Poetry to make you smile and maybe laugh

At the local school reunion,
after many years apart,
attending was the old head girl
and the old school ‘tart’.

They air kissed
as they met again.
Said "you haven’t changed a bit!"
The ‘tart’ turned up
in her old black mini
into which she’d squeezed to fit!

Getting it to fit
took a certain knack,
She’d had to slide the seats right back.

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Where to begin,
oh where to begin,
the story of parents
Mair and Gwyn?

They started out
with love and laughter,
But went on to
live snappily ever after.

To see it with
outsiders eyes
they should have tried
to compromise.

But from the day
that they were wed
they were pitted
head to head.

Neither one
capitulating
finding it first
quite stimulating.

Sniping and backbiting
seemed a game,
at least until
the children came.

Discouraging words
were often spoken.
Hearts and promises
often broken.

The children’s needs
were simply lost.
Parents heedless
of the final cost.

If they meant at all
then they meant well,
they didn’t intend
this bickering hell.

How to mend it –
Father, Mother-
When all you do
is blame each other?

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Six foot four and weighs a ton,
broke the parallel bars.
If you're in his way its best to move
for Samuel Dan Delarre.

Fifteen years - almost a man
but dreaming like a boy.
Control is hard sometimes he fails
not meaning to annoy.

Stuck it through the Maths exam
he always was a trier.
But spoiled it in the end though amusing his friends
by setting his paper on fire.

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Mr BadShock crashes in
black bristles on his crumpled chin,
a million frown lines on his face.
He screams at us
to "Sit In Place!"

Whisper low if you dare
his ears pick sound up
everywhere.
"Shut Up Child!"
is his battle cry.
A pen the missile
he lets fly.

Mr BadShock frightens me
and everybody in 4B.
Our only hope and deep desire,
Is that he's planning to retire.

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I’m sorry I bit Mrs Threadgold
It’s not a thing I’d do twice.
Quite apart from the fact that I won’t get the chance
She didn’t taste very nice.

This poetry is protected by copyright - and must always be attributed to this blog.

My name’s Cinderella, my mates call me Cin
I’m fashionably scruffy and trendily thin.
I’ve got gorgeous skin (it’s so good to be young)
a stud in my nose and one more on my tongue

Don’t want a boyfriend, there’s no tying me down
I want a career not a castle and crown.
I’ll tell you my story, go on, take a chair
It’s worth hearing trust me.
I know, I was there.

I was in the kitchen alone late at night
When a noise from the scullery gave me a fright.
I opened the door and saw in that room
An ancient old hag speaking out of the gloom.

‘I ‘m your fairy godmother’. Yes, it was she
walking into the kitchen and talking to me.
‘I have come to make sure that you go to the ball’
and she waggled her wand at a hole in the wall.

She waggled it once, then waggled it twice
Sniffed and said sharply ‘There ought to be mice’.
‘Mice in this kitchen?’ said I ’ No chance. No way.
This kitchen’s so clean even germs keep at bay!’

‘oh never mind I’ll improve on your clothes
and I’ll soon heal up that thing with your nose.
Highlights in your hair and a few well placed curls.
Should result in you looking the cutest of girls.’

‘Excuse me! Whatever? Do I count at all?
No-one’s asked me if I want to go to this ball.’
‘But the prince will be there to make you his bride.’
‘Stay there while I run to Bermuda to hide’.

‘But I don’t understand, I’ve been thrown for a loop.
I brought this great pumpkin’
‘Great make pumpkin soup’
‘I had planned glass slippers, silk gloves and a hat’
‘I’d rather be dead than be seen wearing that.’

Well after a talk she at last saw the light
As *F. godmothers go she wasn’t too bright
I suggested she watch some cable t.v.
then took her to concerts and clubbing with me.

F.G ditched her wings and got a jet
Lost lots of weight but better yet,
She got a boyfriend - name of Vince.
Yup, you guessed it. He’s the Prince.

Princey’s happy with dear F.G.
I’m ecstatic just being me.

*F stands for fairy and G stands for godmother.

This poetry is protected by copyright - and must always be attributed to this blog.