Showing posts with label wrinkles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wrinkles. Show all posts

Monday, July 13, 2026

My Left and Right. Comical Poem number 809 by prolific poet Angela Lansbury.

 


There's only one of unique me

But just a select few, that's you

Know the secret, strangest truth

Important parts of me share two


I have two hands, ten fingers, too

Ten toe nails, and toes on two feet. 

Gloves, shoes and socks, odd socks grew

Odd socks I hope will meet and greet


I have two eyes, and spectacles

I have two ears, and eary things

I have an awful lot of hair

Enough to scatter everywhere


Few fears and tears

One brain, high hopes, hectares of hair

Lots of wrinkles show many years

Some fading scars from fights with cars


One tummy, full

One busy, beating heart

But let me go back

To the thoughtful counting start


I need two gloves, I need two shoes

And pairs of socks enough to lose

Ang for my head many hats

My neighbour's cat breeds filling flats

Well, back to me, as you can see

There's only one of unique me

But fate has kindly granted two

Of my best parts, just like you

-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.

Saturday, May 9, 2026

Back To Bed - Mine's The Best. Comical poem 780 by Angela Lansbury


 


I lay half the day on my comfy bed

Better than a chair, my feet in the air

On my silk pillow case I lay my head

Supposed to smooth wrinkles, and soften hair


The mattress won't say which way I should lay

Nor when I rise or return, where to go

Sometimes it's lumpy, sometimes it's bumpy

When I need soft support, it seems to know.


A child likes to explore, learns to share, loan

'It's mine!', my own, familiar, feels 'at home'

I'm not Picasso nor Shakespeare

But I made this, it's mine, it's here


Your own bed, car, father, mother

Your own chair, house, or dress

It's everybody's favourite

'though you'd like more, your own's the best.

-ends-

Please share links to your favourite poems.


Sunday, July 28, 2024

On Growing Older comic poem 447 by Angela Lansbury


Author Angela Lansbury. Photo by Travor Sharot Copyright.

 They say, 'Age is just a number,'

But the number's getting bigger

The old proclaim, 'I still feel young!"

Youngster's excahange looks and snigger.


First your glare at growing wrinkles

Dye and try hide roots of grey hair

 Then you start to admit our age

You retire and you no longer care


At first you go for exercise

A daily swim or biking

Start with one walking stick or two

One's a brolly, two means hiking


Some refuse a walking stick

And defy the march of time

I'm glad when others fetch a chair

And swap their higher seat with mine


With Alzeimer's your brain is full

Why don't feet don't hide a spare head

Some folk when it's their time to go

Shrug and think they'll be better of dead


I want to live as long as I can

I've always been that way

But now I'm older I like eating pickles

So my tastes might change one day.. 


Growing old is really easy

It's staying alive is hard

But I cross the roads carefully

Dearing of the royal Well done car.

-ends-