A POEM OF A SORT



Oh, what sins the Serpent set,
When unto Eve that fruit he let;
And Eve, so innocent of 'South',
Did put that fruit into her mouth,
And sucked until its juice came forth,
While Adam's lodestone pointed North;
"And now", said Eve, "do take a bite,"
"To see what's wrong, and what is right."

"What's right," said he, "is size and shape,"
"What's wrong is that you can't escape"
"The fact that serpents can all bend,"
"Themselves in knots to reach their end,"
"But El ensured this fruit, though long,"
"Was still too short to reach my tongue."

"Oh, hell," said Eve, "that means henceforth,"
"You'll have to forgo pointing North,"
"And stick to pointing South instead,"
"Lest jealousy should raise it's head,"

"But that's no use," poor Adam wailed,
"I've tried my South before, and failed!"

"Oh, bugger it!" snapped Eve, "that's daft!"
"You can't expect to bend that shaft,"
"Around those two huge figs I see,"
"You've picked and tried to hide from me."

"Oh, God," sighed Adam, "Here we go,"
"Mistrust, already, I don't know -"
"What has got into you today?"
"A cucumber," Eve tried to say,

But Adam didn't hear, for he
Had found a most unusual tree,
"Good God," said he, and his heart raced,
As seeing Eve, he proudly placed,
A pomegranate in her hand,
"I think I've found the tree that's banned,"
He said, "Let's taste it and find out,"
"Just what that ban was all about."

And so, though Adam thought divine,
The pomegranate's taste of wine,
And found it good for all his needs,
Eve had some problems with the seeds,
Which seemed entirely without number:
She still preferred his cucumber!

Grumpy Old Man



What do you see nurses? . . . . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . .. . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . .. A sock or shoe? Who,

resisting or not . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . . you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am. . . . . . As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten . . .. . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters . . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . with wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . .. a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . . . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . .. . my wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . . . . shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . .. and the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
Tis jest to make old age . . . .. . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living . . . .. . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few . . . . . gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . see ME!!


Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside
without looking at the young soul within. You will all, one day, be there, with me too!

Fifty Shades of Grey


My missus bought a paperback
In Asda, Saturday.
I had a look inside the bag -
'Twas "Fifty Shades of Grey".
 
Well I just left her to it, see,
And went off up to bed.
An hour later, she appeared
Oh, the sight filled me with dread.

In her hand she held a rope,
The other, held a whip.
She brandished them around a bit
And then began to strip.
 
Well, forty years ago
I might have had a peek.
But Doris hasn't weathered well -
She's sixty-eight next week.
 
Watching Doris bump and grind
Couldn't be much grimmer.
And things progressed from bad to worse -
She toppled off her Zimmer .
 
She struggled back up to her feet
A good half hour later,
Put her teeth back in and said
That I must dominate her.
 
Now if you knew our Doris, see,
You'd know just why I cringed.
I'd been two months in traction, 'cos
My hips and knees unhinged.
 
She stood there nude. All naked, like,
Bent forward quite a bit 
and, jumping back in fright, I went
And stood on her left t*t.
 
 Doris screamed, her teeth shot out,
My word. What HAD I done ?
She moaned and groaned then shouted out
"Step on the OTHER one"
 
Well reader, I can tell no more
About what occurred that day.
Suffice to say, my dark brown hair,
Turned fifty shades of grey.
 
Black and blue, battered too,
With wanton, wild perversion,
We decided that a night of sin
Was scarce worth such exertion.
 
Thank Heavens she has binned the book
And peace reigns, like before.
She's head to toe in winceyette
And back to back, we snore

My Sat Nav

I have a little Satnav
It sits there in my car
A Satnav is a driver's friend
It tells you where you are
I have a little Satnav
I've had it all my life
It's better than the normal ones
My Satnav is my wife

It gives me full instructions
Especially how to drive
"You're doing thirty five"
It tells me when to stop and start
And when to use the brake
And tells me that it's never ever
Safe to overtake

It tells me when a light is red
And when it goes to green
It seems to know instinctively
Just when to intervene
It lists the vehicles just in front
And all those to the rear
And taking this into account
It specifies my gear.

I'm sure no other driver
Has so helpful a device
For when we leave and lock the car
It still gives its advice
It fills me up with counselling
Each journey's pretty fraught
So why don't I exchange it
And get a quieter sort?

Ah well, you see, it cleans the house,
Makes sure I'm properly fed,
It washes all my shirts and things
And keeps me warm in bed!
Despite all these advantages
And my tendency to scoff,
I only wish that now and then
I could turn the damn thing off!

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