's twee

I hope you'll agree and copy me

I'm in the bathroom by the bath

Looking through the bathroom window

Wash my hands, smile, give a laugh

But what is on the seat below!

The bird has left there something new

It looks just like some white bird poo

I bang the wondow, crossly shout

The tweeter's gone, to rout about

Later I'll go to clean away

The first outside job of the day

And make the garden clean and neat

Then welcome back the birdy's tweet

It's my first job to clean it all

I must be philosophical

I wish the birds good food to eat

To me - yuk -  worms!  To them it's meat

I, too, must eat, through vegans frown

And when my vegan friend's in town

I stick to eating lettuce leaves

Agree with her so she won't grieve

Then when she's gone, I'm like the bird

Just hop about, unthinking nerd

And eat whatever comes to hand

No planned, whatever's in my land

Drink water, say 'thank you,' and 'please'

The water lubricates your knees

I wickedly eat milk and cheese

Like birds go with the flow and breeze

What goes up must come down, white or brown

What goes around will soon come around

Day after day, birds wee but look sweet

They make my day with their tweet, tweet, tweet.

-ends-

Please share with friends the links to your favourite poems on my blogger post via messanger or to Facebook, Twitter (now X), Instagram, Pinterest and LinkedIn.

https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2024/02/english-tweeting-bird-comic-poem-number.html

Picture of hat for sale on RSPB website.

RSPB is the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds.

https://shopping.rspb.org.uk/gifts-home/clothing-and-outdoor/fashion-accessories/hats/rspb-beanie-2022.html

The colour is rust and the price is 25 pounds sterling. I have a birthday coming up.

Also see poem 400.

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.

Steam Train, Praise And Blame, Comic poem by Angela Lansbury - comic poem number 204

 

Author

Poetry Which Rhymes

That train, that train, that train again, 

It trains my whole mind to reframe, 

To times when I, a wondering child, 

Enjoyed time wandering in the wild, 

Would see the puffing , swirling steam, 

A white delight to save for dreams.

 

Good to behold, but truth be told

Steam trains would turn white washing black

And veil the air, pollute your lungs

Cleaner times now, no going back

Some kind driver has spent all day

To bring this vision down our way

Amazed that with our legislation

Who lets pollution hit our station?

Arrive by day, escape by night

I don't ask. I am too polite.

So let's just keep our fantasy

And let our eyes feast on steam's dance

And dream of good times in a trance

Re-living innocence - rare chance.

We now have clean, fast electric trains

Yet let, slow, steam trains, decorate our brains.

-ends-

Comic poem by Angela Lansbury on blogspot, poems by Hazel Nutter.

Please share links to your favourite poems. 

The link to this poem is

https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2023/07/author-poetry-which-rhymes-that-train.html

If today were my last day Comic Poem 120

 If today were my last day

What would the nosy neighbours say?

'Look  at that dress - look at that mess

We're all so glad she's gone away

'The dirty bins are overflowing

Strangling the flowers, weeds are growing

The bin men - they refused to call

So we're not sorry at all!'

That's why today I empty the bin

If someone calls, I can let them in

I've labelled keys to all the doors

Washed dishes, swept and hoovered floors

No worried thoughts entered my head

My only thought was, make the bed

All day I knew where I was heading

To make the bed with fresh, clean bedding

So if the Lord carries me away

I'm sure of what neighbours will say

A tidy house, an emptied bin!

That's why she would not let us in!

And when I'm gone, for days you'll see

The centipedes race round in glee

The weeds in triumph climb the bin

Until another soul moves in.

A lost gravestone, it ought to say

The way she lived 'til her last day

She wiped the dust, removed the rust

She's gone to some clean place we trust

She was a very careful soul

Did not have many issues

She would not want us crying

And throwing dirty tissues

We heard the noisy ambulance bell

Taking her off to heaven or hell

Ensuring she would not be late

For her date at the holy gate

Where every lazy woman and man

Lets her make heaven spic and span

We'll honour her, who passed away

And cleaned the house on her last day.

https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2022/02/if-today-were-my-last-day.htmlo

-ends-

I was wondering how many poems and posts I had written. I presumed on https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2022/02/if-today-were-my-last-day.htmloe poem per post and no post without a poem. I started numbering at the earliest date. After three, I was already tired. Then it struck me that the statistics page tells you how many posts you have written. today, Feb 18, 2022, the system tells me I have written 120 posts. That is more than enough for a book. 

