Category Archives: humorous verse

Moments like this

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I had a little time………………………….
……………………..so I wrote a little rhyme

You may be in doubt……………………..
………………….of what this poem’s about.

It’s not about trees………………………….
…………………..and it’s not about cheese –

though I love the stuff……………………..
………………………….and can’t get enough.

It’s not about love…………………………….
………………………or the passion thereof,

it’s not about any of the usual topics,
like nostalgia or anger or dreams of the tropics,
and although I have hung some pictures today,
that’s not really what I’m wanting to say –

I need a word that rhymes, and I’ve chosen kiss
to perfect the couplet, and tell you this –

I bet

you’re annoyed

that you’ve

wasted your time

reading

to the end

of this

pointless rhyme.

<> <> <>

(Thinks… maybe I can pretend that I’ve been hacked, and this is none of my doing…)

©Jane Paterson Basil ………. but she may deny all responsibility

Greedy George

greedy

Gross!
Greedy
George gorges;
gulps gazpacho,
guzzles gingersnaps;
gives gargantuan groan…
gusts gigantic, gruesome gas…
gesticulates… grabs gut… goes green.
George gone! Graceless guests gawk, gasp, goggle,
Ghastly girlfriend gapes, gets giggles. Ghoulish.

~O~

I wrote this poem last night, for a contest which required  an etheree poem containing as much alliteration as possible. An etheree consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables.

To make sure I wasn’t outdone on the alliteration count, every word begins with G. I was quite pleased with the result.

When I tried to enter the contest, I was automatically  disqualified. The contest organiser had decreed that nobody who’d won a contest on that platform in the past 90 days was eligible. I think I’ve come 1st, 2nd or 3rd on that platform eight or nine times.

I thought I’d post it here instead. 

©Jane Paterson Basil

Atrocious poetry

WARNING! POOR QUALITY POETRY! ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.

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STOP! THINK!

CAN YOUR FINE SENSIBILITIES COPE WITH DREADFUL POETRY?

Just try the first stanza, and see how it goes,
though I’m not trying to lead you by the nose
but just a little note to  pursuade you stay,
it’s all about the trouble I’ve had today.

It’s a perfect day for atrocious poetry.
Today day in particular I hate technology.
I’ve run out of internet, my phone’s up the creek
I’ve unlocked a new one, but it’s too late to seek
a simcard that fits onto the neat little slot.
I wish I’d refused this new phone I just got.
I liked my old phone, should have let it be,
but I’ll blame my mistakes on all but me.
I’ll blame it on my son and the and the bloke next door
the man in the shop and a few people more.

Congratulations on getting this far,
you’re a brave little tinker, a hero, a star.

The laptop has no bytes, as my son used too much,
watching lots of movies and comedies and such.
I missed an important Webinar last night,
Thinking my phone would display it all right,
when I could have gone round to my daughter’s home –
which I would have done if only I had known;
my phone has the web, but no technology
for sharing the necessary webinar with me.
I’m unable to talk to my friends on the net,
as my phone has its ways, and it’s ways are set,
Neither can I open my most essential sites,
as I’ve tried several passwords and none of them are right.
I can’t even access my recent emails,
as every time I try, for some reason, it fails.
So I can’t exchange old passwords for new,
with my emails concealed, so what can I do?

Two stanzas on and you’re holding up fine –
you can manage the third one, it’s only four lines.

The bloke next door gave me a brand new phone,
As he’s already got two or three of his own.
I grudgingly took it, as he said it was posh,
and because it hadn’t cost him a lot of dosh.

The next one’s a sixer; and that’s not much more –
who knows what excitement you may have in store…

I got it unlocked by a very nice man,
and while waiting, I did some work in Oxfam.
When I returned to collect it, I intended to ask
him to put in my simcard – an easy task –
but I wanted to know that it fitted the slot.
In my hurry to get home I clean forgot.

You must have some stamina to have read all this text;
Perhaps you’d like to learn what happened next.

I got my old phone and I opened the back
in such a great rush that I made the screen crack.
But I didn’t think it mattered as I had a new one –
It’s all bells and whistles, a fancy Samsung.
So I opened it up, to put my simcard in it.
That’s when I learned that my simcard didn’t fit.
I shrugged my shoulders thinking, “that’s OK,
I can wait to use my Samsung for one more day.”

You’ve survived this far, so you might as well stay,
and find out all the rest that has happened today.

I replaced the simcard in my other one,
and that’s when I learnt how much damage I’d done.
The phone didn’t work, and now I’m filled with sorrow,
as I have an appointment with the dentist tomorrow,
and he sent me a text to tell me what time,
but I couldn’t read it, so tomorrow at nine
I’ll have to be there, as the one thing I recall
is the appointment is early, and I cannot call
him up on the phone, as my phone’s up the creek.
All in all, this is not a good week.
I’m feeling very stressed and it’s not hard to see,
I’m really too reliant on techology.

If you think it’s all over, I’m afraid that you are wrong,
But I’m injecting some fun into my monolithic song.

And just to add to my little tale of woe,
Another thing has happened to add to my sorrow.
I’ve lost my shoes! Yes, my shoes are gone!
Making it impossible to put them on.
They’re not in the living room, they’re not in the hall –
my comfy, cosy shoes are not anywhere at all.
They were in my bag when I left the gym,
I remember that I had them when I went in
to the shop where they unlocked my phone for me –
oh, where can my lovely shoes possibly be?
Did I leave them on the floor of the unlocky place?
Or in the back of Oxfam? In which case
Will I have to pay money, just for the treat
Of putting my favourite shoes back on my feet?
It doesn’t really matter – not to worry –
I’ll wear my boots instead, as I’m in a hurry
to find a friendly face to commiserate with me;
I’m going round to Claire’s for a cup of coffee.
(This poem would sound better if I’d typed in tea,
but I’d have had to tell a lie, and that just isn’t me.)

