I Wish I Was An Octopus

A poem about octupuses. Because octopuses are spectactularly weird. And, if recent press is to be believed, are in fact aliens. Brilliant.

I Wish I Was An Octopus

I wish I was an octopus,
Way down in the depths of the sea,
With suckers so comical, face diabolical,
Kooky as kooky can be!

Hurray! Hurray! I’d be jetting away!
As I flunged through the shimbly sea,
Confounding all others by changing my colours,
An octopus’ life for me!

A cephalopod who looks awfully odd,
A freak with a beak, tee hee!
I’d never more moan, “ooh, the pain in me bones!”
Cos I’d be an invertebrate, see!

Hurray! Hurray! I’d be wafting away!
As I flooped through wurgly sea,
Squeezing through cracks with a curious knack,
An octopus’ life for me!

If you crossed me, I think I would squirt you with ink,
How I’d laugh as you scarpered from me!
I’d be sly, I’d be smart, but I’d have a great heart,
No – better than that… I’d have three!

Hurray! Hurray! I’d be creeping away,
As I scrundled down deep in the sea,
I’d not hunger for much – for I’d taste all I touched!
An octopus’ life for me!

Us humans are gringey, our lives dull and dingy,
What cloddery beings we be!
I’d rather be flexible, waving my tentacles,
Flubbering curiously!

Hurray! Hurray! I’m dreaming away,
Of a life in the glorpical sea,
As a creature of splendour, a freak show contender,
An octopus’ life for me!

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Photo by Taylor Ann Wright on Unsplash

Doggy Style

Doggy Style

The eighties set fashion on fire,
That’s why it’s the look I desire!
So I’ve nailed it, long-term,
With a hot poodle perm,
Just like Brian May, Cher and Mariah.

Showed my stylist a photo of Whitney
She went ever so pale very quickly,
She got acid and bleach,
Three big drumfuls of each,
And some creosote. “Yes!” I cried, “Hit me!”

She slathered me, crisped me like crazy,
I said, “Hold up the mirror! Amaze me!”
And – woohoo and way-hay!
I was Jennifer Grey,
Ripe ‘n’ ready to woo Patrick Swayze!

But then – it all got rather strange,
For my poodle perm started to change,
Seems its poodle-dog mind
Was not noble or kind –
It was dirty, debauched and deranged!

My friends weren’t impressed. They’d cry “Wowzers!”
As my perm tried to dry-hump their trousers,
It would steal all their shoes,
Roll in animal poos –
I was banned from their elegant houses.

But soon they were howling with laughter,
It would jump in the lake – I’d go after!
Chasing kitties for kicks,
Going crazy for sticks,
My new perm was a doggy disaster!

It would seek other perms! It would spot em,
Bound up close, and then sniff round their bottom!
This all got me in trouble,
With Bon Jovi’s double,
Who called the police, which was rotten.

So now I’m awaiting the chop,
Down at “Woofterz”, the dog-grooming shop.
Well, I’ll no longer feel,
Like a smokin’ Brooke Shields,
But at least all the lawsuits will stop!

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Underwear

Gah! Beware! Half-naked lady! And she ain’t no spring chicken…

Underwear

Prancing around in my underwear,
Carefree, with clothes cast asunder, there’s
All sorts of scares lurking under there –
Yippee! I’ll get them all out!

Watch out, I’ll give you an awful fright,
Dancing, half-naked in your full sight,
This is such fun – and it’s lawful right?
Waving my wobbles about!

Once I was gorgeous and glamorous
Naked, I’d make the boys amorous
Now I look frankly cadaverous
Bits falling off all around

Dimply bits, crinkly bits, hairy bits,
Flabby bits, saggy bits, scary bits,
Here! Have a look – even stare a bit –
Some bits hang down to the ground!

Waggling to waltzes and minuets
Have I put fear of God in you yet?
No? Then just watch as I pirouette –
Front bits fly round to the side!