When I have time I could go back and add the numbers. That is a quick way to identify poems. For example, to say that poem 1 has the same subject, dusting and cleaning, as poem 120. 

Secret Joys Of New Knickers Shared

I proudly wore my new knickers today
I found a brand new set hidden away
Still in the packet, brand new and bright clean
Not stained, faded, jaded, crisp gleam pristine

I wish you could see, dear - wish you were here.
The colours were bright and light and so clear
What joy to fetch, the elastic won't stretch
I've no fear they'll pop and shockingly drop

Try all, wear all three? Yes. No one will see 

I can or could, I feel happy and good

The colours are varied, red, white and black

I've lost the receipt - I can't take them back!

I'd found an old, new set hidden away
Proudly worn, soft silk, new knickers today.

No, no-one will know, so no-one will care
But it's a small joy I just had to share.

-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury 2019 Aug 24
Comic poem.

Your Pilot Speaking

(See explanation and background to this poem on my travel blog.) To be performed wearing a cap with gold buttons. Your Pilot Speaking by Angela Lansbury

 "This is your co-pilot speaking
I promise we're leaving on time
I know you feel like you're dying
Just breathe deeply, and you'll be fine ..."

"This is your co-pilot speaking
I'm sorry about the delay
If you look out of the windows
You'll see goat herds on the runway

"We don't usually tell you
When we see a snake on the plane
I lift my feet in the cockpit
Calmly sigh, 'Oh no - not again!'

"Whilst I am waiting for the vet
I announce, 'We're waiting for parts ...'
I send for vets - and two doctors
Mine quickly checks my waltzing heart!

"We know you've paid lots of money
We pretend complaints don't cause stress
Altitude makes food taste funny
Crew clean toilets, they do their best

"I hope you enjoy a pleasant flight
A safe journey, a lovely day
Remember whilst you have a holiday
We're working, driving, smiling, all day."

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury April 21 2017 Sorry, readers - I typed this out as verse but it appears on the page you read without the breaks because somewhere I have clicked on showing the HTML which means I have to insert the instructions for line breaks. One day, when I've sorted this out, I shall go back and check and change every post. Meanwhile I have to rush off to meetings.

Why I Must Dust - And You Must Dust! Comic poem 1

You'll Dust I Trust

by Hazel Nutter

I have to dust 'though I'd feel better

Painting pictures or penning a letter

If I left dust I'd cough and wheeze

My allergies would make me sneeze

I'd have red eyes, I'd sniff and snore

And so, although it is a chore

I'll Hoover, wash and dust some more

Clean folk live longer - that's the score

One boyfriend's flat was full of dust

His health and sense I did not trust

In his dust, large, I wrote my name

He'd dust before his next girl came!

I'm happy when I'm neat and clean

I'm glad Hoovers came on the scene

The new clean sweeps kept all alive

Before, graves tell, kids died by five

I knew someone really dirty

Don't know him now - he died at thirty

For me, cleaning's an hour or two

Then ten hours gained to write for you.

A restaurant, hotel, cafe

Will watch its business walk away

if everything is full of rust

Their profits lying in the dust.

What falls in open, cracked, milk jugs?

What lurks in dirty, long-haired rugs?

What feeds dust mites which feed bed bugs?

My friends who dust deserve my hugs.

2014 Feb 24

Written in response to the poem on Dust if you must reproduced in Facebook.

Comic poem number 1.

About the Author Of This Post, Angela

Angela Lansbury, travel researcher/writer and photographer, author and speaker. 

Author of Wedding Speeches & Posts, Etiquette for Every Occasion, Quick Quotations, Who Said What When?

You can contact Angela through Facebook, LinkedIn, and Braddell Heights Advanced Toastmasters on Facebook or Toastmasters Interntional.com find a club. Angela is a member of four Toastmasters Clubs and BHA IPP, Immediate Past President, and VP PR (Vice President Public Relations) for 20202-2021.

Feb 19 2022. I revised what fall in open white milk jugs

white jugs or white milk, to cracked, not just dust, but cracks, although the subject matter is dust.

I revised My friends who dust will win my hugs

I changed the alliteration to another alliteration which sounded more natural, 

to read My friends who dust deserve my hugs.

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