A Poet's Confession. Comical poem 833 by Angela Lansbury

 

Angela Lansbury performing a poem in August 2026 at the Writer's Summer School, an annual event at the Hayes Conference Centre in Swanwick, England, UK. The book is her latest book, Embarrassing Moments.

Last night I wrote a poem

For all my fellow poets

Who love to write about themselves

And shamelessly, proudly show it

Not satisfied to fill the page

They -  we, want to prance about the stage

Create a world of illusions

About their, our, private delusions

And my dearest friend Christine

Writes of things others haven't seen.

I dream I'll make lots of money

To replace teeth lost to chocolates and honey

I don't write of love, embarrassed

To admit I'm no longer harassed

By men who are well past eighty

Bothered by troubles more weighty

Those growing older still remember

The distant past like glowing embers

Embellished with relish by rhythm and rhyme

Repeated, like a chorus, all the time

And so I must conclude

I don't use words which are rude

I'm sure you appreciate, it's too late,

For that, my dearest fellow, mellow poets.

Last night I wrote a poem

I could write, and talk, all night

I no longer earn a wage

They'll soon make me leave the stage

I'm sure you understand

So please give me a big hand

Please look at my latest book

It costs nothing to look 

And then I shall look at yours

So we'll enjoy mutual applause.

-ends-

Please share limks to your favourite poems

My books on poetry, and quotations, are on Amazon.com and Lulu.com

My Shadow. Comical poem number 808 by Angela Lansbury

No matter where I choose to go

My faithful shadow follows me

I don't print gold invitations

To breakfast, lunch, dinner - or tea

Shadow from hand forms an animal face. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

My shadow patiently sits there

It hides behind me til day's end

Not like an enemy or spy

As harmless as a dimwit friend

That shadow's strangely very dark

When there's a strong, bright mid-day light

Like me the shadow goes to sleep

When I turn off the bed-time light

I've strange, important news for you

You have a hidden shadow, too

Our shadows meet when we shake hands

I guess deep down you always knew

But what use to me's a shadow?

To a child I can explain

My hand makes shadows on the wall

Gone? Back again - I entertain.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems.

Send the links to your favourite family and friends.

My books on Amazon and Lulu have amusing poems, eg Poetry Pets and Pests, which is educational, and Poetry Workbook has a list of poetry patterns so you can write similar structured poems.

Nurse And Friend. My advice. Comical poem 782 by Angela Lansbury. Notes on Numbering Poems.

 

Photo by Angela Lansbury.

When I'm looking for a good friend

I think, 'Am I a useful friend?;

When I am looking at myself

 I check my words show mental health

When I visit a friend for tea

When a friend comes to visit me

When I'm asked around for dinners

Host and guest, are we both winners?

We take our child around to play

Don't want sad tales of yesterday

We want to eat today, and more

Not tears about hunger before

We're ill and call a hospital

We want to meet a smiling nurse

Not one in tears about a death -

An ambulance, and not a hearse

As parent, nurse, doctor, teacher

Writer, author, mentor, preacher

Our job is to give out good news

Not dwell on the unlucky few

If you call me to call today

My reply reflects what you say

If I can hear your smiling face

I'll rush my smiles round to your place.

-ends-

The numbers on my comical poem posts are useful in several ways.

1 They enable me, and you, to find a poem even if I changed the title.

2 They enable me to search for a recent or early poems.

3 I can compare styles and themes of early and late poems.

4 I can keep numerical track of proportions of themes, eg 20 out of 100 poems are on a particular.

 subject.

5 I can see whether I can publish all my poems in one book, or if a book is 100 poems, or 50, or 25, or 250, or a bumper 500, how many books can I publish, taking into account the printer's limit on pages, the cost to me as self-publisher, and the cost to potential buyers. Am I better off publishing an e-book?

6 I can work out how long it would take to read all my poems to select some for a book, the best ones, or those on a particular theme, assuming a theme is easier to sell.

Your Music Or Mine? Comical poem number 752 by Angela Lansbury.