OK! OK! Please bear with my tale.
After all your effort, I’d be sad to see you fail.
There’s not much left, my story’s nearly done,
or to put it differently, you have almost won.

A few hours on, and I’ve had a great time,
telling this in prose instead of in rhyme,
including the bit that I haven’t told you yet
about another little factor that I rather regret;
I wrote this poem before I went out the door,
but clicked on cancel, so it was there no more.
I didn’t mean to do it – it was an accident;
a sad little mishap to my detriment.
I’ve wracked my brains and my memory,
and this version’s even worse, as far as I can see,
but I don’t really care, I’m devoid of shame –
I’m going to post it anyway, ABOVE MY NAME.

Wait a second – there’s a little PS
If you give up now, you will miss the best.

P.S
Oh happy me, my shoes are under my chair!
I can’t understand how they could have got there.
Now I’m off to bed, and whatever I may say,
All in all, it’s been an entertaining day.

I’m totally impressed with your sticking powers –
You thoroughly deserve this bunch of flowers.

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Sorry they have wilted, but I’ve waited for days
to post my little ditty on this WordPress page.

©Jane Paterson Basil

You ask

You ask how much I need you, but I explained;
I wish you had more sense in your tiny bird brain.
You ask how much I love you; I told you before,
You irritate my senses, you foolish old bore.

Hold the train, I won’t be a mo.
Hold the train, can’t you see I want to go.

You ask that same old question, did you mis-hear;
I’d love you to syringe all the wax from your ear.
You ask how much I need you, I’ll tell you true,
Until the twelfth of never I’ll not be wanting you.

Hold the train, I will not be long.
Here’s the train, release my arm and I’ll be gone.

You ask that same old question, did you mis-hear;
I’d love you to syringe all the wax from your ear.
You ask how much I need you, I’ll tell you true,
Until the twelfth of never I’ll not be wanting you.

I offer my almost sincere apologies to Jerry Livingston and Paul Francis Webster, who wrote The Twelfth of Never.

Unfortunately, the following video only shows Johnny Mathis singing the original version, as I haven’t yet persuaded him to record my lyrics. However, it’s really rather good, and I hope you’ll enjoy it.

The Daily Post #Tiny

©Jane Paterson Basil

Trussed

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you trussed me like a goose to this old bedfame
you told me a lie, said it’s a just a game
twenty hours later, I’m still tightly trussed
feeling like my bladder is about to bust
I’ve tried to work loose, but no can do
it makes me wonder, why did I trust you?

The Daily Post #Trust

©Jane Paterson Basil

Blame the weather

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Naughty breeze
floats through the window
infiltrates my facial orifices
flooding my brain with wicked designs

Today I may climb a tree
hoisting funny oversized underwear
to drop onto unsuspecting heads
Rip off my clothes and spin in the sun
Embarrass an innaccessible man
with insistantly flirtatious blab
having first chosen one far to young
to be either interested or interesting

I want to bother beggers in the street
ask them for change for a busfare or a cup of tea
Accost posh ladies out for a Sunday treat
offer to sell them a stolen watch or DVD
then open my coat to show a badly written phrase like

stop staring at my tits or
oh, so you like my boobs,

scribbled across my naked chest

l could fill a Tesco trolley with bottles of chablis
and when I get to the checkout, say

I forgot my purse
but I have enough pennies in my pocket for a pack of chewing gum

but drop my change, letting it roll under the paystation
precipitating a scrabble for coathangers and
resentful assistance from simmering assistants
who crouch at my feet, reaching in the dust
while I unwrap the tube, and chew insouciantly
muttering about innefficient service

I’d like to waltz down a busy road, halting traffic, causing chaos
enraging sleepy weekend travellers
wait for my audience to swell
then scream

somebody’s stolen my left-handed antimacassar
stopping the snowdrops from blooming this summer
and there’s a poodle in my shoe

just to see how a crowd reacts when I appear to be mad

Shall I pretend to be pregnant
pee in a policeman’s hat
and then run away, yelling hehe, I’m not really

No, these adventures can wait for another day
when I’m a little greyer and the sight of me
makes people think of purple
so they half expect me to be insane

I’m a little tired and it looks like rain
not the kind of weather for playing in the streets
so I hope you don’t mind if I go to sleep

©Jane Paterson Basil

Hairy legs

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comely green eyes gazed into mine
reavealing his deepest desires
eyes that could hold entire conversations
even while the lips dripped drivel

I read the language of those eyes
the plea
please love me, they cried

the promises
I’d scatter flowers for you, build towering castles in your name,
it would be a passionate game of love that only two can play
me and you, side by side, day by day…
we could be a team, I’d buy you icecream, life would be a dream…

you get the scene

and the questions
wouldn’t I like the company, a helpmate, soulmate, best mate,
a man to to rely on, a shoulder to cry on
a warm companion in my bed
why won’t I try
to be half of a duo instead

I smiled at the cliched phrases written in his eyes

I’ll tell you why, I said
I’m not inclined to shave my legs

©Jane Paterson Basil