Poem number 1
The Very Last Poem
This is the very last poem
I’ve got to the end of the road
For better or worse
There’ll be no more verse
When I’ve got to the end of this ode.
This is the very last poem
I’ve run out of meter and rhyme
The cupboard is bare
No haikus in there
Just silence, to last for all time.
This is the very last poem,
I’ll leave with a thought if I may:
There’s magic in words
So if life gives you turds
Just read, and the shit goes away.
Poem number 2
On Vegetables And Destiny
I was only the Greengrocer’s bag-boy
But I knew how to dig up a spud
I could pick perfect peas
And shake fruit from the trees
Tell a good runner bean from a dud.
The village folk called me Veg Wonder
And said with my skills I’d go far
But bored with my greens
I soon split the scene
In a knackered and rusty old car.
I drove up the coastline to Norway
Where I granted my dying mum’s wish
I opened a chippy
Called Old Mr Drippy
And spent my life battering fish.
Poem number 4
A girl with no boobs in her bra
Said “A flat chest is better by far,
‘Cause golf is my thing –
Boobs would hamper my swing
And I’d never get round under par!”
Poem number 7
There was a man from Timbuktoo
Who only had one arm
He only had one nostril
But he had a lot of charm,
He met a lovely Prom Queen
They were wed on Christmas Day
In a church in the Sahara
By a Vicar who was gay.
Poem number 8
I opened up a Kinder Egg
A finger was inside
Not plastic, but a real one
From a person who had died
It smelt a bit of rotten eggs
The end was turning black
The bone was white and gleaming
And the skin was pale and slack
I felt quite disappointed
I’d expected something fun
But this finger wasn’t pleasant
Now its pointing days were done
So I took it to the bathroom
And I flushed it down the loo
And I’ll be writing off to Kinder
For a refund, PDQ!
Poem number 16
I don’t buy avocados
There’s very little point
They take too long to ripen
And they’re sure to disappoint
The stone is far too massive
And removing it’s a sod
The skin is quite unpleasant
And the flesh tastes slightly odd
So keep your avocados
They’re disgusting, hard to chew
Prunes are much more tasty
And they regulate your poo.
Poem number 17
You’ve no hair. Do you care
That your head is shiny pink?
Do you wish that things were different
Whilst you sip your evening drink?
Do you dream of flowing tresses
Just like Samson,when you see
Your reflection in the mirror
In the bathroom whilst you wee?
Do you spread your head with lotion
In the morning when you rise
In the hope that by the evening
You’ll have hair down to your eyes?
Well console yourself good fellow
There’s an upside to your down
For though you’ve got no plumage
Just a dimpled mottled crown
You will never suffer dandruff
And you haven’t any lice
You’ll never need a dryer
Just a towelling will suffice,
You’ll shave off precious seconds
From your morning wash routine –
You’ll catch the bus whilst others
Are still struggling to get clean.
The wind won’t spoil your image
And the rain will bounce away
You’ll never have to worry
That your temple’s going grey
But best of all, dear baldie
Now your tree is just a stump
You can wear a stupid toupe
And pretend you’re Donald Trump!
Poem number 18
The Infirm Worm
There once was a wriggling worm
Who was ill, slightly poorly, infirm
He turned so damn pale
That no-one could fail
To point out that he looked like a sperm.
Poem number 22
Contentment Comes To Those Who Wait
I wrote a novel
I was chuffed
It got published
I got stuffed
Now I stick
To writing rhyme
I’m past my prime
At peace at last
No itch for prose
Content to write
In tiny rows.
Poem number 24
A Tea Limerick
She liked to drink loosely leafed tea
But the leaves passed right through to her wee
“You’ve blocked up the bog!”
Cried her husband, agog
“Use a strainer when having a pee!”