Poetry to make you smile and maybe laugh

and then I died.

I'm telling you this amazing story
because I know you'll love it my friend
it is full of excitement and glory
you'll be on pins 'til I get to the end.
Everyone else I've told it to
has been so moved they cried
"and then and then what did you do?"
So I told em the truth "then I died!"

Written for NovPad20 - one of my pet hates are books that are written in the 1st person that end with the person telling the story describing their own death. It is stupid and annoying - how can they be telling us the story if they are dead?

It doesn't even work as a diary unless the person is writing a note.

But when they get to the point where they say nonsense like "and then it all went black." I get furious, because if they are unconcscious how can they tell us this?
*SPOILER ALERT FOR FILM THE BUCKET LIST*
The film the Bucket List was annoying in this way- all along the narrator is Morgan Freeman and then it ends with Jack Nicholson at his grave and Morgan Freeman is still yammering on in the background

Clouds of confusion.

"Clouds are nothing to be afraid of,"
I said looking you in the eye,
"carrying rain to water plants;
they can't hurt you, they're too high."

"Some molecules of H2O
amassed in gaseous form;
though admittedly they coalesce
and rarely start a storm."

"But even thunder as it roars
is nature at her rowdy best.
Lightning bursts, a visual feast
to stir excitement in your breast."

"So when you see those fluffy shapes
just think the circus has come to town."

"But that's the problem," you said;
getting a word in at last,
"I didn't say I was afraid of clouds;
I said I was afraid of clowns!"

Just a poem at twilight...

If vampires were of a lyrical bent
and scribbled verse in tomes;
Would the rhymes that they penned
be literally bloody poems?

"There's no money in poetry, but then there's no poetry in money, either." - Robert Graves

For Robert Graves

Money shiny
money clinky
money pretty
money dinky.

Money makes my heart beat faster
Money slave while I be master.

Money silver
Money goldy
Money metal
Money foldy

Money isn't everything
Money frees up time to sing.

Kerching!!!

Hanging together?

You!
No you!
No You!
You!

OK...
Both together;
Three!
Two!
One!

You didn't!
Neither did you!

Well someone has to.
Yes - or we'll be here forever.

You!
No you!
No you!
You!

We might be here for quite a -
Oh - you hung up!
You!

Phone calls between young lovers have always been thus

Mealtimes in abbeys
empty deep fat friars
truly love the Chip Monk

When I was born I was stolen away;
Running down the winding gravel pathway
from the golden palace where my mother
the Queen and father the King dined on quail
unaware their baby daughter was gone.

I was taken to be brought up by wolves;
carrying me carefully with sharp teeth,
teaching me to hunt and find wolfish food
never knowing about burgers and chips.

Now I'm older they have grown more cunning.
They look and act like any mum and dad.
But I know I'm a Princess and they're wolves
even though they work hard not to show it.

But now and again when the moon is full
They must creep out into the silver night
lift their heads up to its light and

AHOOOOOOOOOOW!

Dogged Disguise

I'm a fat little white poodle with a permanently dribbly chin
that's the true me if you could zoom much closer in;
Luckily no-one's managed it - least of all my lover,
my inner me's well hidden and it's staying under cover.