Poetic Therapy!
Bummer
My buttocks have grown little wings,
the result of a number of things,
but primarily my
predilection for pie
and the filthy fulfilment it brings.
I have side-bums that flap like a cape!
I’ve tried Spanx! I’ve tried packaging tape!
Oh, but hope ever springs
that these wings are the things
that my arse-fat will use to escape.
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I am proud to say I’ve made a good number of poetic friends since I started writing, but the first I made was the wonderful Jan Allison. Jan writes some hilariously entertaining poetry, and, like me, does so for joy and therapy.
We’ve had great fun writing a couple of collaborations, but this farty masterpiece is all Jan… and she DOES do the best fart poems!
Silent Butt Deadly
He’d eaten baked beans for his brunch
Then onion rings he did munch
He built up so much gas
Which he then had to pass
The odour it sure packed a punch
Poor Michael was quite broken hearted –
His fiancé asked if he’d farted
To disguise his foul flatus
He stood by sweet clematis
Then into the bushes he darted
His fiancé said ‘you silly goose
It’s okay to let little farts loose
You should alter your diet
It’s easy, just try it
There’s no need to become a recluse’!
© Jan Allison 2018
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Photo by Darius Bashar on Unsplash
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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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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