Everyone good loves music

It can soothe you when you're sick

All kinds of music win applause

But I like mine - yet you like yours

I like trad jazz, but you like new

I don't know what I'm going to do

But if you have bought my ticket

I have to pretend I like it

Conductor's baton, banging drums

Announce something important comes

The orchestra starts tuning up

Like strong black coffee in white cups

We wait for music to begin

Co-ordinating violins

The smart black of the dinner suits

The gentle tooting of the flutes

The player paused at the piano

Is that someone I'd like to know?

Or someone I'd not like to know?

If they don't go, then I might go

He hears a swaying symphony

I hear modern cacophany ...

At last, the interval, the bar

Rewards patrons who've travelled far

Americans on a great vacation

Start animated conversation

From food and drinks we make a choice

That's the best use of my small voice

When all the bridges have been burned

What are the lessons I have learned?

That happiness is just the trick

Of pretending you like the music

The friend's voice which I love to hear

The loved ones who I hold so dear

Alive, and smiling with me here

That's the best music to my ear.

-ends-

My Friend's Two Teacups Gift Rediscovered comical poem 699 by Angela Lansbury

 

My friend bought me two fine teacups

When she came, one of four, to stay

As a thank you when her clan left

With thanks, on the very last day

Shae and I were very close then

We talked of our hopes and fears

Years later, her husband left her

She phoned, she was ill, in tears

The two teacups were neglected

Not a match, like buyers remorse

Her gift hidden in a corner -

Her voice infrequent, and hoarse

The cups were pushed back, neglected

Sat in a lonely, distant place

I rarely washed dust collected

Replaced, like her forgotten face

We did not drink tea but coffee

We did not need them for our tea.

Then one day we needed soup bowls

Why not tea cups? Right size, and free

Yes, now the cups are out again

We love them, use them daily

Maybe I should call up my friend

Like the cups, retrieved so gaily

Often old garments, like old friends

Are still too good to throw away

After years they come back in use

Like an old dog's, new, treasured, day.

-ends-

Our Lovely World comical poem 691 by Angela Lansbury

 We all live in a lovely world

If we never speak nor read news

If we just think what good we've done

Ignoring lists of what to do

If we admire fine, grand houses

And don't wish that big one was mine

If we ignore old and new wars

But enjoy views, enthuse, 'I'm fine'

The doctor asked me, 'How are you?'

'My mind's fine, thanks - my body's not,

I've got titinitus, hammer toes, 

Strange pains, and tunes play in my heart.'

I don't weep for distant victims

Rant about fireworks, nor bombing.

See - no ants, butterflies nearby

Squirrels share their sense of belonging

I relax in isolation

People watch passers-by in crowds

When single, that was my problems

Couples kid's problems? I'd laugh loud

My bird clock. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

When flower perfume pleases us

And each musical bird or tune's pleasure

Breathing fresh air, glad we're alive

Our smiling face in a mirror's our treasure

When we're filled, fulfilled with wonder

The ocean's calm, and blue and deep

If we yawn but gladly to be awake

But prepare to have a good sleep

If we love drinking pure water

As much as Champagne or sweet wine

If we're glad happy with friends or alone

We do live in the perfect time.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems.

Memories of My Friend Kim poem 462

A writer's chair. Drawing by Angela Lansbury. Copyrright.
 

I looked for Kim

Happy Kim

Kim who I'd be glad to greet

Kim whom I'd been glad to meet

She wasn't there

An empty chair

If she wan't here

Then why? Then where?

When we first met

I can't forget

She was seated in a crowd

A happy group luaghing loud

I smiled at her, she smiled at me

I walked towards her joyfully

Alas, I could not see a seat

Nowhere to drink, nor talk nor eat

The others shurgged

I felt unloved

She moved, so sweet

So I could have a vacant seat

Next day I rushed

For breakfast in the dining room

I saw her table, I was crushed

A man declared, 'No room! No room!'

She and I were conspirators

 So, when we were able

We both sat at the same, cosy 

Small, round, supposedly full table

Was there a space?

Someone said, .'No!'

I stood,  perplexed

Prepared to go

I'd say goodbye

And what do next?

