Nonsense Numbers

Word Power

The chaos of letters
And their complications
Make up the words
Forming communications

Printed in large
Or written in small
Our alphabet twenty
-Six letters in all

It's very confusing
When words sound the same
But the letters are different
It muddles one's brain

Sometimes you need two
And use only one
And occasionally use them
To make up a pun

In book they are written
By mouth they are heard
From the chaos of letters
Comes the power of a word

Invisible

I've made myself invisible
I really don't know how
I mixed this pink concoction
That you see me poring now

I do not know what chemicals
I used to make it pink
But now I'm quite translucent
And I find it hard to think

I have no mirror image
And no shadow at my feet
My hands miss when I clap them
And it's awkward when I eat

I've mixed another potion
And I've made it strong and clear
I hope it turns me back again
Ah yes ! I see me here

I think they call it whisky
And it seems I drank too much
'Cause today I'm not so see-through
But my head does hurt to touch

Ming ?

I have a little Chinese pot
With a beautiful design
I fill it with little flowers
And I think it looks just fine

It sits upon the mantel
With dignity and grace
With little Chinese markings
Very neatly in their place

It's just a tiny, little pot
When you flick it, it goes ching
The label says "Made in China''
And I think it's quite Char ming

Metamorphosis

I found a young frog on my footpath last night
It must have jumped out of my pond
I placed it in the palm of my hand
And looked into it's eyes and beyond

I wanted to give it a kiss on the lips
But I thought it would turn into a prince
Somehow a frog is much more endearing
So I spurned this idea with a wince

I then thought my goodness, it might be a toad
Who'd jumped out of a marsh or a ditch
So I thought it much better to let it go back
Before it turned into a witch

Now daylight has dawned and the pond's full of fish;
The frogs and the toads are all hiding
My imaginative thoughts of a prince and a witch
In no one shall I be confiding

The bubbly

I'm writing this poem that might concern you
From a colleague of mine at branch 32

For my colleague had sales more than enough
To win her a bottle of bubbly stuff

So could you please look and see what went wrong
Before she does a dance and a song

It was on a circular printed in black and white
That my colleague had won this bubbly alright

I read it my self and I said "hip hooray"
So please can you send her a bottle today

She had multiple sales in week number nine
And cried out with joy "this bubbly is mine"

She has not received it, it has not come through
So I've put pen to paper, now what can you do?

Glowing

The moon was full, the sky was dark,
Twas ten o'clock at night
The beast rose up and went out side
To give some one a fright

He roamed the streets for an hour or so
'Til hair grew on his arms
When his claws protruded and his teeth changed to fangs
He put on all his charms

He lurked about in narrow streets
Until a beautician came by
When he pounced from out of the shadows
She let out a little cry

"I'm a friendly beast" the werewolf said
"And I'd like to get acquainted
My fingernails are very long
So I thought I'd have them painted"

She painted his nails in day-glow green
While the moon was full in the sky
He chopped and changed from man to beast
Each time a cloud passed by

"I do not want your blood tonight",
The scraggy monster said
I had some fish and chips for tea
So I'll have a beer instead".

With glowing nails he combed his hair
And said "my appearance looks newer
The moon has gone, it's nearly dawn;
I must return to the sewer."

Home décor

It was just a small area that had to be papered
The place where a fire had been
The surround and the hearth had been taken away
The wall plastered was now nice and clean

I bought some wallpaper to match with the rest
And I tore it to make it blend in
But I tore just too much and it all over lapped
What a sight and it's now in the bin

I then started again just tearing one side
And worked the paste on really well
It stuck too the wall and slid in just right
It was going to look good I could tell

The next piece of paper I laid on the floor
Working the past deep and wide
I stood there in wonder, "Where was the Pattern?"
I had pasted it on the wrong side

I turned over the paper with face side down
And pasted the back some more
But alas it could not be put it onto the wall
For the paper was stuck to the floor

I managed to free it from floor and newspapers
Then I transfer it on to the wall
It slipped into place the seams neat and straight
Then my feet were stuck up toes and all

I pulled the newspaper from the soles of my feet
And finished the job with great ease
It took half an hour to unglue my toes
My thoughts " no more papering please!

It was then I decided to paint the floor black
In the place where the hearth had been
It looked very smart and reasonably tidy
And it just seamed to finish the scene

About two hours later I inspected the wall
To admire my work, so quaint
And oh! Guess what? My feet they were bare
And both were stuck to the paint

With spirits and scraper I prized my feet off
And eventually cleaned up the mess
Now under my carpet are two clear footprints
Which shall stay there as part of the dress

Shambles

My office isn't quite a tip
Though very near enough
But having only one large desk
And such a lot of stuff

I have a filing cabinet
Which I think is rather small
And put together with the desk
They don't hold much at all

So dotted round about the floor
Are piles of papers and books
All neatly in their little stacks
Does it matter how it looks?

So long as I can find the phone
To answer people's questions
Or tell them what they need to know
And not make rude suggestions

One day I'll maybe tidy up
For the things I cannot find
But just for now I'll leave it so,
And hope no one will mind

Please be seated

As I entered the college at lunchtime
There were seats all over the lawn
I thought "how super, some where to sit''
As to them children were drawn

Now Mr. Hunt stopped en passant
As though he was stuck to the ground
His chin had dropped an inch or so
And his smiling face had frowned

"I do not believe what I'm seeing''
Said the school's head PE master
"What do you think of the seats?'' I asked
He said "a total disaster''

"Look at the oak tree towering above
With beautiful leaves of green,
The red and blue seats do not contrast
And I think that they spoil the Sean''

I said " cast your eyes on the litter bins
Bolted to every wall
Do they contrast with the oak tree?
No! they're yellow after all''

I said "let's not be too fussy
And think of the money we'll save
We are now in the colourful nineties
And none of us lives in a cave''

When children come from the lower site
And through the gates they enter
They'd like to think they're in college
Not a detention centre

So I think for the sake of lunchtime
The colourful seats should stay
We don't judge a book by it's cover
And they're comfortable seats any way

PS. This poem is dedicated to Greg Hunt
Head of PE Exmouth Community College

Noisy

What is it that drives me
Or gives me the incite
To make bread and butter pudding
At twelve O'clock at night ?

I really do feel sorry
For the chap that lives upstairs
And the students who live right next door
Must think I have no cares

When I start up my food mixer
and all is going right
And I make this dreadful grinding noise
To whip the eggs up light

And when opening the oven
The door, it squeaks so loud
Then some times I forget it
And cause a Smoky cloud

But usually I turn it off
Before it's set alight
My bread and butter pudding
At twelve O'clock at night