Poetry to make you smile and maybe laugh

Oh the world is so terrible cold and cruel
No-one loves me I’m so sad
The trees laugh in contemptuous scorn
Blood red sunrise through sky is torn.

The drip drip drip of tears on my socks
I might as well be dead and gone
Lightning strikes as if in pain
The sky is crying disguised as rain.

Why am I?
What am I?
Why do I care?
Perhaps I’d feel better if I bleached my hair?

Maybe I’d be happier with tattooed knees?
Or tried to make a tune each time I sneeze?
Or just start a circus of well trained fleas?
Or carved my likeness out of cheese?
Or just stopped rhyming things with ease?
Someone stop me. Help me – Please!!!
I’m tempted to write a line that ends with squeeze.

But I won’t.

yet another poem protected by copyright law that probably doesn't need it.

If you are looking for 'serious' poems that may be interesting to someone of an emo-oriented personality you might like to investigate my serious poetry blog here.

I’m fairly easy going me, ask anyone who knows,
Not the sort with temper quick that any time might blow.
But I admit that niggles get underneath my skin
And wriggle about ‘til I want to shout – although I keep it in.

Here’s a particular niggle that got me yesterday.
I’d done my weekly shopping which cost a monthly pay.
I select my stuff with cared concern and read the tiny print,
For numbers E there’d better not be even the slightest hint.

According to my usual ways, my groceries were bought
No nasties lurking in the pile of an unhealthy sort.
I bought a load of rice cakes because as you must know
these ricy treats are devoid of wheat and their calories are low.

I tend to buy organic, wherever I possibly can
And where available Fair Trade too, to aid my fellow man.
But despite my best endeavours they got me – I was had
By a packaging con my eye lit upon, and that’s why I’m feeling mad.

There upon the packet in a friendly looking type
I read the words incorrectly and got caught up in the hype.
I should have read it slowly, in part it is my fault
I went and bought a packet saying ‘Without Sea Salt’!!!

Now I try not to be pedantic or anything like that
But when you say that kind of thing why not say
‘Without a bowler hat’?
‘Without the very best banana you can buy’
‘without a magic powder that enables you to fly’?
‘Without a golden slipper or a baby kangaroo’?
or ‘Without Jam made of mangoes’ or ‘without elephant poo’?

The list could go forever so I won’t go on in this bent.
Perhaps you’d like to add your own ‘Without’ in the bit where people comment?

Just let your imagination go where the ad men’s do
And list what you’d like to go without, I‘d love to hear from you.

Copyright protected - but links are welcome.

Where does the wind blow?

It called to me and I had to go.
One of those things - it just happens y'know?
Where does the wind blow
and why does it sing?
Where does the wind blow
and what will it bring?

We've heard it call a hundred times
can't make out the words
but we know that it rhymes.
Where does the wind blow
and why does it sing?
Where does the wind blow
and what will it bring?

Float on the stream and out to the sea
It's calling to you and it's talking to me
Where does the wind blow
and what does it sing?
Where does the wind blow
and what will it bring?

copyright protected bla bla bla Yeah like you wanted it right?

edited on the 28th July 2009 to add the MP3 of me singing the song.

The nasty wind the nasty wind
It makes me scream and shout.
I hate it when its stuck inside
But I hate to let it out.

The nasty wind, the nasty wind
It makes my face turn red
And keeps me wide awake
when I should be asleep instead.

The nasty wind, the nasty wind,
I don’t like it at all.
How come I get such big wind,
When I’m so very small?

The nasty wind, the nasty wind
It fills me full of pain
And every night from 7 til 9
That wind returns again

The nasty wind, the nasty wind,
I don’t like it at all
How come I get such big wind,
When I’m so very small?

Copyright protected

I am superstitious although it is bad luck
I worry about breaking mirrors
And spit when I see a duck
Well actually it’s a Magpie but that doesn’t rhyme.

copyright protected although it hardly needs it as its crap anyway.

I have a neighbour who shouts at me
He isn’t very kind
He’s done a lot of nasty things
I think he’s lost his mind.

He watches when I leave the house
Puts nails down for my tires
He talks to people about my family
Tells them we’re all liars.

So I bought a thing or two
Put them up with glee
And the next time he swore and threatened
He was on CCTV!

The police had to take action
They couldn’t walk away
They gave him a fixed penalty notice
And he had to pay.

But it’s still a nuisance
I’m still feeling sad
As long as I live next door
To someone who is bad.

But it could be so much worse
Think of this instead
At least I only live next door
He lives inside his head!!

This poem is copyright protected and must always be attributed to this blog

Tinkering with the ivories – or why I’m not a dentist.

When I was young and still a virgin
I started to train as a dental surgeon.
I was full of eager plans
To ease the pain of my fellow man.

The first year being mainly theory
I quite enjoyed and was quite cheery.
The second year was my stumbling block
I’ll tell it you now, but please don’t mock.

I came to meet upon one day
A frail old lady – hair of grey
She lisped to me and asked me ‘pleeth,
Provide for me a thet of teeth’

Many years had passed since her face had a tooth
her gums had receded along with her youth.
There was hardly a ridge left upon which to base
A new set of gnashers to furnish her face.

She needed techniques very complex and long
Of the sort one would hope to be gloried in song.
So I rolled up my sleeves and engaged in the work
Necessary to give her a shiny new smirk.

Many appointments came and went
My back was to my object bent
Each tiny adjustment was made with her nod
They had to be perfect as if made by God.

Tears and sweat and time were spilled
At last the plastic gums were filled
With perfect porcelain works of art
Placed and chosen with all my heart.

That her teeth weren’t natural you couldn’t tell
As I gazed upon them my pride full swell
The daughter she’d brought for the very first time
Poured forth her wisdom to opine.

‘Oh Mum, I think they’re a little too yellow’
Says Mum ‘Oh yes, what d’you think young fellow?’
I tried to remind her we’d chosen the hue
To reflect on her age – after all she ain’t new.

But the daughter held firm – she’d have gone on all night
‘If she’s having new teeth – they ought to be white’
Along came my tutor observing my pout,
Held the teeth towards me and said ‘Grind them out’

‘Use them as trays to take new impressions,
start all over again, book her in for more sessions’
Instead of beginning all over again
I decided I was sick of my fellow men.

If they had pain – then that was tough,
Someone else could help them
I’d had enough.

This poem is copyright protected and must always be attributed to this blog