Thread: Own poems

petal

With age comes loads of wisdom
At least that's what I'm told
All I know is nowadays
I'm permanently cold !!

Two jumpers and a cardi
Is a must I fear for me
Other folk say 'ain't it warm'
I just turn up the heat !

Even in the summer when
The sun shines bright and hot
And folk are out in shorts and t-shirts
Me ? Certainly not !

I'd catch a chill and my poor legs
The world don't want to see
And my hands and feet are knobbly
Like my grandmas's used to be.

My hairs gone sort of straw like
My eyesights very dim
My back it twinges if I move
I've lost count of all my chins !!

But inside, well that's different
I'm thirty - if a day
And want to do so many things
But they'd be a price to pay.

So I'll just have to get used to being
Just that wee bit older
And put a thicker cardi on
When the weather's that bit colder.

My brain still works..........well sort of
Long skirts cover my limbs
Don't need to follow fashion
So what if I'm not slim.

I still can have a lark about
And folk just look and say
'She's getting on.......she can't help it'
So out I go to play.

I'll chat up all those nice young lads
At supermarket tills
And whistle at the builder chaps
For me time's standing still !

No-one gets offended
If I say b****r off
Waving my brolly in the air
'It's her age' they slightly cough.

You see it doesn't matter
Just who must I impress ?
No-one.........cos I've done it all
I think.........well, more or less.

So at last I can be myself
Be glad to be alive
Cos what folk think don't matter
When you're nearing sixty five !

anny

I sometimes wonder who they think I am,
These people who send me their wretched spam.
You'd think I was some hormone - ridden youth
Rather than what I am, somewhat long in tooth
And female to boot - my name is not a clue ?
I wouldn't mind , if it were only one or two,
Or if it happened just now and again,
No doubt I'd merely laugh about it, then.

But now it's really gone beyond a joke,
I can't believe they send this stuff to folk.
I don't wish to come over as a prude
But I'm sent stuff that is, quite frankly, rude.
You'll say don't open it , then, and I don't.
I may be tempted, in a naughty mood, but won't.

But addresses and subjects are there to be read
And though they're all sent to the spam box instead
Of the inbox, both lots can and do go astray
So before I click 'empty' and send them away
I make sure that they're all sorted out.
Which is when I see what they're about.

Of course, it isn't all that kind of thing
A lot of it's just normal marketing.
Of twenty-seven spam that came today
Three casinos have invited me to play,
Three lots of watches have been offered me,
Adobe software to put into my pc,
And designer shoes, I've not seen that before
But tomorrow no doubt I'll be offered more.

And two lots of Blue Pills - I wonder what are they ?
I won't find out, now that I've clicked them both away.
As to the rest, they're just the usual rot,
And if had my way they'd be banned, the damn' lot.
Well, thankyou so much for lending an ear,
I just thought I'd have a wee moan while I'm here.

anny

Bazzer

Oh! Anny I feel for you, getting this stuff
I guess it's the price that we pay
for the wonderful benefits of our PC
and the contacts we're making each day
I used to get similar filling my screen
but decided enough was enough
and now I allow only friends to come through
just blocking all this other stuff

My In-Box is now quite a nice place to go,
as in there I know I will find
Some jokes and some chatter, occasional natter
from people that I know are kind.
Now I never get asked for my bank account data
or asked if I'd like to meet Lola
The downside of course is I get no free offers
of Chocolate, Viagra or Cola

Chris

petal

It seems we've had an earthquake
But we were fast asleep
Our neighbours on the other hand
Were all out in the street
Wondering what was going on
Had a gas boiler blown up ?
Was this the start of WW3 ?
But it shattered not a cup.

In Skegness -so a lady said
There was trembling in the loo
But all her tea pots stayed on the shelf
And her dogs slept through it too !
Grimbsy the firemen were out
I'm glad I was asleep
I would have only panicked
And run out in my bare feet !!

We've had the floods and now this
I wonder what comes next ?
A plague of dreaded locusts ?
Hope not.........I'll be right vexed !
I've had enough of freak weather
And tremblings underground
I want things to be 'normal'
And feel all safe and sound.

But - funny - talking of
The storm before the calm.......
Today the weather's been so good
Blue skies, sunshine, quite warm !
A pleasure to go out it was
Despite a little breeze
So I went off shopping got some bargains
Came back home quite pleased.

So please please, no more tremors
And quivering of the soil
Or rain that never seems to stop
And heat that makes us boil.
Lets have some 'normal' weather
Not Gale force winds, hail, snow
If only we could have control
But sadly.............the answer's 'no'.

So I just hope that next time
Our weather is 'extreme'
I'm unaware of all of it
And in the land of dreams..................

anny

slizzy

Just popped in to say well done
To all you poets'.. everyone
Each of you writes clever stuff
Me....I've never had enough..
Of being amused at words you pen
They make me giggle, and when...
my gratitude I want to express
for the talent you all possess
I feel inadequate and 'why'
Because YOUR ability I can't apply
I'm using 'word rhymer' to help me say
This poetry lark is not MY forte.

So keep em rolling for they are read
With appreciation and, that said
This took me forever ..to write
Didn't flow..... like it might
Poet......... I certainly am not
It's an effort, so this is your lot
Thought of posting "great rhyme"
But decided I should take the time
To reply in poetry as a respect
Though I know, it's far from perfect
But hope i've conveyed to you
My wonderment for what you do.

petal

Well done slizzy - you're a poet
While me ? I just drone on
'Bout this and that - nothing special
Until the words have gone.

Just like today.......what's happened ?
Nothing to write about
No 'incidents' involving kids
Or Bill or Me.........there's nowt !!

I tidied up my desk today
How interesting is that ??
Well tidy isn't quite the word
Oh what a mess - thought 'drat !'

Can't find a thing, my letter rack
Was aching with fatigue
At the 'stuff' crammed in it tightly
But now...........wish you could see........

I've chucked a load of paper out
I've filed stuff all away
I've found things I forgot were there
That'd not seen light of day !

An Estee Lauder sample
Of anti-ageing cream
So small that it won't do much good
Where my wrinkles have been !

A pair of specs that need mending
Belonging to my Bill
Now do I keep them ? Chuck them out ?
He's two pairs.........so chuck I will !!

A twiglet box, quite empty
I'd had a daft idea
Cover it with paper, fill with chocs
Cheap present this year !

There's photos that need sorting out
I've little pots galore
With cats on.........given as presents
Oh please.......don;t want no more !

My desk drawers I daren't look at
They're an almighty mess !
To sort them out would take too long
And cause me too much stress !

They'll wait until another day
Tomorrow.........well maybe
But already I found a surprise
Some tippex................well yippee !!!

Oh look..........some glue (I just bought more)
Now whatelse is lurking there ?
Oh lor my box of staples
Has tipped out everywhere !!

I've got to clear this mess up
Oh why oh why oh why
Aren't I a tidy sort of person
(ends rhyme with a deep sigh.................)

anny

My grandaughter Lucy, aged eleven, wrote this smashing wee poem, and I'd like to post it here, to share it with you. I hope you don't mind.
anny.


My Mum.

My mum, I tell you, she's on a mission
To save us all from television.
She parades up and down the street,
Pounding drums and stamping feet.
She tells us that its bad for our eyes,
Ignores our protests, screams and cries,
And when its time for Raising the Dead
She'd prefer us to watch paint dry instead.
We tell her how its so unfair,
She doesn't hear us, doesn't care.
She'l lock us up, throw away the key,
And leave us without our much - loved TV.

Lucy

Chris