Comic Poems And Songs Are Serious Work (Comic poem 124) by Angela Lansbury

 

I'm trying to do some serious work (10 syllables)

I'm writing a comic poem (8 syllables)

I need to put my talents to good use (10 syllables) 

And not be universe owing (8 syllables)

I promised I'd write a poem each day (10 syllables)

I admit it looks like lying (8 syllables)

Not want of pay made me give up (10)

But no readers. I stopped trying (6)

Compare a poem to a bank account (10)

One might be earning you nothing (8)

But one's potential is a huge amount (10)

Which one is it? I'm still guessing (8)

I could be filing tax, or cook dinner (10)

Cooking's tiring, tax makes me faint (8)

By not writing, I'm a fraud, a sinner (10)

Wasting time, watching drying paint (8)

What's a real job? A doctor or a nurse (10)

 Replies depend on who you ask (8)

What's hard work? Telling jokes? Driving a hearse? 910)

We learn skills, practise, do a task (8)

Today I planned shopping - I made a list (10)

My excuse was it was raining (8)

My train and song spotting skills were not missed (10)

I'm retired, no-one's complaining (8)

I'm asked by life coaches and speech makers (10)

Why are you wasting precious time? (8)

Who are givers, takers, or waste makers? (10)

Artists, where do you draw the line? (8)

Would God say, I gave you another day (10)

What did you do? Threw it away? (8)

Write of your homeland, if you're a native (10)

Write of travels, be creative (8)

Youngsters fail, pretend to be amateurs (10)

Time and doubts pass, then words don't hurt (8)

Authors are word traders, entrepreneurs (10)

Now I'm old, so I'm an expert (8)

I wrote, sang my song, for baby, Ava, (10)

She's wide eyed, pays with a big smile (8)

"Mama, dada! Grandma! Hello - bye-bye!" (10)

I starred, centre stage, life's worthwhile! (8)

-ends-

Written Wednesday evening 30th March 2022.

Revised Thursday morning 31st March 2022.

Copyright Anela Lansbury

Community of the Retiree (Comic Poem 123) by Angela Lansbury

I don't live in a grand commune

But in a small community

Worldwide writers seeking readers

Facebook and blogs bring them to me

That little baby which I carried

Is now a father, newly-married

They hate advice; avoid dangers

So, instead I'll advise strangers

The smallest unit's when pregnant

Mother cum baby, you'll agree?

But suddenly when you give birth

Two turns into a harassed three

What can you do, what can you say

This Gran's on Zoom, too far away

Life's lonely in a silent room

Toothless smiles with waves make my day

Yes, your nearest help's your neighbours

I'm sure you've heard of this before

It's easy to make friends nearby

Start knocking on your neighbours' doors

Then when you're running from a fire

Or hear shrill alarm bells ringing

You can shout warnings as you pass

Even if you're bad at singing

I gave Chinese friends oranges

To celebrate Chinese New Year

Their food and fruit fed me a month

Of fruitless, lazy, living here

My recipe is, all grow fruit

Veggies and flowers in old boots

I find new use for broken pots, 

Save landfill from trash can what-nots 

We need to save small precious seeds

And think of Kiev, under siege

You never know what we might need

Nurture green talent in our liege

'Dig for victory', nuclear war

Britain's World Wars, and Singapore

Tsunami, hurricane, who knows

What weather, war or Covid blows

Then we'll be grateful, you will see

Each linked to our community

To prove we care, prepared to share

Mushrooms and fruits grown in old boots

Do you know Basil? I have thyme

To grow whatever suits this clime

Not green-fingered? Don't despair, a

Rampant as rabbits aloe vera

I've trouble keeping things alive

But ants, cockroaches, fruit flies thrive

The Chinese, on starvation bred

Eat crispy insects, live or dead

Eat oysters live, Maoris drink blood

Moths eat my clothes, everything's food

Ignore rules saying don't, or should

When starving, foreign food tastes good

So pray, whatever you believe

God, send good neighbours in my need

I gave them mushrooms, may they show

With tomato or potato

Thank you, it's free? I pounce with glee!

It's pale or stale? That's fine by me

Smile, water plants is what I do

Give thanks, advice, send words to you

If you've no fruit, send calories

In tins, plastic, bottles, wink, wink

You know, when pushed, I won't say no

Tap water, wine - 'reviving' drink

Think about it, and we'll agree

I'll give to you, you give to me

They can't tax friendship, sharing's free

Joyful retired community.

-ends- 

Green beer for St Patrick's Day.

Author's notes:

Dig for victory was a WW2 government slogan in the UK during rationing.

The Lost and Broken Umbrella Comic Poem 122 by Angela Lansbury

 Red, bent umbrella. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

I've lost my broken umbrella

I'm sure you are wondering why

I have lost my broken umbrella

I put it down wet, left it up to dry

Did I leave it in the restaurant?

