Poetry to make you smile and maybe laugh

Winter: Christmas time
the search for perfect presents
occupied the Japanese.

"Buy poodles as pets"
baaad men said while pulling
wool over their eyes.

But Snopes debunked this
story/truth was no sheep were
shaved in forming this lamb's tale.

A friend of mine has got a wonderful book all about two children growing up in South Africa - on a website I sometimes knock about on - http://www.authonomy.com - there is a bit of a ding dong going on there at the mo as various books slug it out to be chosen to get an editor from Harper Collins to read and review their book.

My friend has managed to get into fourth place (the first five get picked) but he is teetering for one reason and another and may lose his spot - and he has been trying for this for ages and his book "The Little Girl in a Fig Tree" is one of the best things I've ever read. There is a touch of the To Kill a Mockingbird flavour about the children who he has based on his daughter and himself as a little boy.

Here's the link to it - http://www.authonomy.com/ViewBook.aspx?bookid=2254

So please go and have a look at his book - and if you like it - and I'm sure you will - please join the website (which is free and I trust them with my personal details) and vote for Pierre Van Rooyen's lovely book.

Summer - 2 men and a bridge/
One man plans to jump/
One man bridges thought to deed.

This story made me smile. I told you I was in a mean mood in the previous poem

The sky is blue as searing pain
the clouds are laughing lies
the sun burns on behind my back
and birds are devil spies.

Breakfast is dust between my teeth
coffee molten lead
I didn't get a good night's sleep
and wish that I were dead.

I hate my mattress.

This poem has a subtitle - not a title.
And yes - today this is how I feel
Everyone better watch out

Here's me in a mean mood!

I entered the contest and gathered support
did all the things a competitor ought
but the system was not as robust as I thought
and so I've withdrawn from the race.

I had lots of votes and got up to 7th place
which put a smug grin on my silly poet face
but decided to withdraw and show good grace
when the system collapsed 'neath the strain.

So I'd just like to say to all my web friends
it's about how you play not about how it ends
and the message that this little interlude sends
is I'm lucky to have you as pals.

Thank you for your support of me on the MS TwitterWall contest, it has been much appreciated - for further details about my withdrawal from the contest please see my blog post on my personal blog - http://banana.blog.o.uk

Is Her Majesty's Revenue & Customs Bankrupt?

The Taxman owes me money
I think it is a lot
well it is for me
especially as it's money I ain't got.

Now four hundred pounds
may seem like not so much
compared with all the thousands
claimed by Blears and such.

I haven't lived in blighty
for over a year and a half
so holding onto my money
seems like they're having
a bit of a laugh.

I've been hearing excuses
from them
and filled in all their forms
but their failure to comply with
their own rules,
is even worse than the norm.

The latest info from them
was that they'd give me a call
within 48 hours (that was Wednesday)
but I haven't heard back from them at all

If I call them to find out
what the heck they're playing at
it'll cost me an arm and a leg
on the phone
and I just can't afford that.

So I'm just a little worried
and having a little cry
That HMRC cannot pay me
Cos the MPs have sucked it dry!

So are Her Majesty's coffers
filled with naught but dust
have those politicians
sent UK's Tax man bust?

Make my Day

I don't go in for competitions
not usually fun
But then there was a little
tempting interesting one...

It is called Ms TwitterWorld
& I've gone and went and looked
and then I went & entered it
& now I'm sort of hooked.

I just think it would be funny
if silly little me
was able to win this contest
in the name of poetry!

If I could beat the celebs
and all the pretty girls
and strike a blow for poetry
and be Ms TwitterWorld!

So if you want to make my day
and support my poetry
pop along to the Tweeter Wall
and cast a vote for me.

Here's the link
(link deleted)
if you wouldn't mind
put banana_the_poet in the search box
then click on my plus to be kind.

I'm off to bed perchance to dream
of a glorious victory
it would be fun,
to ace this one
and win for poetry

PS you can repeat vote every 20 minutes if the fancy takes you. No requirement to register with Twitter.

updated 24th May - banana_the_poet withdrawn from contest and so link removed accordingly.

A Link is a Gift your Blog Makes.
To be sung to tune of A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Disney.

A link is a gift your blog makes
don't value them too cheap.
Each click that your visitors make
can make money the linkees can keep.

Be true with your links and someday
this fact will come shining through:
No matter which post of yours they're reading
they'll know your links are always leading
to content that's safe to click to.

Inspired on reading someone's blog post that included links to spammers. I always check links before including them and endeavour to ensure that any link within any blog post of mine must be entertaining and only link to a reputable site or content. Sadly people who do not take the same amount of care can lead their readers into stormy waters. Every click is potentially a money spinner to someone, and potentially a pain in the backside to someone else, so I prefer to err on the side of caution. I only give presents to people I respect and trust.

Unexpected.

There is an MP not on the take
not out for whatever
dosh she can make
who tries to do the job well
for which she was elected
I don't know about you
but I find that unexpected.

