November 6, 2012

 

 

There’s a spare one under the mat

just by the rear door,

and another behind the bench

on the greenhouse floor.

 

There’s one hidden in a plastic bag

pressed into the old hydrangea.

Some worry about my security,

but I don’t think I’m in danger.

 

There’s one held across the road

by a very friendly neighbour,

and one held by the milkman

who sort of has it as a favour.

 

There’s one kept by the Vicar

in case I’m locked out after church,

and my brother also has one 

in case he’s ever in the lurch.

 

There’s one hooked above the cat-flap

inside the utility door,

and the gardener has a duplicate, inside

a bag of fertilizer called ‘Growmore’.

 

Under a shammy, in a bucket,

just by the outside tap,

is another for the window cleaner

who’s such a lovely chap.

 

The one I haven’t mentioned,

is held by him who can’t be named,

who first came round on his pushbike

to flush my drains out, so he claimed!

 

 

 

I asked her if she’d ever

‘googled herself’,

and she replied ‘Only when

your Grandad was away in

Africa during the war’.

 

 

 

 

 

When you’re young and in love

and passion is hot,

there’s no greater pleasure

than when he’s gripping your bot.

 

When you’re aged and wobbly

and passion is forgot,

there’s no greater feeling

than when he is not.

 

 

 

 

 

There’s nothing quite as impressive

as a swanky hanky

when a sneeze he is trying to catch.

A tissue just won’t do

and a manky hanky, makes one,

away from him, want to detach.

 

 

 

November 3, 2012

 

 

 

 

He wouldn’t go to funerals

because cemeteries gave him the creeps

and the thought of a crematorium

made his hair fall out in heaps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh, it’s you!

I had quite forgotten

you’d be here!

Don’t expect that I’ll

wave a white hanky,

or raise a glass in

good cheer, but for

the sake of these  

here present, let’s

air kiss, and away

from each other, veer.

 

 

 

 

 

Like tea and butter,

and prawns and jam,

they blended together,

like chocolate and ham.

 

 

 

 

One acts in a certain way

to compensate for the other.

That’s how a worrier becomes

the dumping ground, for those

close by, who just don’t bother.

 

 

 

 

He insisted on balancing

the books to the penny.

Attention to detail and

disciple he instilled.

He’d stay on their case,

no matter how long,

until inside their head

his point, he had drilled.

 

A fiercer task master

there never was.

On occasions he made

grown men cry!

These days he would have

been seen as a bully,

but his staff all went on

to reach the sky!

 

 

 

 

Let’s get toffed up

and paint the town,

and not spend all day

in our dressing gown.

 

 

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