All I want for Christmas is
World Peace
No Famine
No War
No Disease
An End to Violence and Misery
Goodwill to All Men
Goodwill to All Women
Goodwill to All Children
No Pain
No Suffering
Maltesers
I bet I get just one of these
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*
*
No-Fear Poetry
All I want for Christmas is
World Peace
No Famine
No War
No Disease
An End to Violence and Misery
Goodwill to All Men
Goodwill to All Women
Goodwill to All Children
No Pain
No Suffering
Maltesers
I bet I get just one of these
*
*
*
hsub
eht
ni oop
htrow si dnah
eht ni
drut
a
***
***
I wore white socks with black pants and black trainers
and Autocorrect decided I wore white dicks with black
pants and black trainers and I don’t know what to make of that.
*
*
*
the moustache has been plucked
for many a year
but it’s the first chin hair
that brings a tear
proof, if ‘twere needed
my youth has conceded
***
***
foxes in boxes
curse boxes
for foxes
dislike being put into boxes
whether cardboard or moving
band, juke or jack-in-the
letterboxes or chatter
snuff, tinder, or boom
lock boxes, lunch boxes
mail boxes, matchboxes
iceboxes, pill boxes
post, soap, or horseboxes
of course, the fox that you trapped
will without doubt pay you back:
bite your arm or your leg
your tum or your bum
infect you like dog bites
but fox bites are worse –
with raw chicken in the teeth
Mr Fox will dispatch you, despise you
out-cunning, out-wise you
and have the last laugh
as your last journey’ll be
in a box made to fit thee
***
***
.
A farmer on a cycle path
Fell off his bike, to his great wrath
A hidden camera set for laughs
Taped it for producer Kath
Next a robber took his phone
As he lay dazed, inclined to groan
Why’d I leave the house? he moaned
I really should have stayed at home
Kath came to apologise
The wire ‘cross the path weren’t wise
A happy ending did arise –
They fell in love, to their surprise
Now they live happily ever after
He tends his farm, for he’s a grafter
She won a Golden Globe and Bafta
And the farmer who incited laughter
***
***
They say that the Vesuvians
Are almost antediluvian
Buried as they are
Their gravesite just a scar
I think we all agree
Pompeii exists continually
So many people smothered –
Mothers/lovers/others –
By a mind-blowing eruption
Which caused peak interruption
To lives left undisturbed
They are history, preserved
***
The accepted date of the disastrous eruption has long been 24 August, 79AD. However, when researching the date, I came across this news item from the BBC, reporting on a possible later date in October. According to Wikipedia:
‘In October 2018, Italian archaeologists uncovered a charcoal inscription reading “the 16th day before the calends of November,” dated October 17 (of 79 AD as it was unlikely to have been a year old) which sets the earliest possible date for the eruption. A collaborative study in 2022 has determined a date of October 24–25.’
There was a study, collaborative, so I’m going with October.
Also, I’m preparing this on 17th January, 2023, and I like the symmetry.
***
***
Surely
in a way
every day
is world menopause day
for so many women suffer
one way or another
and never quite recover
becoming one big
hormonal mess
permanently
as
I
can attest.
***
Hello readers! Those of you still around, that is. Many apologies for my long absence: I have had my busiest-ever year and something had to give. Sorry that was you.
Welcome to my new subscribers! There are quite a few of you and I have you to thank for guilting me into posting something.
I am still in the middle of mad-busyness but I thought I’d try posting weekly, in the hope that one post a week will be manageable. Let’s see, eh?
I thought World Menopause Day was a good day to begin blogging again as – for those of you unaware – I am the author of Hormoanal: a lighthearted look at menopause and motherhood. Check out my page here for a couple of sample poems.
***
***
.
the hen
hates men
for the cock
likes to mock
listen to him now:
bawk-bawk-bawk
rattling on
complaining
always hensplaining
hear him go
her harem beau
he surely don’t know
his reigning role
is waning
she hopes
he’s soon
for the pot
she likes that
a lot
as jerk chicken
of course
as the delicious
main course
but it itches her loathing
whilst he’s decomposing
dry-rubbed
marinated
he’ll be tasty
so tasty
but also
unhated
***
***
***
.
You only ever need it
when you’ve left it on the bus
on the train
home in the cupboard
somewhere with no rain.
Don’t bother getting cross because
you know you’ll do it again
and again
and again.
***
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***