Or leave it on the train?

The trouble with lost umbrellas is

You never find them again

I admit it was twisted and broken

I admit, like me, it was old and bent

I admit it didn't add to my status

But I still wonder where it went

But today I found an umbrella

Broken and stained and stuck

It was half on the grass, under a bush

Covered in leaves and muck

I can see why the owner left it

It's a nuisance to wash, as you see

Nobody would ever want it

Nobody else but me

Lost and broken umbrellas

Are everywhere on the ground

I lost one and I found one

Broken umbrellas, not round, but go round. 

-ends-

What can a baby do for you? Comic poem 121

What can a baby do for you?

It cannot talk, that much is true

It can wriggle, it can scream

And smile at some deep, hidden dream

Every new parent wonders why

A baby's first word's just a cry

One day, I hope it's not too late

A baby will communicate

A robot will say if it's happy

Hot or cold, please change my nappy

I'm tired, I am about to die

I'm cross - but have no idea why

I want to sleep

Please go away

I'd like a hug

But not today

I know you

I've seen you before

I like to throw things

On the floor

I like this milk

Now give me more

I do not like this lullaby

I love Mum but do not know why

I like Mum and I like Dad

I like Babygrows and mittens

I like milk and I like kittens

All in all, life isn't bad

I like lying on the floor

When I can walk I'll do much more

What is a spoon for, and a fork?

I can't wait to walk and talk!

-ends-

If today were my last day Comic Poem 120

 If today were my last day

What would the nosy neighbours say?

'Look  at that dress - look at that mess

We're all so glad she's gone away

'The dirty bins are overflowing

Strangling the flowers, weeds are growing

The bin men - they refused to call

So we're not sorry at all!'

That's why today I empty the bin

If someone calls, I can let them in

I've labelled keys to all the doors

Washed dishes, swept and hoovered floors

No worried thoughts entered my head

My only thought was, make the bed

All day I knew where I was heading

To make the bed with fresh, clean bedding

So if the Lord carries me away

I'm sure of what neighbours will say

A tidy house, an emptied bin!

That's why she would not let us in!

And when I'm gone, for days you'll see

The centipedes race round in glee

The weeds in triumph climb the bin

Until another soul moves in.

A lost gravestone, it ought to say

The way she lived 'til her last day

She wiped the dust, removed the rust

She's gone to some clean place we trust

She was a very careful soul

Did not have many issues

She would not want us crying

And throwing dirty tissues

We heard the noisy ambulance bell

Taking her off to heaven or hell

Ensuring she would not be late

For her date at the holy gate

Where every lazy woman and man

Lets her make heaven spic and span

We'll honour her, who passed away

And cleaned the house on her last day.

https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2022/02/if-today-were-my-last-day.htmlo

-ends-

I was wondering how many poems and posts I had written. I presumed on https://comicpoemsbynutter.blogspot.com/2022/02/if-today-were-my-last-day.htmloe poem per post and no post without a poem. I started numbering at the earliest date. After three, I was already tired. Then it struck me that the statistics page tells you how many posts you have written. today, Feb 18, 2022, the system tells me I have written 120 posts. That is more than enough for a book. 

When I have time I could go back and add the numbers. That is a quick way to identify poems. For example, to say that poem 1 has the same subject, dusting and cleaning, as poem 120. 

Why Is Hatch End So Famous?

Flooding in Hatch End. Photo from C J.
 

New Pictures from Piccadilly in Old London, England

Piccadilly provides many pleasures

Green scenes and architectural treasures

Tour old times, on top of a modern bus

Take brollies. If it rains, don't make a fuss

You can see the sights by the light of day

Or see sunsets and night life in the dark

I like to walk even on drizzly days

To read and photograph historic plaques

You can pedal around, take your own time

By hiring and handy red and green bike

The latest brand's name is the short word Lime

You can take any bike - just don't take mine!

When you're tired of wet shoes and hat and socks, 

When you're feeling tired, your body clock stops

Then it's time for you to take hot time out

With cold ice cream at the good old Hard Rock

If you walk or bike, feel sad and alone

Don't moan and bleed, about postcard price greed

Don't tell strangers about rain and life's knocks

Phone from the classy, glassy red phone box

Everyone at home thinks you're having fun

That all tourists enjoy eternal sun

That you're not tired when the day's fun is done

That you're the rich trav'ler, the lucky one

So call them all, call Billy, call Willy

Tell them all proudly that willy-nilly

At serious sights, or simply silly

You'll call them from famous Piccadilly

Before you smile and wave for your selfie

Or your blog, hello and goodbye today

Remember, on holiday, interrupt

Jealous friends worldwide, on their working day.

-ends-

Revised to ten syllable line count, by Angela Lansbury April 26th 2022.

Brolly is the British English short form for umbrella.