Posts Tagged ‘Humour’


The title doesn’t really match the poem – or does it?

It feels like spring with spells of sun
and clouds so soft that bring delight,
fifteen degrees – not bad for March –
or fifty nine in Fahrenheit.
The birdies chatter endlessly
telling each other
but not


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Vegetable salad

Rather a basic western menu from a chef of ill repute. The bamboo one is a bit devious

Claustrophobic carrots sighing
as they leave the soil
Peas that plead to simmer when
the water wants to boil
Potatoes that must shiver when the
knife descend to peel
Cabbages that when undressed a
coldness surely feel
Runner beans that grow new legs when
they are chopped to size
Bamboo shoots that almost always
end in painful cries
Onion layers that quiver when they
sense it’s time to part
Vegetable quandaries hereby
served up à la carte.

Perhaps you’re stimulated to add your own (even more exotic :-)) double set of ingredients? If so, let me know.

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The Theater of the Absurd is less than half full.
The presenter of tonight’s show walks onto the stage – a rotund gentleman of uneasy gait.

‘Good evening ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to our cold, heartless theater and the new show. We have an impressive group of artists to perform for you tonight, I hope you’ll agree.’ (more…)

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My face is full of yummy
my mouth is almost too
and Mummy’s looking angry
with hints of love it’s true.

Brown fingers on the sofa
and hands upon the wall,
the carpet, and that thingy
whose name I can’t recall.

I saw it when I looked up
I reached out on tip toe
My fingers grasped its bottom
The rest I guess you know.

The jar is now half empty
I stare into her eyes
I smile to hide those feelings
She shakes her head and sighs.

I dip my finger into
that soft sweet yummy yum.
It may just be the last time
I get some in my tum.

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A sexton is a bell-ringer and general odd job man around the church if my Oxford Dictionary really knows anything about the subject. I hope they all have a fruitful life and can later pull in a good pension.
This piece has really nothing to do with sex or sextons – well not directly anyway – but I felt in a naughty mood and wanted to see how many readers would be drawn to my boudoir with the word blazoned in the heading to light up expectant eyes and attract those of a curious bent. I won’t get to find out who you are, of course, but the numbers should get pumped up somewhat. I realize this may work against me but what the hell have I got to lose. (more…)

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Garden of dreams

It was pleasant in that garden
where the gnomes all stand in rows
but now though it rains most fry days
not a sausage ever grows.

Two old wizened trees are standing
with their trunks now at half-mast,
creepers pulling them down slowly
to reveal what still holds fast.

There’s a greenhouse brown and aging,
thankful to be free from pane.
No more hammering and howling
from the storms with hail and rain.

Earth is crumbled, gray and failing,
yearning for the roots of old,
leaves of those it still remembers
tempering the heat and cold.

Look! There sits the owner snoozing
in the afternoon sunlight,
perhaps dreaming how things might be
in a gardener’s delight.

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I read in the following headline in a local newspaper:
“One-legged man steals one shoe”
This took place in Belgium, apparently. The man and his wife were both over sixty years old, Russian, and destitute. In the circumstances no further action was taken by the police and they were released. Whether or not the man was allowed to keep his new shoe wasn’t reported.
While not wanting to rub salt into anyone’s wound it does make one think.

I came up with following headlines:

“One-armed man caught robbing a one-armed bandit”
“One-eyed man injured while winking at girl”
“Lawyer cross-examines cross-eyed witness”
“One-legged detainee makes a dash for freedom”
“Father in wheelchair stands up for his son’s innocence”
“Light-fingered suspect gets heavy sentence”
“Bald fugitive escapes capture by a hair’s breadth”
“Car crash victim drives his case home”
“Sailor’s plea thrown overboard by judge”
“Gardener planted false evidence to incriminate owner”
“Astronaut found guilty of parking in protected space”
“Doctor should have been more patient”

Please give me a few more if you’re so inclined.

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Sensual organs

I’ve got a nose for business
Which I keep in a jar
I take it out when things get tough
Or approach the bizarre
It sits there on my office desk
And gets strange looks from those
Who wonder what it’s doing there
Sporting a turned up pose

I’ve got an ear for music
Which I keep in a jar
It inclines more to Bach and Brahms
Than twangings of guitar
It sits there next to CDs of
Santana and Pink Floyd
And when I play those very loud
It’s closed and most annoyed

I’ve got an eye for beauty
Which I keep in a jar
It doesn’t look at Auntie Jane
But sees you from afar
It sits there by the window pane
Staring around to view
The wonders born of Nature’s heart
That capture it anew.

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Head count

Mister Mills has half a brain
His wife one owned by few
But even they have less than half
We’d need for five point two
Now if you have a normal brain
And your loved one has too
Then with my own we might just reach
The sum of five point two
‘Why five point two?’ I hear you say
‘Why not just make it five?’
But that would spoil this little rhyme
I’ve worked hard to contrive.

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