Laura Moffatt, the Labour MP for Crawley in West Sussex who gave up her rented flat in favour of a camp bed in her House of Commons Office because she "believed it is wrong for public servants to make money out of the public purse and I do not defend anyone who does so."

Antoinette Pork-Bottomley MP take note, the days of profligate expenses driven politicians are numbered!

I had a dream - for more details please read my post 'Picture yourself on a boat on a river' where you will find out how William Shatner or 'Bill' as he asked me to call him in my dream, resurfaced my local beach amongst other strange happenings.

But it got me to wondering...

If William Shatner was amenable to reading my poetry which ones would best suit his myriad and undeniable skills?

So I am enlisting the help of my 'silly poetry' reading public (while also demonstrating how correct punctuation saves a writer from potentially insulting her readers) to ask you to please suggest which of my poems you would LIKE to hear read by Mr Shatner and whether or not you would like him to read it as Bill, or Captain Kirk, Admiral Kirk, Denny Crane, TJ Hooker or any other of his many wondrous personas.

I ought to work out how to do a poll really.

After I've done the washing up and other domestic tasks I shall apply myself to that task.

The truth according to banana.

Enferblement enwashes us in trittling conflabution
denarbing all tortillions in a murgled tabulation.
Durfed, entrouffled, slimned within its orbitrale
swargled deftly ondign yet fully consequale.

My first attempt at one of these was after listening to a radio four program, can't remember which - probably I'm Sorry I haven't a Clue, and they gave the first two lines for listeners to finish off.

An amateur gardener from Bude
Developed a cactus quite lewd (the beginning)

He went in to inspect 'em
tripped over and wrecked 'em,
and much foul language ensued. (my ending)

Yesterday I wrote this one:

A man on his hols in Peru
thought he'd found a sweet petting zoo.
But the hamsters inside
ended up fried
because in Peru that's what they do.

and this also on the subject of cactus:

Don't ever buy a cactus
with the aim of trying to attract us,
cactii are too sharp
while we don't mean to carp
a cactus won't positively impact us.

"Normal" service will resume in a few days.

A Husband's Complaint.

Don't you know I love you?
Don't you know I care?
How can that be diminished in any way
because I'm in your underwear?

You said you'd be out all afternoon
you'd be gone 'til after tea
I thought I had your wardrobe all to myself
In total privacy.

I do this very rarely
when I'm feeling rather stressed
for some reason
I don't feel half so cross
when I am cross dressed.

Expense claim from Marie-Antoinette Pork-Bottomley MP

It is of beauty sans compare,
to excite and delight the senses
sod claiming moats and underwear,
put this on my expenses!!

MP = Many Perks

I'm going to be an MP
it's the perfect job for me
except filling lots of forms
isn't really my cup of tea

So I need a secretary
with proficient typing skills
to type important letters
and they'll have those forms to fill.

I used to write to santa
but that's only once a year
as a UK politician
such restriction's not a fear.

My busy secretary
will be typing all year through
with my claims for my expenses
they'll have lots & lots to do.

It is hard to be an MP
there's all that sitting for a start
so I'll need some silky cushions
for my bum to feel the part.

As I am a girl I can safely
claim for tampons and a dress
cos if blokes can get these paid for
then so can I, I guess.

I want lots of brand new furniture
a huge widescreen tv
so I can record PM's question time
and glimpse a sight of me.

I'll be needing chandeliers of course
and damp proofing for the holiday home
and it surely can't be argued
I won't need 24 carat garden gnomes?

Then I'll need 24 hour security
to guard my golden gnomes
for I feel a bit insecure
they might get nicked from my second home.

Then I'll need an annexe built
to house the security staff
which will need to be furnished
properly,
not with tat don't make me laugh.

My security guard is three hundred thousand quid
I won't consider any other
there are cheaper firms
but who can you trust more
to guard you than your mother?

OK she's 75 and getting on a bit
but with the carer we've been claiming for
she can handle it.

There is much more but I need a rest
and it's obvious to see
why I'm sending in this claim
and why I need a secretary.

I'm so pleased to be an MP
thanks to all for their kind votes
Oh that reminds me I have to claim
for a hundred gravy boats.

(Trains are so last week )

... to be continued...

I wrote a few humorous Mothers day poems today here's a link to all the funny Mothers Day poems on my blog and those with a mention of Mothers. Probably not a good idea to show them to your mother

Have a Happy Mothers Day.

Mothers Day Gift.

She drives you mad
you don't know why
but every time you speak
she makes you want to cry.

You feel you've failed
your mom somehow
you never got it right
and you won't start now.

And here comes another
blessed Mothers Day
you don't want to phone
you don't know what to say.

Here's an idea to make your spirit lift
just send her an expensive gift.
Don't get wound up and in a state
if it costs enough she won't mind it turns up late.

Mothers Day is for Mothers-in-Law too.

A mother is a saintly sort
who cares with no reward,
she soothes her children's fevered brow
and comforts with a word.
Her fragrant presence
is a blessed boon
to all who come her way,
So you must not say those bad words
when your wife's mom comes to stay.