Yay! Let’s go frighten the town today,
Let all our fun bits hang down and sway,
Wiggling, wiping our frowns away,
Flashing with passion and pride!

 

© Nina Parmenter 2018

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Showdown!

There’s a rumble down at the old folks’ home…

Showdown

It’s time for a showdown!
I’m taking that ho down!
Screamed Dotty, crouched low down, fists ready to fight,
Then she pounced upon Martha,
Who’d stolen her Arthur,
And after, had laughed at her pitiful plight.

At their care home, Sea View,
As old Martha well knew,
The men were too few – well, in fact there was one!
Arthur’s love life was crazy –
he’d dabbled with Daisy,
Then Mavis, then Maisie, then Dot came along!

Martha flipped! With a whip,
And a click of her hip,
She landed a kick at the base of Dot’s spine.
Dotty reeled, back she wheeled!
Martha squealed, “Yield, bitch, yield!”
But Dotty yelled, “NEVER! Cos Arthur is mine!!!”

Dotty stood rocking,
In surgical stockings,
While Martha, still mocking, stared straight in her eye,
Dotty charged like a tank,
And delivered a spank,
To the flank of the skank who had taken her guy!

With a fine rugby tackle,
Deployed with a cackle,
Martha managed to whack all Dot’s teeth on the floor,
Riled and gummy,
Dot sold her a dummy,
Then landed a scrummy left hook on her jaw!

Martha, a-glimmer
With rage, grabbed a zimmer,
Dot’s chances grew slimmer – she backed off with dread,
Martha slipped on spilt tea!
Smack! The zimmer broke free,
And with hollers of glee, Dot sat down on her head!

“Surrender!” she cried,
As she sat there astride,
With her wide underside squashing Martha’s smug face,
“OK!” muttered Martha,
All muffled, “Keep Arthur!”
Then Dotty discharged her in utter disgrace.

With joy and with laughter,
Dot went to find Arthur,
But Arthur was faster than Martha or Dot,
She found him entwined,
With Matilda who whined,
“He just needs someone kind!” But a slap’s what he got.

Dot and Martha soon swore,
A swift end to their war,
Then they knocked Arthur’s door – just to make some amends.
And Arthur’s reaction?
“Hey girls! Double action!”
So now he’s in traction. And they’re best of friends.

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

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Monkey Fingers

A request! This one’s from my lovely sister Ana Bush (yes, there is a family resemblance, but no, that’s not her in the picture).

Ana was trying to send me a request for another poem (coming soon!) but unfortunately, queen of the touchscreen that she is, ended up requesting…… “a period”. Brings a whole new meaning to “lovin’ your flow” doesn’t it?!

So, Ana, you ham-fisted lovely, I present….. your period.

Monkey Fingers

Ooh! Ooh! Monkey-Fingers!
Stabby, jabby, chunky fingers,
Pawing at my touchscreen like a primate in a zoo,
Hit, miss, proddy, pokey,
Stupid smartphones just provoke me,
How can I hit ONE key with a finger made for two?

Smug little kiddywinkies,
Typing with their dinky pinkies,
Flying round their phones, like fairies frisking through the flowers,
Tippy, tappy, flutter, flitter,
WhatsApp, Snapchat, Tinder, Twitter –
Meanwhile, Monkey sends a text. This may take Monkey hours.

Ooh! Ooh! Scary Monkey,
Stroppy, sulky, sweary Monkey,
Scowling at my smartphone like it threw a monkey poo!
Still, while all the techno-kiddies,
Scroll and scroll until they’re giddy,
Monkey here is busy… with the FUN things monkeys do!

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Pampered Pussy

Depending on your way of thinking, you may be pleased or disappointed to hear that this isn’t a vajazzle poem (although what a terrific topic for a later date!) – it’s about an actual cat.

My beloved childhood cat Sidney was a soft old bugger. But sometimes he’d come over all “call of the wild” and be seized by the need to climb a tree. This was Not A Good Idea. The sight of him, splayed on top of a tree, the tree bending under his weight (he was massive), and him wondering what on EARTH just happened – that will stay with me forever.