An empty chair

Yes, there was, no surpise

Kim gave a smile

A slight, slight, nod

She rolled her eyes

I thought I'd sit, 

And so, I sat

So Kim and I 

Could have a chat

I said, loudly 'When your friend

Comes back, I'll move,'

I played that game

Their missing friend? She never came!

This year I looked

Kim wasn't there

A mutual friend

I found an empty chair

I spoke politely to her friend

And then, at last, gave him a stare

I asked, 'And Kim

Please tell me, dear

Where is Kim, why's she not here?'

He paused, cleared his throat

Breathed in, and sighed

'You didn't know?

Last year she died

'She had cancer, yes, far too young

You didn't know?

I suppose, when it's your time

You have to go.'

I could not spoil, his day, his holiday 

If he knew more, he didn't want to say

 I could not spend more time upsetting him

He stared at the floor. I said no more

I cannot find her photograph

Yet see her smile

And hear her laugh

She was tall and she was slim

Nobody else had heard of Kim

So I'm bereft

Now she has left

I do not want to spoil my day

Nor yours

Yet she won't go away

And so instead

Censor my head

Search constantly for her photograph

For in my head an ever fading photograph

I still recall her smile and laugh

When the slightest sad thoughts begin

I overlay my thoughts of Kim

With glad memories I can't forget

The joy, the welcome, when we met

The way she cunningly 

Found me my place

With raised eyebrows, 

A cynic, friend's face

And so I smile as I think,

Of conspirators, a nudge, a wink

A happy person, tall and thin

My happy memory of Kim.

-ends.

Written in memory of Kim Byles at Swanwick writers Summer School at the Hayes Conference centre, Derbyshire, met annually between 2014 and 2023. Died of cancer. Into farming. Wrote a novel, never publsihed. Created a play which was performed by a group. Had a writing buddy in SW England, in Devon or Cornwall. If anybody has a photo of her, I would like to have it.

Very poignant. Despite my efforts to end on a happy note, this poem makes me cry, reading it aloud.

I asked on Facebook if anybody knew any more. Geof contacted me and gave me her family name. I found an obit and some lobvely pictures of her looking happy. I feel much better now. The picture of her on the hay bale is so jolly.

She died Dec 23rd 2023.  Husband Ross. She wwas born in 1956 and died aged 67. About ten years younger than I am.

https://funeral-notices.co.uk/notice/byles/5164792

https://kimbyles.muchloved.com/Gallery/Pictures#image-gallery-1

It may seem odd to honour her with a poem loaded onto my comic poetry site. But her obituary asked for mourners to wear cheerful colours. Humour helps us cope with lifes downs as well as augmenting the ups. 

The picture below shows her laughing atride a hay bale. I wonder if that was on her family's farm.

She was a fun person.

She had arched eyes and looked straight at you.

One thing arresting about Kim, was the way she looked straight at you. She also asked you about yourself. A very engaging personality.

Geoff Parkes sent these

Kim Byles far left. At Swanwick Writers' summer school.  

Kim and her husband. Photo by Geoff Parkes.

Kim's writing room. By the outdoor swimming pool.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite posts

Pre-schooler And The Puppy comic poem number 362

 Sweetie's aunty bought a puppy

Asked Swetie to meet her

Told Sweetie, 'Don't be afraid

Would you like to greet her?

'When you want to make a friend

You can give them a treat

If you don't have a thought or gift

You give them something nice to eat!'

So Sweetie gave the dog a treat

The dog is now her friend

The dog and Sweetie, both are happy

Thaat's how all good stories end.

But I must add a moral

About how to run one's life

About how to end a quarrel

Anf fix the whole world's strife

Sweetie's learned to give and take

And how to make a friend

How friendships mend before they break

The trend's find love to send and in the end.

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury.'

Sweetie' is my grandchild. I changed her name to Swetie to make the poem more universal, and to give privacy and security to the child.

Please share links to your favourite blog posts.

