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a bird the colour
of cowardice saved mine lives
tweet irony
Canary
Tag Archives: Poem
Problem Page
Inspired by a real problem page Q&A
Dear Abby I’ve a problem
that I simply have to tell:
my finger in my belly
button gets a funny smell.
I hope that you can help me
for it leaves me quite unwell.
Dear Reader do you start each
day by falling out of bed?
The problem that is vexing
you is simply in your head.
Stop scratching at your belly
button: wash your hands instead.
Time and Motion
And now to lower the tone – a surprise, I know, for you didn’t realise there was a higher tone on this blog.
This poem is part of a collection called The Book of Pooetry. For more information see the page. No horrible images, I promise.
Toilet courtesy of Absolute Hair, Edgeley.
And here’s the poem to read for yourself, if you couldn’t believe what you were hearing:
Time and Motion
I’m always here
On the loo.
Diarrhoea?
It’s déjà poo.
A Dyson Map
The road to sell
is paved with good inventions.
Decorator of the Year
Once there’s more paint
on the ceiling than the floor,
less on me than the door,
my work here is done;
I’ll be artist no more.
He Tried
He watched the rugby
and knew that, for him,
the ball had been kicked
over the youth line.
Fun Poetry Fact #1
The longest poem ever written is called the Mahābhārata.
It has 200,000 lines and 1.8 million words. Bet my poems aren’t looking so tough now, are they, poetry haters? 🙂
You can read more about it on Wikipedia.
The shortest poem ever written might be one of mine: I have quite a few one-line poems; and even one with no words at all, just a title. As my good friend Ailie reminded me, British Poet Laureate Simon Armitage once said, ‘A poem is what I say it is.’
Of course, he’s the Poet Laureate and has published many collections, and I’m not and haven’t, so he can say that when I can’t, can’t he?
The principle stands, though, so my wordless poem is not just a title on a page, but a poem. Without words.
PC Speak
Orwell
Saw well
Vincent van Gogh
30/3/1853-29/7/1890
Vincent Willem van Gogh
Loved vivid blues and yellows
(or should that be yellogh?)
Chopped his ear off
In a dreadful huff
Didn’t feel enough
Cause: scornful rebuff
His head was sure a mess
At least, that’s what I guess
Since he died so long ago
You can say I just don’t know
How bad was his depression
This is merely my expression
Ergo: a post-impression
Les Miserables, The Movie
It is worth watching
if you don’t mind cringing
through Russell Crowe’s ‘singing’.
Poetry Fluff 