She doesn't mean to cause discord
when she tells you you're a bum,
or tells you you're giving her a headache
when you try to sing or hum.
She means to do her best for you
when she gives her sage advice,
So on Mothers day when she comes to stay
don't cuss at her, be nice.

Who's the Mommy?

Who smacked you when you were out of line?
Who nursed you when you weren't feeling fine?
Who bought you your very first ice cream cone?
So it isn't too much for you to pick up a phone?
Call your Mom at least once a week,
you know she'd love to hear you speak,
Forget about getting a large phone bill,
Don't you want a big mention in the will?

Don't upset your mother

Never give your mother
a reason to be sad
she has so many ways to make you pay
if you dare to make her mad.

Your mother taught you many things
and watched you play with bricks,
so treat her well and remember she still
has your embarrassing baby pics.

Always be kind to your mother

Always be kind to your mother
because it is right and good.
plus it's never a good idea to annoy
the person who cooks your food.

In honour of US Mother's Day May 10th here's a link to all the poems on my blog with a mention of Mothers.

Have fun reading them

Reasons to be cheerful...

Today I'm going swimming,
today I'm going to swim.
I'm going to look that sea in the eye
and jump right in.

I'm not going to chicken out,
even though I look really fat
and bulgy in my costume
I just won't think of that.

I have to shave my legs
and underneath my arms
I don't really understand why
but I don't want to cause alarm.

I wish I was tall and elegant
like lovely Uma Thurman
but when you're stumpy and plump
you can't risk going 'German'.

I love the feel of the sea
plunging beneath the water
snorkelling with the fishies
like Poseidon's favourite daughter.

It's quiet and calm underwater
I'm suffused with salt and peace
and thankfulness I had the sense
to come and live in Greece.

Sad Song of the Struggling Poet.

I sold most of my stuff on eBay
the rest went in car boot sales.
I stopped going out and spending
once my gravy train came off its rails.

I can't even sell my body
unless someone needs spare parts.
I don't seem to have transferable skills
despite training in science not arts.

It's not romantic being poverty struck
a poet in her garret,
in fact I have to say it sucks
and I am sick as a parrot.

In all my favourite novels
geniuses such as me
don't have to live in hovels
much past chapter 3.

There's usually a billionaire
awaiting in the wings
to shower them with lots of cash
and other useful things.

But this is real life dammit
and I am stuck with that
and must look on the bright side
at least if I starve, I won't be dying fat.

So we decided to stay gentiles.

Long ago when you were just a baby
we decided to explore religion,
the one that attracted was Judaism
so off we all went to schule.

It was in the evening after work
you slept through the lessons on the Torah,
they were interesting and I was hooked
but your father - not so much.

After a handful of lessons with the rabbi
we stayed behind to talk with him some more,
sat down in his comfortable office
to discuss realities.

In your pram with you was Touche Turtle,
a soft toy bedecked with buttons and bells,
the rabbi seized this to show the method
used for circumcision.

Long ago when you were just a baby
we decided to explore religion,
the one that attracted was Judaism
after 'the talk' - not so much.

Don't Give me that Old Time Religion.

Religion and I have a problem
we just can't get along.
I've tried a few faiths and churches
but something always goes wrong.

I believe in God no trouble,
though he never pops in for tea.
But I suspect that as far as religion goes
He's no more impressed than me.

In every breath as always
potential for disaster.
Life in its strongest form
constantly mutating
altering its rDNA
by self replicating.
And we go on oblivious
to the battle always raging,
fought by our immune system
and its constant macrophaging.

But even a biovirus
cannot hide from fame
The WHO
just picks on one
to give a snappy name.

Pronounces it 'pandemic'
stirs up panic and fear.
To create a celebrity virus,
that we can't 'get out of here'.

So we are petri-fied
with face masks that don't work,
mistrusting our immune response
to the viruses that lurk.
And mass hysteria thrives
on the mis-truths being stated,
fed and kept alive
and self replicated.

Inspired by swine flu and the hysteria generated by various interested parties.

There's good news and bad news on the Poet Laureate front.
Good news - they gave it to a poet what's a girl (Carol Ann Duffy)
Bad news - they gave it to a poet what's a girl but what isn't me

I suspect I went a bit wrong on my campaign to win the coveted container of booze and/or whatever dosh that was also included in this exciting appointment.

Possibly writing insulting poems about the Labour Party and all who flail in her, wasn't the brightest of Machiavellian manoeuvres.

It probably didn't help that I wrote some poems about a certain dour faced visually and temperamentally challenged person of high office either. I shouldn't have said we'd be better off with a pancake as prime minister.

It can't be the quality of my poems what lost it for me - they haven't got any.

Then again if they'd even heard of me in the first place it might have been a better platform to launch from.

Oh well - no hard feelings. At least they took my advice and gave it to a girl. I wish her all the best. Not that she needs best wishes from an anonymous, rejected, non-entity whose only poetic experience is the lonely ache of her tormented poet's soul.

I just thought of this:

Definition of a Poetry Critic - a meter reader.