God love him. Somewhere beneath that cute, cuddly exterior was a petulant, prowling prairie cat and sometimes, that petulant, prowling prairie cat just had to come out.

Pampered Pussy

They call me pampered pussy,
“Such a PRETTY pet!” they purr,
All they see’s a funny feline,
Just a friend with fluffy fur.

Hear me humans! I AM HUNTER!
I am leopard, lynx and lion,
I am panther, I am puma,
I will eyeball you with iron!
I’m machine. A mighty muscle,
I am sleek and sinewed steel,
Engineered by evolution,
You are nothing! You should kneel!
Shhh now. I will show you.
See the tremble in that tree?
It’s a beast and I will best it!
Stand aside now, scum, and see.

I creep.
I crouch.
I climb!
Curled
claws
clutching
confidently,
cleverly
crafted
curves
completely
coordinated,
I coast
coolly,
competently,
courageously,
to the crown.
THE CREATURE
IS CONQUERED!!
Now – cower,
clumsy
cretins!
For
I
am
CAT
!!!!!!

(Quick question.
How DO I get down?!)

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Gotta Get Out The House

Ah… quality time at home with the children.

I’m sorry, what?! There is quality time with the children. And there is time at home with the children. And, for our family, the two are pretty much mutually exclusive. Home is about mess, fights, funny smells, nagging, exasperation, and a lot of arguments involving the word “screen”. The good stuff happens outside the house. IF ONLY WE CAN GET THEM OUT….

Gotta Get Out The House

Gotta get out the house, gotta leave,
My sanity needs some reprieve,
That two little boys,
Could make so much noise –
You’d have to be here to believe!

Before, I’d no concept at all,
Of the phrase “We are climbing the walls” ,
But now it appears,
We are wall mountaineers,
Trying to flee from the mess and the brawls.

We’ve tried castles, museums, a wood,
Hit the park way more times than we should,
Our purses are thickets,
Of passes and tickets,
Cos not being home is soooo good.

Our bank account’s screams are dramatic:
“No more lunch! No more fuel! I can’t hack it!”
“No more bribes!” (Yes – they’re wrong –
But they move things along –
And we call it “being pragmatic”!)

So into the car and away!
The safari park’s waiting today!
To the monkey house! Yes,
It might look quite a mess –
But OUR house will look worse if we stay!

 

©️Nina Parmenter 2018

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Two Tall Tales

Sometimes life is stranger than fiction. But usually — let’s face it — it’s not. In fact, sorry to say, it’s often quite dull.

Although most of the poems I post on here are autobiographical (with a little poetic licence), sometimes it’s fun to indulge in a bit of nonsense.

So here are two silly tales that are pure, silly, fiction (and if ANYONE recognizes themselves, it’s utter co-incidence!)

 

The Story of Sophie Smith

Sophie Smith came home from school, her blue eyes shining bright,
Her mum saw what was in her hand, and turned completely white.
“Look Mummy!” she cried happily, “I’ve got a violin!”
And she bounced up to her room, so her rehearsal could begin.

For hour after hour, Sophie scraped that violin,
She heard some shrieks from down the stairs, said “Great! They’re joining in!”
But when she heard the front door slam, she thought “What’s going on?”
So finally she left her room… and everyone had gone.

There were teeth marks in the table, there were gouges in the grout,
The cat lay cowering on the chair, its hair all fallen out,
There were claw marks in the curtains, lacerations in the floor,
There were signs of frantic packing, and a note upon the door.

“We love you, Sophie Smith,” it said, “but hate that vile din –
So sorry, but you have to choose – us or the violin!”
Sophie shrugged. She phoned her friends. Yelled “Party is at mine!”
“My friend,” she told her violin, “I think we’ll get on fine!”

 

My Dear Mr Morris

“My dear Mr Morris, I’ll hope you’ll consider
Me wedding your daughter. I heard you forbid her
To marry a suitor without your consent –
My intentions are pure, sir. I’m truly a gent!”

