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My current favourite genre is Young Adult Fantasy: vampires/angels/werewolves/fairies
(the Fae, I ought to say).
I am immersed in non-reality.

These books have me entrapped, spellbound.
It’s a craving I cannot seem to quell.
I’m fifty-three – this has to be some sort of anomaly.

Please, I beg you, please:
throw me a chick lit text, a comic, a cartoon strip,
literature not covered in any degree
and set me free.


I feel honour-bound to tell you that, actually, I feel no shame in reading any of the above-mentioned genres. I completed a degree in Literature and didn’t read for pleasure for years afterwards, so tired as I was of reading for study. So called ‘lowbrow’ books restored the joy; and I receive eight cartoons in my inbox every day, because I like to start the day with a laugh.

ducks in the park

Please note: this one is probably better viewed on a computer than a phone.



                                          there are ducks

                                         in the park   there

                            are ducks   on the ponds   

                                         watch for ducks in the dark

                                             they will not be your friend    

                                                               for they like

                                                                  to have a
                             nibble   and they like to take a bite  and those ducks will  
                       never quibble even though you’ve greater height     for ducks are nuts
                    for legs and butts      and even overhanging guts   so they hide   in the
                        dark   they prefer the parks at night   when they slyly ninja-shark  

                             your frame   and take a light night-bite   so watch your
                                     back   I’m not a quack    I promise that   to every duck

                                           tucked in the park   masked in the dark

                                                               you must deduct

                                                                   you         are

                                                            a late         night snack.

This is what’s known as a concrete poem, because it takes a form similar to what is described.

I LOVE writing concrete poems; they are challenging but fun.

girls that dont shave

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irish women don’t shave
welding women don’t shave
freak americans don’t shave

hairy women armpits
bushy sweaty arm pits
kerala housewife armpits

air in armpits, girls


Bloggers, have you ever looked at the search terms that find your blog? I used to mine the search terms that found my Laughing Housewife blog for amusing posts, but I turned these particular – and genuine, missing apostrophe and all – search terms into what’s known as a found poem. A found poem is exactly what it sounds like; a poem made up of words the poet has found. Very easy to write! Anyone can do it, because the words are there (wherever you’re looking); you just have to put them together.

I think these particular search terms found The Laughing Housewife because I used to blog about hair a lot – usually my own; sometimes, Julia Roberts’. I took ‘write about what you know’ to extreme lengths, if I’m honest 😉

Snow Lesson

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Watermelon snow
is reddish pink,
don’t’ya know.

I’m saying, No! Don’t
eat yellow snow.

Crud is only good
for expert skiers;
it’s impossible and impassable
for their lesser-skilled peers.

Graupel melts
something awful.
Also known as corn snow,
it is coarse and tends to freeze-thaw.
Need I say more?

Snirt will
make your
insides hurt.

Hush, hush –
I’ll say nothing of slush.

I could go on,
but there’s the sun.


There are a surprising number of snow types. Read more here.

Telling It Like It Is

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Don’t call me nesh
for my gooseflesh –
it’s nature’s skin
aka horripilation.


From Google:

the erection of hairs on the skin due to cold, fear, or excitement.
“a horripilation of dread tingled down my spine”

Shakespeare Clerihew

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William Shakespeare
Strikes dreadful fear
Into many a scholar’s head;
And Anne got his second-best bed.

From Wikipedia

A clerihew is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The first line is the name of the poem’s subject, usually a famous person put in an absurd light, or revealing something unknown or spurious about them. The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes are often forced. The line length and metre are irregular. Bentley invented the clerihew in school and then popularized it in books. One of his best known is this (1905):

Sir Christopher Wren
Said, “I am going to dine with some men.
If anyone calls
Say I am designing St. Paul’s.”

I’ll be honest: I prefer a regular rhythm, but that’s me – regular in rhythm though not in character.

Alternative Medicine

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A haiku a day
keeps the doctor away.
Unless a bus hits you.

A haiku is a three-line/17-syllable poem about nature. Technically, this is a senryu, which has the same structure as a haiku but is about the nature of humankind, but ‘A senryu a day’ has an extra syllable and the rhythm is off.

The great thing about writing poetry is that I get to say, ‘Yeah, but…’ whenever the rules get in the way 🙂

So many ‘buts’ in my writing…

Pride & Prejudice

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Woman and

This form is known as piku: a cross between the haiku form and the first three numbers of pi, so that the three-line syllable count is 3/1/4.

The skill is to convey the meaning in eight syllables in total; for this poem to work, I have to assume every reader is familiar with the plot of Pride and Prejudice.

Don’t let me down.

You Know Her

Una Stubbs dead: Worzel Gummidge, Sherlock and EastEnders legend dies at  home at 84 | Celebrity News | Showbiz & TV | Express.co.uk

One for British readers of a certain age

Una Stubbs, 1/5/1937-12/8/2021

Aunt Sally – stubbed out
Worzel cried, no doubt

The primary purpose of this blog is to bring a daily smile to readers’ faces, but I also hope to encourage poetry loathers to learn a little something along the way, so that their hatred and/or fear of poetry might be reduced.

In that spirit, this is an ideal opportunity to share something of my writing process. I say my process, because it is different for every writer. For me, short poems like this seldom start out that way. Here’s the second draft of this poem (the version published above is draft three):

Hands on our collective hearts
we loved Ms Una till death did us part.
Is she not familiar to you? I’ll give you a clue:
she was Sherlock’s Mrs Hudson
who reduced his rent
when because of Holmes
her man to prison went.

She was heaven-sent as spiteful Aunt Sally,
greedy for cake, cruel to her beau
that silly scarecrow Worzel Gummidge
who, no doubt, when Una was stubbed out,
cried at the news. I did. Did you?

It’s wordy and rambling and the rhyme and rhythm is off, and not in a good way. My intention was to include some of the TV shows for which the beloved actress Una Stubbs was famous (see below), but as I looked over the poem I knew what it needed to be was pithy: this is an epitaph, which should be short. I took the pun I liked (it may be an epitaph but it doesn’t have to be serious) and reduced the whole to two lines.

A common piece of writing advice (ascribed to several authors) is to ‘kill your darlings’. That is, remove unnecessary plots/characters/lines, whatever genre you write in. It is advice I usually adhere to in poetry. Though not in prose, when I ramble on forever, long after the reader has left me to my wittering.

Hello? Anyone there?

Tributes as TV star Una Stubbs dies aged 84 - YorkshireLive

Give Us A Clue


Till Death Us Do Part

Worzel Gummidge