A Page of Poems : General Humour - 2
Pedro El Trapecista
(Feb 2004)
Pedro El Trapecista was king of the high trapeze
And toured the Spanish mainland bringing audiences to their knees
With complicated somersaults performed with graceful ease
And a body that the women, and some men, would like to squeeze.
Known as Spain's great swinger he then lost his head for heights
And started getting nose-bleeds while pulling on his tights.
He lost his sense of balance and got sick just flying kites,
Now twenty feet's the highest he can climb without the frights.
Poor Pedro lost his job to a troupe of jumping fleas
And left behind the high life and his trusty old trapeze.
He sold his big Mercedes, his medallions and his skis
And now he tours the country picking olives out of trees. ***
The Mugging
(Jan 2002)
When my guard was down they attacked from behind
With a blow to the head - now I wake up to find
There's a sort of red mist in front of one eye
And my tongue's gone all rubbery and my mouth is so dry.
There's a part of my head that floats on its own
And a pain when I move that just makes me groan.
My stomach and its contents have ceased to be friends
And are now parting company via both ends.
I ought to get up but I'm frightened to try,
I just want to lie here and hope that I'll die.
I can't understand how I came to be caught
By those two nasty muggers - red wine and port. ***
No Dumping Please
(Sep 2001)
My gravel drive is being used
As a giant litter tray,
No matter what I try to do
There are new poohs every day.
I clean it up and hose it down
And spray it all once more
But still the postman has to mind
The mound right by the door.
I know it's more than just one cat
The evidence is clear
That all the local felines know
The public loo is here!
I hid one night to catch them out
But there was one big flaw -
They could see when I could not
So not a thing I saw.
But with the morning light I found
Their calling cards were there,
And two cats sitting on the wall
As if it was a dare.
That was when I realised
The war could not be won
For cats are far superior
When all is said and done.
There's only one thing left to do
Before I'm madly raving -
I'll have to hide my gravel drive
Beneath a ton of paving. ***
Mirror
Image
(Jan 2001)
I didn’t realise I was schizophrenic
Until the other day
In my bathroom mirror I saw myself
Looking the other way. ***
Move Over
(Oct 2000)
Of course I'm a very patient driver
But your car is rather slow
And always seems to want to stop
When I just want to go.
Of course I'm not an aggressive driver
And I don't want you to dash
It's just that there's an electrics fault
That makes my headlights flash.
Of course I'm a forgiving driver but
You forgot to indicate
And I'm only trying to help you when
I hoot and gesticulate.
Of course I'm a very tolerant driver
I'm not saying you're a hog
I only drive this close because
I like your nodding dog.
Of course I'm a law-abiding driver
I'm not the criminal sort
And now I really must get on
I'm rather late for court. ***
Poetic Licence
(Jun 2000)
Poetic licence says that I'm
Allowed to write down words that rhyme
And also words that don't, but ought
Because they're spelt the same - like drought.
My rhymes can only rhyme for me,
The way I say the words I see.
So if your accent's not the same
And things don't rhyme - I'm not to blame. ***
Red Wine Blues
(May 2001)
The brochure promised me blue skies
And sun eight hours a day
It never mentioned rain at all
For the Algarve in the middle of May.
The wind blew cold from the mountains
Bringing clouds all shades of grey
And the locals just shrugged their shoulders
In the Algarve in the middle of May.
But Portuguese wine is so cheap
And I bought some without delay
Then drank two bottles by lunchtime
In the Algarve in the middle of May.
I lay by the pool in defiance
And dared the sun to come play
Then fell asleep and got sunburnt
In the Algarve in the middle of May.
The doctor came round with some cream,
He said in the shade I must stay
And asked why I'd been so foolish
In the Algarve on my very first day. ***
Stock Control
(May 2000)
The future is always changing
And I'm sure the day will come
When they send a newborn baby home
With a bar code on its tum.
The date of manufacture
And the life expectancy
Will also be imprinted there
For anyone to see.
All relevant information,
From illness to school degrees,
Will be added on as time goes by
To be accessed with great ease.
And as the item ages
And can't cope for itself
They'll double-check the 'use-by' date
And take it off the shelf. ***
Advert for
Film of English Test Tour in Aussie
(1998)
Since this verse was written it has come to light that some international
cricketers have taken bribes. Although the above individual has not
been one
of them it makes you think. Were/are we really that bad?
Mike Atherton stars in
these stirring tales
Of derring-do and bonding males
Of breathtaking feats in the burning sun
Trying to score more than just one run.
Follow the fortunes of the England side,
Losing to spin and pace with pride.
Live with the pain as stumps are splayed
And watch with wonder as they still get paid! ***
Winter Break
(Jan 2003)
It was nice and sunny when I pitched my tent
But I knew that it wouldn't last
For the forecast said that wind and rain
Was heading my way fast.
And sure enough now three hours later
I'm zipped in good and tight,
While the storm outside rages loud and strong
Into the winter night.
I lie here listening to movements outside,
And sounds I can't explain.
I turn on my torch to show I'm awake
Then turn it off again
'Cos I don't want to attract the attention of
Something that might smell fear,
As I hide in my sleeping bag, asking myself:
What am I doing here?
Next time I'm definitely going elsewhere
Like a Yorkshire Moor or Dale
But, for now, it's Oxford Street
And the queue for the winter sale. ***
Mission Impossible
(Feb 2002)
Here I am, it's happened again,
I'm stood here like a fool
Wondering what I came here for,
And feeling rather cool
'Cos the door's been open quite a time
But inspiration's dead -
The light may be on in the fridge
But it's not on in my head.
My journey here was purposeful,
I knew what I must do,
But now I'm here my mind's a blank
And I haven't got a clue.
I might as well be on the moon,
On some great crater's ridge,
As standing here this afternoon
Staring at my fridge. ***
So Near Yet So Far
(Feb 2003)
My wife had up and left me
In search of happiness
And though a week had now gone by
I was still in quite a mess.
The fridge and larder were empty
Apart from odds and ends:
Nothing there to help me keep
My stomach and I good friends.
Then, low and behold, I saw it:
Corned beef in a square-looking tin
With a key stuck on the outside
Providing an easy way in.
I found the remains of the Branston
And some crystalised strawberry jam.
They made the plate look colourful,
Though I thought they'd go better with spam.
I held the tin quite firmly,
Like I would the hand of a friend,
Then broke off the key and threaded
The thin metal strip through the end.
A twist of the wrist and I'd started
To separate the strip from the tin
While the smell of the meat was heaven:
Which shows what a state I was in.
Then the key was no longer turning:
I twisted again and then, Damn!
The thin metal strip just broke apart
And I dropped the key in the jam.
But did I let this faze me?
Oh no! not on your life:
I attacked the tin with my spoon and fork
(That was after I'd broken the knife)
But an inch and a half was not enough
Of a gap to let me in
So I did the only thing I could:
I threw it all into the bin.
Of course, I blamed it on my wife
Well, what else could I do?
'Cos when she took her leave that day
She took the tin-opener too. ***
all the above works are copyright David Axton © All Rights Reserved
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