Worse Troubles! comic poem 215 by Angela Lansbury

When the swimming pool water is cold

It's better to remember

Worst troubles at sea

It's colder in snow in December

I look out of my spotted window

And see that it is dismally raining

I could be out there, soaking, hiking

In a pak-a mac, so stop complaining

When you are suffering an itch

Its better to recall

The problems of the very rich

Who fear to lose it all

When your snack's too salty

Or maybe it's too sweet

Give it to the poor insects

The dear things don't care what they eat

Insect in toilet bowl. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

You might have constipation

A dead insect's in the toilet bowl

Flushed, it's half gone

Half''s a bit better than whole

Could it have been a cricket?

At first I thought a gecko

Alive, No, dead. I didn't know

Whatever, friends, it had to go!

When you have lost a loving friend

Think of the good things flippantly said

Just think, would you be happier

If both of you were dead?

If you don't like this poem

I'll put things right somehow

Put you out of your misery

By ending it all (the verse) now.

What good have I done today

To make your day and mine worthwhile?

A waste of time, of yours and mine?

No. It's always worthwhile to smile.

-ends- 

Wednesday 6th September 2023. Please share links to your favourite posts. You can quote the last verse in its entirety but make sue to include my name and a link to the whole poem. Thanks.

I think the last verse could become a quotable classic.

Please becomea a follower for a smile a day.

Artificial Intelligence 194

 Artificial intelligence, dear

Are you smarter than me?

If you really are so clever, dear

Please tell me what you see

I think it should be smarter than I

Did you spot the error?

It is wrong. But can you tell me why?

I rely on AI.

Never mind, I can tell you why

You see, I's the subject

And me is the object

Not clear? Then ask AI.

AI is always there to help

Ai is always willing to share

AI is trained to say, 'Well done, dear?'

But does AI really care?

AI can improve my photo

AI's filters are trained to flatter

Duolingo says I've five out of thirty

But does that rating really matter?

Some say that AI's just a spy

Invading all my privacy

It keeps on asking where am I

Does it know too much about me?

I don't care how much it knows

If it helps me to be a winner

I'd love to have it dye my clothes

And order my favourite dinner.

AI means I am never lost

AI is my newest friend

Right now for very little cost

The novelty will never end.

-ends-

Duolingo teaches languages. At the time of writing I was learning German (as well as Spanish and Chinese, Mandarin.

Description	English: A simple digital vector art of an octopus like creature, used as the logo of Auto GPT.
Date	30 April 2023
Source	agpt.co
Author	AutoGPT Development Team

Also see Angela's Alarming Animal Poems ISBN 978-1-4717-1644-7

Her Name Was Becky, she wasn't a techie - comic poem by Angela Lansbury

 

Her name was Becky; she wasn't a techie

She wasn't a fool, 'cos she went to art school

She wore a short dress - it was such a success

No boy could resist when that girl did the twist!

Her ear-rings shook, long - she could do nothing wrong

Black eyes, her face pale, one ex-boyfriend on bail

But what did he break? She claimed, 'just a mistake'

She got in a muddle, lost keys, such trouble

Yet she smiled, easy-going, always such fun

She quoted her Mum - 'there's someone for everyone'

She was my best friend, but, all good things must end

She married young. Why?  Had had a baby begun?

She did well for herself, found a millionaire

He was short and bald, she chopped off her long hair

I often wish I could find her, somehow

Bohemian Becky - please - where is she now?

-ends-

Based on my friend Cynthia. She went to art school. She had short hair and long dangling ear-rings. In the Swinging Sixties. We travelled to Greece, Turkey and Israel together. She married young. We lost touch.

About the Author

Angela Lansbury is a travel writer and photographer, author and speaker, fashionista. Please share links to your favourite posts or one or more of the blogs

Books include Wedding Speeches and Toasts (Ward Lock/Cassell)

Quick Quotations (Lulu.com) 

travelwithangelalansbury.blogspot.com

dressofthedayangela.blogspot.com

At The Wedding - A Parent's View

My goodness - they have filled the room

With exes of the bride and groom

I've got a lot that I could say 

But they would wish I'd stayed away

I could say that she's been around

I could say he's hard to tie down

I could say, I really worry

I could ask them, what's the hurry?

