The Dolls' Clothes comical poem 619 by Angela Lansbury

Dolls' wardrobe. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright. 

I bought a doll with long, blonde hair

A comb, blue eyes,  a tiny nose

Then found it pretty clothes to wear

A turquoise wardrobe housed the clothes

Silver tiaras, scarves and hats

Hidden in drawers in the box

High heeled shoes, sandals, baseball caps

Small mittens, hangers, little socks

Sparkling lace tops, fancy long skirts

Children can spend hours sorting clothes

Red white and blue shorts matched tee shirts

As granny busy with meals knows

She's the grandchild who I adore

But when she left I'm shocked to find

Dolls clothes scattered on the floor

No use pretending I don't mind

At four years old she understands

You put your bricks back in the box

No-one else touches it, 'It's MINE!'

You fight the world with keys in locks

Next time she comes around to play

I'll set my watch to give a warning

Before you leave, tidy away

So enlightenment is dawning

Remember Cinderella's shoe

The moral's clear to me and you

That rushing off will never do

An old adaage which is still true.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems on my blog posts with your friends.

Revenge Against Lost Socks comic poem 408 by Angela Lansbury

Matching socks. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

 Each day the mystery unlocks

The secret revenge of the socks

Like truants playing hide and seek

I search and gloat, Found! made my week!

I once had an unmatched socks box

Hidden from husband, under locks

One found when I at last washed sheets

Perhaps kicked off from hot night feet

Folded up pairs made my shelves neat

A dating sock, would like to meet\\

One with a hole was used to dust

I'll darn that hole, looks new  - I trust

Where were they lost? Where are they found?

I checked the floor, proudly lsoked round

Behind the basin, bedhead, floor

Behind the door,, the radiator!

Some fell behind a washing machine

Are socks victims, or are they mean?

Last night I found a pair - put back!

Daylight showed  navy with black!

One discarded - it had a hole

Now I darn holes, to save their soul

Yes soles, some are designed with pads

Pretending they are shoes, quite mad

To balance out my lost sock counts

Which hop and leap in large amounts

Today I have some feel good news

I found a lost sock in my shoes

I celebrate this single match

Which helps clear up the lost sock patch

And I've made order in my mess

Whe one small joyful sock success

The question is, that pefect pair,

Is it something I dare to wear?

Should I save it for tomrrow

Warding off a Thursday sorrow?

Let tomorrow pay its own way

I'll say it once and have my say

I celebrate joyful today

I wear a matching pair, hurray!

By catching a pair in that box

A treasure hunt of lost-found socks.

To help you, too, face today's knocks

Good news, I've paired my pair of socks.

-ends-

How do you edit a poem? I go back and count syllables. Classic ballads alternate laaaaaaangths, such as eight and seven or seven then six syllables, or six and five or five and four and so on. 

 It's often easier to add, making all up to eight syllables if you have just one odd line

But somtimes cutting is easy.

. For example, I changed I used to have wich is four syllables to I once had and it is back to three.

Please share links to your favourite poems with your favourite friends.

Nothing To Wear comic poem 340 by Angela Lansbury

Drawers full of clothes. Photo by Angela Lansbury.
 

I do not have a thing to wear

I've loads of clothes like uncombed hair

I've silk which does not go with leather

And jeans which do not go with feathers

I've boots although it's hot outside

A missing button, or a stain

I've lots of stuff, too much to hide

Broken umbrellas for the rain

My new top is a size too small

I can't do its zip up at all

And most of the elastic's gone

One dress too short and one too long

I ought to sell what I don't need

But selling's such a dirty deed

An empty shelf? Destroyed! Not freed!

An empty shelf need socks like seeds

Although the bedroom looks like hell

Looking at it makes me unwell

I hunt and sort, but truth to tell

I cannot find one thing to sell.

I cannot throw a thing away

I know selling should start today

What I'd ask is too much to pay

And so the whole lot has to stay.

What do you wear, I hear you say

I cannot make a decision

So I've found a good solution

I wear the same dress every day.

-ends-