Fabulous Food For the Festive Season comical poem 703 by Angela Lansbury

 It is always good 

To talk about food

A little something

To make you feel good

I like to chatter

About foods which matter

You ought to eat healthily

Even if you're not wealthy

Some food makes you fatter

Like sugar and batter

Whilst salads will slim you

To fit clothes which flatter

I start with something

That's good for my heart

A grapefruit with red cherry

Some like sherry to make merry

I like a Prosecco

From warm Italy

Or a Cava from Spain

Or Champagne's fine by me

We like to eat fish

Three times weekly, a dish

We never forget

To add some courgettes

And we're never mean

With well-cooked aubergine

I praise the good cook

For the care which he took

Potato in its jacket

Is easy to bake

Soy sauce in a packet

A minor mistake

End with a surprise

Christmas pud, or mince pies

At three, the king's speech

Will he praise, thank, teach or preach?

For high tea, Christmas cake

If we're all still awake

We'll all diet, I believe

Until New Year's Eve.

I hope old friends will say

'You're looking good!'

And my husband won't quip 

'Like a Christmas pud!'

-ends-

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Different Tastes - Why Doesn't Someone Tell Them! comic poem 217 by Angela Lansbury

 

When I was a small child, I liked milk and water

As a wary teen I met yogurt, strong coffee, 

My taste for drinking sweet wines started much later

Loved sweets and chocolate, lost a tooth filling in toffee

Now I love to photograph, tall, fine, green palm trees

But I can't understand why a good God made snakes

Some people like small insects, not high seas, high trees

Fight dengue with insect spreay, you must give or take

Some people tramp the moors, the great cloudy outdoors

Others dance slow in a candle-lit, dim, disco

Brits like a soft carpet, Italians tiled floors

Don't like who you know? Then, no problem. Off you go!

Creative types like lived in houses; called,  "A mess!"

Some stiff types like jackets with buttons and stiff zips

Hoarders are happily slopping around, half-dressed

Tiaras, pink ribbons, sealed packs of hair clips   

Some like old jeans, torn, stained with paint, faded

Some like sequins, satins, smart high heels and glitter

Some like bow ties, dress codes, some shrug and are jaded

Some like smoth, soft silk, others think clothes don't matter 

Some like green and red salad, healthy juice and fruit

Some would welcome my meals, others beeline to you

Some go barefoot, some love long, leather, kinky boots

Perplexed? Stand in the middle, unfazed, muddle through.

Sometimes it won't matter what you and I can say

With adults it's less stress to not make any fuss

Some unique people prefer to go their own way

Some are grateful for direction. Kids copy us!

My friend, the lawyer, her words echo in my head

Well-paid lawyers work researching all night and day

I'll always remember what she cynically said.

She warned, 'I don't give advice - unless people pay!'

-ends- 

Garden City. Trees with sparkling lights. Scotts Road, Singapore. Photo by Angela Lansbury.

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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-

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