My Latest Prayer For A Millionaire. comical poem 875 by Angela Lansbury

 

Pill box. Circular. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

All day I'm asking God for things

All night a constant list of prayers

But just like when I go shopping

I forget the most important things

And leave that vital list on the chair

Yesterday I asked for something big

Please send me a millionaire

I knew it was important

To clearly specify

He has to be keen on me

No one night stand, just passing by

I do not want a burglar

I do not want a gangster

I do not want a gambler

Nor a smoker, vegan, or prankster

He must be in good health

And take care of his wealth

And have all his teeth and hair

He must be willing to share

And he must not swear

He must like good food and wine

I still want all the other things

On my long shopping list

Lots of love and hugs

And be cuddled and kissed

Keep me safe from fire and flood

From car crashes and plane smashes

He must like good food and wine

And having a good time

Avoid sinking ships, diseases of the blood

I know that I must pay my way

Give something in return

Not drop litter, do the washing up

Remember foreign words I've learned

Make sure the dinner doesn't burn

Do exercise and brush my teeth

And wash my face and hair

Dear God are you listening

Dear God - are you there?

I'm not childish, nor unreasonable

Wicked or irreligious

I've noticed believers say it every day

They mention God all the time

In every sentence that they say

Whether they are healthy,

When they are ill

Jews, Arabs, dancers in Brazil

Yes, sexy Brazilian couples, too

They say, God willing, just listen

You know it's true, it's a usual thing to do

So I hope you'll understand

If I share my little prayer

May I live to be a hundred - and send me a millionaire.

PS Make that a millionaire

In pounds, Euros, or US dollars

Not in rupees, or currencies

Whose promises are hollow

I'm not in any hurry

Any time tomorrow

PPS

Please don't hurt my husband

He'll do fine for now

Any time in the next ten years

I'm sure you'll work it out, somehow

PPPS

I promise I will take my pills

And always promptly pay my bills

I know you are a kindly God

Won't stress us, for you care

So just send me a billionaire

Who wants to have an affair.

-ends-

Saving Space comic poem 481 by Angela Lansbury

 Gadgets designed for saving space

Are filling my over-filled place

I buy suitcases which expand

And scissors which fit both my hands

My problem is I cannot find

The white walking cane for the blind

The hearing aid, and my spare teeth

Are hidden somewhere underneath

I know I bought one, but forget

The secret place where it was set

To hide from burglars, book disguise

Will also hide it from my eyes

I've summer clothes and winter clothes

But in between ones, no-one knows

They're in a suitcase, on the floor

Or hiding, shy, behind the door

I need to find the bill for rates

I found the tea cups, lost the plates

I found the fork but lost the knife

Can't find tea spoons to save my life

I've fixed ten shelves onto the wall

But can't find anything at all.

I've put old leaflets in the bin

But more arrive - you just can't win.

I've folded big bags in small ones

Expanding bags - holiday fun

Old things bought last year now are missed

My shopping list - I've lost that list

What will they say when I have died?

Here's the whole life of this old dear

To sort it out will take a year

Throw it away - at least she tried.

-ends-

Copyright Angela Lansbury

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A Happy Bedtime Poem For Adults. comic poem number 475 by Angela Lansbury

 Why do I want to write a poem

 When it's time to go to bed?

Is there nothing more important

Filling, spilling from my crammed computer-like head?

Why don't I design a garden city?

Or a ribbon party dress that's sequin pretty

Or a useful theory which explains

And cures midnight's imagined aches and pains?

Is a poem procrastinating, just a helpful way

Of sorting out a tangled, mangled busy day

Of pushing out and clearing cluttered stress

Creating dreams from a waste basket of recycled mess?

Like baking a new cake from melted fears

A sprinkling of almond smiles and iced roses of laughter

Thawing ice cubes of peppery tears 

To make thoughts of happy ever after?

Instead of writing tomorrow's vital shopping list

Imagining I'm dancing, hugged, loved, stroked and patted, petted, kissed

Hearing the hushed voices of all those I'm glad to know

Reciting, reading a crescendo of vivid colours of the rainbow

A poem's not a waste of precious ticking time

Maybe yours -  just the old ones, but never, none of mine

Mine fit me perfectly, like hand in glove

Cliches crossed out, new thoughts knitted neatly, spotlighting love

So I can sweetly sleep, dreaming of skies of perfect blue

And northern lights in arches and waves of vivid pink

My thoughts like happy pairs of bluebirds fly to you

Refreshing us like sipping shared, long, cool, coloured summer drinks.

-ends-

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