Where Does A Poem Come From? comic poem number 488 by Angela Lansbury

Where does a poem come from?

It's not floating in the air

It's pushing to be written

I wake from dozing in my chair

A poem starts like a dream

Ready to be recollected

From a dictionary of ideas

To be sorted and selected

The dictionary's a house of words

Short? Long? words aren't all the same

Your choice, your voice calls to be heard

Rhyme and rhythm rule the game

***

Messages prompted by emotion

Advertising, propaganda

I frown and scratch my tangled hair

I yawn and scrawl, right-hander

I'm glad I learned to touch type

Thoughts rush like waves, like pop-up toast

Re-writing not just a hype

Re-typing's what I do the most

I have tools correcting spelling

Which keep checking while I am dressing

Whatever thoughts I'm selling

The computer helps compressing

And if banal words bore us

AI, yet to try, is on hand

Inspiration from thesaurus

Helps me, clarify, you, understand

Even without a reader

My effort's not diminished

I can show it to the world

As soon as I have finished

A poem is a joy, 

A comedy to share

To prove one has a heart.

To tell the world you care

To lighten, brighten up your day

A good poem's worthwhile

For both writer and dear reader

To provide a daily smile.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems.

Poetry Or Prose? Comic poem 166

 

In olden times we used to rhyme

And many careful hours were spent

To check the rhythm every time

Before our precious words were sent

So from the first glance you could tell

If your poet was quite unwell

If his rant, or hers, not its, meant

Help, call doctors, social workers

Undertaker, write sympathy

Because a real plea is in prose

But now, we're so confused, who knows

Like texting's terse, poems just verse

An unknown writer, overseas

Shocked all of us with heartfelt pleas

😟

'Modern life is

 killing me

Please save me 

from my enemies!'

Just texts without punctuation

Leaving anxious readers wondering

Should I phone friends - grammar police

Or welfare checks from real police?

After kind readers sent sympathy

'Explain, dear friend,' 'Come round for tea!'

A sharper cynic sent wise words:

'It's not a plea - just poetry.'

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury 2023 March 20th

Photo of suicide prevention barriers on Golden Gate Bridge.

How Many Laughs? (To Encourage Comedians)

How many Laughs?
by 'Hazel nutter'
also known as Angela Lansbury

Today I decided I ought to save
My great jokes to leave beyond the grave
If you can't yet sing, song-write or paint
No use dreaming what you could create

The only thing that we all can do
If we can't tell lies from what is true
When lawyers and tax split your pennies in half
The only thing you can leave is a laugh

How many laughs will you leave behind
Can you entertain the deaf and blind
The widow and the widower
The employee and the employer

The orphaned, lonely, or crowded out
The undecided and deeply devout
To entertain both him and her
And those confused but willing to share

Those who frown with pencil raised
And those who gush with endless praise
And those who curse, this isn't verse
And those who shrug, it could be worse

The paralysed and the amputee
Examiner and examinee
Not only them but you and me
Yes, we, often neglected, ordinary

How much time do you need to spend
Making sure that you don't offend
One puzzled, cross, glaring or staring
In the crowd of those gleefully nudging and sharing

Will you leave behind a simple snigger
A smile and nod - or something bigger
Repeating jokes often told before
But twisted to add a tickle more

A laugh as loud as a deep guffaw
That's sure to rise to a riotous roar
A joke winning friends, raising funds for a cause
Extended 'til givers give you applause

For children, toddlers, women and men
A joke once heard, often re-told, again
Which sends a smile to brighten a day
A smile which stays wide and won't drift away

I would love to be one of the best
I can't help smile when I think of Mae West
Her jokes are subtle, though slightly rude
Her jokes grow good health, they're mental food

How many laughs can you leave behind
Let them tumble joyfully out of your mind
Write, spread joy's what you're meant to do
The returning reader who laughs could be you..
-ends-
28 April 2020