I could say, yes, she is a dear

You should have married her last year

I could have asked, what took so long?

Those ons and offs!  Now, what went wrong?

They won't let me give a speech

At top table we're out of reach

Our chief job is to sit and smile

Not tell the bride to run a mile

I sat and read the seating list

I've noted all the good  friends missed

But out of that small, happy crowd

When they said their vows, who laughed so loud?

 I saw the tall, wheelchairs, the small, 

The old, the young, the thin, the fat, 

That girl who wore the biggest  hat, 

The usher with no tie, nor hat 

They say our son is quite a catch

They don't say my hat doesn't match

It's what it is, not what it ain't

Because the room's too hot - I faint

I sit down. But soon recover

Looking pale like a grandmother

Our minister, we'd two, now one

Just carries on until he's done

We've donned finest hats and dresses

For two hours forget all stresses

A voice declared them man and wife

In other words, you're stuck for life

We're off to lunch to eat our fill

Just pay the bill, son, change your will

You two are now hitched up for life

Politely called a man and wife

The best man, who should be on guard

To stop a fight, is trying hard

Best man's a Dad and looking thin,

 His girl's had five - they live in sin

Thee best man wore a funny hat

He stood up, his first joke fell flat 

He hints secrets he'll never tell

Unless he's drunk - let's wish them well!

The groom is swaying, too, I think

He must have had too much to drink

He's lots to hide from his new bride. 

Her parents, and exes beside 

I've got so much I want to say

I'll leave it till another day

I won't tell them all that I know

I'll never say, I told you so.

She chose to forsake all other

Mother, father, sister, brother

He never heeded our advice

Although we told him once, then twice

Once married, he will quickly find

His wife will want to change his mind

On everything he thought was right

What he buys and does, dawn 'til night

Yet she will think the same is true

Once being wed's no longer new

Though two can live as cheap as one

To overspend's now twice the fun

I'm not sure which one's the winner

Just McDonalds making dinner

I'm sure they'll muddle through somehow

Best news - it's not our problem now.

Photos show us in our glory

That picture tells half the story

The photos show how glad I feel

Her lot, like ours, not down at heel

There's no cost for simply bedding

But you need cash for a wedding

The newly-weds to work must set

To pay off all their wedding debt

I hope their marriage lasts a year

So I'll retire and disappear

We've a spare room, with junk, at home

If they want me, I'll Answerphone

Being a mother was quite tough

But I've survived hurdles and rough

I've done enough. But I can't quit -

They'll soon demand I babysit!

A wedding proves what we all know

All that can go wrong will do so

I hope that you'll give me applause

Was our wedding like yours - or worse than yours?

-ends-

Angela Lansbury Nov 15 2020

Poetry Revision Notes

The first draft improved after i made every line eight syllables

I made each verse end with a surprise

I changed 'and one or two others beside' to the more specific 

Her parents, and exes, beside

I changed

Two can get twice as little done

Alternative endings:

Our wedding was the same as yours

Was our wedding the same as yours?

About the Author

Angela Lansbury is the author of 20 books, 10 by traditional publishers, ten self-published through Lulu.com the print on demand system.

Angela's books include:

Poetry Workbook - A handy book for yourself or a friend who is a poet, adult or schoolchild. The poems are amusing and there's a handy guide to all the formats, such as the two main styles of sonnet, the numbers of syllables in haiku, villanelles and so on.

In addition to other posts on this blog, please bookmark and share linkes with your colleagues and friends and family to the two  most written and most read of my other 20 blogs:

travelwtihangelalansbury.blogspot.com

dressofthedayangela.blogspot.com

Never neglect to say goodbye

I say hello, later goodbye
I know that you will ask me why

Never neglect to say hello
Never neglect to say goodbye
That way you never lose a friend
Start well and that's how you should end

A friend will be there when you laugh
And therefore stay there when you cry
Make sure you always count two smiles
To compensate for when you sigh

One day, tomorrow you will die
So never forget to say goodbye.

