Displaying posts categorized under

Fun Poems

Poem: Dawn Chorus.

Dawn Chorus. . . Each morning as the sun comes up The birds all greet it with a song . A morning chorus we all say But I’ve decided we are wrong . ‘Cos birds don’t want to wake at dawn This early rising makes them moan . And what they’re really shouting is ‘Fuck […]

Poem: It’s A Bloody Good Job I Love You.

It’s A Bloody Good Job I Love You. . . You are not a proper pet You won’t do anything you’re told You never fetch things when I ask You’re bloody feet are always cold. . You’re totally immune to rules You leave a mess each place you go And when I tell my mum […]

Poem: Hot To Trot.

Hot To Trot. . . Are you a robot Or what. Would any special trick I’ve got Turn you on to me Or not. .

Poem: Bloody Paparazzi.

. . . “Who the hell is that?” Is what they think now When they see their photograph. Inside, they still feel the same, So it is quite a shock sometimes. To see a human tortoise Gurning for the camera. It positively explains The dislike of the old For unauthorised photographs Taken by family paparazzi. […]

Poem: Downtime.

Downtime. . . There is a lot of preparation, Planning, and the making of lists Involved in the production Of a full blown dinner party With signature dishes And carefully matched wines, But sometimes, to be truthful, I would just as soon give it a miss And make do with a nice banana . . […]

Poem: Need An Inconvenient Pee.

Need An Inconvenient Pee. . . You are warm within the bedclothes But you sorely need a pee You wish that you could stay there But it is not meant to be. . .

Poem: Flybaby.

Flybaby. . . Would I give up my arms If the trade meant that I Could make like a bird And have wings that could fly. . .

Poem: Let’s Get Rid Of Planes.

Let’s Get Rid Of Planes. . . Airlines are not green at all Their pollution’s in the red, If you can fly on wings of song Let’s just do that instead. . .

Poem: What Sort Of Guard Dog Are You Then?

What sort Of Guard Dog Are You Then? . . Go buy a guard dog people said ‘Cos it’s not good to live alone, But you won’t even bloody bark Unless I throw your squeaky bone. . When strangers knock, you rush to play, You lick the people in the park, But I was truly […]

Poem: The Waiting Game.

The Waiting Game. . . Spontaneity adds ease To the social experience, It is an extended waiting time That leaches away the pleasure. . .