“So how will you treat her?” “I’ll spoil her of course!
You see, handling a woman’s like riding a horse –
The more fillies you tame, then the greater your skill,
Believe ME, Mr Morris, I’ve sure had my fill!”

“And what do you earn?” “Oh I earn to the max!
See, I’m building our future, so don’t pay much tax,
As I always take cash! Now, what was it you do?
Oh! You work for the Fraud Squad! Well hey, good for you!”

“And do you want children?” “Oh yes sir! A dozen!
I remember, my mum said she married her cousin
To strengthen our family’s excellent genes –
Which I’m keen to pass on, if you know what I mean!”

“Well Mr Morris, I think you’ll agree,
That she won’t find a husband who’s better than me!
Oh, we’re going outside? Ok! Let’s get some air!
Oh no, don’t close the door!
Hello???
Anyone there???”

 

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Dinner with the girls

Last Saturday I went out for dinner with some fabulous friends, and it struck me how very similar it was to dinners-with-friends 20 years ago – but yet how very different. Different place, different friends, slightly different topics of conversation – yet the laughter, the bonding and the sheer joy of time spent with my ladies remained the same.

And, obviously, my face hasn’t changed a bit.

Dinner with the girls

1 – THEN (1998)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week studying,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got this tiny glittery vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I hoik em up; there’s boys about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your lady bits?
And when you’re naked with a man,
Do you do EVERYTHING you can?
For pudding? Ice cream! Make it 2!
My friend will have a Malibu.
Then let’s go clubbing, drink some more,
But try to get to bed in four –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by two,
I’ve got an essay still to do.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

2 – NOW (2018)

Dinner with the girls today,
So little time, so much to say!
We’ve spent the whole week parenting,
So let the gossiping begin!
The sales today were just THE BEST –
I got myself this thermal vest,
Which works for me, cos when I’m out,
I layer up; there’s flu about!
Let’s get into the crux of it:
Do you all wax your husbands’ bits?
And when you’re naked with your man,
Do you keep socks on if you can?
For pudding? Crumble. Gluten free.
My friend will have a cup of tea.
My goodness!! Is it half past ten?
I must be getting home again –
Tomorrow, MUST be up by
eight,
I’ve got the hall to decorate.

I hate it when the evening ends
Cos nothing beats good times with friends.

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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Big long German words

Some people say German is an ugly language, but I’ve always found it incredibly enjoyable to speak, wonderfully descriptive, and, at times, hilarious! Besides, writing this allowed me to spend some time rifling through my Duden German dictionary, which took me right back to the happy place of my student days.

So, if you’re ready for a bit of fun oral exercise…

Big long German words

Big long German words are such a banquet for the ears,
They’re scary on the page, but please, just set aside your fears!
For like those German vehicles we’ve taken to our hearts,
The perfect German word is made from perfect German parts.

“Staubsauger” means hoover, or a “sucker up of dust”,
A “Büstenhalter” is a bra, or “holder for the bust”,
“Liebestrunken” means besotted, “drunk or high on love”,
A “Handschuh” is “a shoe for hands” – you’ve got it, it’s a glove!

“Gluhbirne” means “glow pear”, or a lightbulb, as you guessed,
“Brustwarzen” are nipples, simply “warts upon the breast”,
“Fahrtrichtungsanzeiger”? Well, that won’t take much unravelling,
It’s an indicator, or a “thing that shows which way you’re travelling”.

“Nacktschnecke” means “naked snail” – a slug to me and you,
“Durchfall” – well, that’s diarrhoea, or “stuff that falls straight through”,
“Fallschirmspringerschule” is a parachuting school,
And it means “a school for jumpers with umbrellas for a fall”!

So that’s the way it works! You see, it’s not TOO big or clever,
You just work out all the little parts, then stick them back together,
And now you’ve got the basics nailed, you won’t get stuck again
On words like “Donaudampfschifffahrtsgesellschaftskapitän”!

 

©️ Nina Parmenter 2018

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