Then when you reach the pearly gate
I guarantee you won't long wait
But you'll see friends you used to know
And they'll be glad to say hello.
-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury Jan 2020

From Young To Old by Angela Lansbury

You run so fast from young to old
You run so fast from hot to cold
You run so fast from cold to hot
From yes I can to I cannot

Fast learn the skill of one who can
Watch folks fast change from woman to man
If you keep busy every day
How fast your life will pass away

You run so fast from cold to hot
From I remember to I forgot
You run so fast from rival to friend
You run so fast from start to end

You run so fast from hot to cold
You run so fast from young to old.

- ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury

Friday 17 January 2020.

10 Egg Tricks - and an egg poem which I was egged on to write

I'll have to beg

I'll have to beg
You to go shopping for a pint of milk
Another box, I need another egg
I shall reward you with a great surprise
Not just an egg, a shape to please your eyes

It's just five minutes walk, my dear
It's exercise, not losing a whole day
Besides, I have a secret plan
Something I'll do while you're away

Please don't suspect I'll phone another
Friend, or mother, or waste time watching porn
Trust me, I have a tea-time plan
I promise something new will soon be born

I long for your return each time we part
I shall create messages of love upon the plate
For cookery is just another love, another art
To give, and to receive, an egg - shaped like a heart!
-ends-
Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 2017. Wed 2nd August.

The Hardest Part of Writing A Poem

Comment to Darren Scanlon who uploaded his poem
The Ballad Of Fred The Frog
on webpage Poets United

Dear Poet

You wrote a funny poem
You wrote a poem to amuse
I must say you succeeded
It blew away my late night blues

I love to read new poems
I feel I've found new friends
Whether a poem's long or short
I'm sorry when it ends

Your poem has inspired me
It's made me want to write
And if I don't write right away
I'll be up half the night

A poem, plus a drawing!
I must say I'm impressed
Quite frankly, now that I'm retired
I struggle to get dressed

The thing I want to ask you
Which bothers me the most
My dear, how do you do it -
How do you upload a post?

Angela Lansbury (annalondon8@gmail.com)

This Poem Is An Atheist's Gift To Believers

Gift of Religion

by Angela Lansbury

This is my gift to you

My first and last white lie

To tell you I saw heaven

A happy or sad sigh

When I was born

And when I die

This is my gift to you

Which I can leave behind

To paint a better world

From my mind to your mind

A touch to soothe the deaf

A word image for the blind

This is my gift for you

For me it has to use

Take it, I do not need it

You gain, I do not lose

An ornament, an art, a lie

I’m practical, I just need truth

What can I leave to you?

A poem or a song?

What can I leave in ribbons

Like a chocolate, when I’m gone?

A lie or just the truth

Am I right or am I wrong?

You may say, she didn’t mean it

You may say what you please

You may say that heaven is golden bells

And the moon is made of cheese

Just say what makes you happy

Stop, or move on, what will ease

The strangest thing is

When we are truly dead

My words still reach to you

Today’s thoughts from my head

Time, and timeless, still preserved

What we both thought, and read and said

And so I leave to you my friend

A friendship that will never end

I would not take away from you

It’s your choice, what you think is true

You do what you want to do

And I will leave a smile for you.

I showed this to my family

It went round and round

One said that it was funny

One said it was profound

So I’ve earned immortality

An atheist underground.

-ends-

Angela Lansbury, May 2nd 2016. Copyright.

Author’s note: The last word underground is slightly pessimistic, but by happy chance it is humorously ambiguous as it could be taken to mean subversive.

I hope this poem will please believers as well as atheists and agnostics. It might even be used as a witty and consoling funeral poem.

I was inspired by a BBC article about an Italian poet.  The theme of the article was how atheists may work against or with religion, seen like myths as providing comfort and common culture.

The translations convey the meaning but miss the emphasis. In the original, as is often the case in English, as should be the case in the translation, the last word of the sentence is the one emphasised by the writer and left most remembered in every listener's mind, as well as anticipated by some readers with a knowledge of that languages words which rhyme.