Busy People

How do you amuse two people
Who sit in an office all day?
Write them a poem about what they do
Then read it and hear what they say

Judy sits in reception
With the phone plugged into her ear
She takes it out just occasionally
So that what I say she can hear

The phone, it never stops ringing
Red lights, bells and buzzers all day
I think her ears work independently
To hear what others might say

With the phone plugged into her left ear
The other must work like a scanner
Sweeping the room to hear what is said
And if so in what kind of manner

Andrea sits right beside Judy
Typing four to the seventh power
Sixteen thousand three hundred and eight four
Letters she type to the hour

They are both two very nice people
Very busy at work every day
I always drop in, say "hello" when I come
And "good bye" when I go on my way

 

 

Don't forget to disinfect
And rinse the smells away

Don't forget to wash the floor
And keep me spick and span

Don't forget that dog ends
Do not go down the pan

 

But to make a nest behind The Grange
Where she laid nine eggs and all free range

The duck was watched with a very close eye
And we tiptoed quietly as we passed her by

Now one of the teachers saw them hatch
Nine little ducklings, what a batch

He tweaked his beard and scratched his head
Called some students and to them said

"Come over here and have a look
We'll take these ducklings to the brook

One of the caretakers looked on too
Was it a circus or maybe a Zoo ?

To the caretaker I heard him say
"Grab that duckling and walk this way

A box for the last one, cor, what a lark
Running after the others into the park

The duck waddled after with a very loud quack
They stopped all the traffic, there's no turning back

They climbed the railings without a falter
Now ducklings and duck are safe in the water

 

Half Left, Right

My feet are very tired
So I'm putting them to bed
They need a nice long holiday
That's what the Doctor said

My left foot is nearly better
And I'm limping very well
I've found a pair of shoes that fit
So no one else can tell

One day I'll maybe get to walk
A little bit faster than slow
But just for now it's full on the right
And half on the left to go

Sippin

Just one drink and my legs are unstable
On my second I'm under the table
With just one sip more
I'll be flat on the floor
And then I'll be rendered unable.

 

House of commons

Our house is full of useful things
Hairless brooms and uncoiled springs

Half used batteries and bits of wire
Old fashioned plugs and half a plier

Elastic bands that have lost their stretch
Used up pads with no room for a sketch

Draws full of nails and rusty screws
Piles of papers on yesterday's news

A wind up gramophone, a ten inch disc
A food processor with only one whisk

An armchair that is minus one leg
Propped up by an empty old keg

A table with the top worn away
One has to eat one's food off a tray

Paint tins empty on the shelf
After somebody thought he'd do it himself

A swivel chair that has lost it's twist
An old dart board and the darts that missed

A bike with one pedal and a flat back tire
An ancient plugless electric fire

Broken door locks that have no keys
Left-handed golf clubs and right -handed tees

A camel stool without a head
A one eared cat that sits on the bed

The door bell works, but never rings
Our house is full of useful things

The Vicar, he made some marmalade
To sell at his garden fete
He was in a bit of a hurry because
He'd left thing a little late

He used a large pressure cooker
To get the job done really fast;
When the cooking time was over he said;
"Some marmalade at last"

He removed the weight from the nozzle
Without releasing the pressure;
Marmalade stuck to the ceiling
In a unique and unusual measure

He stood looking up for a moment or two
In a rather disturbed curiosity
As marmalade squeezed through the nozzle
At an exceedingly high velocity

It slid down the walls and over the stove
And slithered into the grill
When his wife came into the kitchen
The pitch of her voice was quite shrill

Marmalade reigned for several days
One's slippers stuck to the floor
Going from one room to another
One's hands would stick to the door

It was walked from the kitchen into the diner
From the diner to the lounge then the hall
But I think the look on the Vicar's face
Was stuck to my mind most of all

 

 

 

 

 

 

Crystal clear

I've got this little crystal ball
That tells me what's on where
And lots of little secrets
That I don't intend to share

It magnifies a lot of things
And shows me many places
Even tall dark strangers
Of which some have handsome faces

So if you're going to sit with me
And gaze into the crystal
You'll have to concentrate quite hard
Or you might find that you've missed all

To put pen to paper is the worst of my fears
I have tried to avoid it for most of my years

When people make fun they do not understand
That letters wont come from the pen in my hand

This poetry take just ten minutes to write
But to spell it correctly takes nearly all night

My typing's not fast and the letters confuse
Some times they are not the letters I'd choose

I'm not very good with letters you see
My son has to sit and correct them with me

But I kept on trying 'tilI Igot it right
It's been quite a struggle and challenging fight

I've persevered, it's been worth it indeed
Now I write poetry for others to read

So do not despair because help is at hand
The teachers who've helped me have made me feel grand

P.S.
Thank you to the adult education system
I now have a City and Guilds for Word Power
And a great deal more confidence

Chaos of Noise

I like to sing but I can't dance
And I like to clap my hands
I'll listen for hours to Mozart
And I love those rocking bands

I like to play my electric guitar
In overdrive and distortion
Making music from chaos of noise
And putting it in proportion

I play my piano badly
And the tunes come out plonk plink
My keyboard is more harmonic
And the notes linger longer I think

Some times I play my harmonica
But I need a lot of puff
And I do not think that you would like
To hear this kind of stuff

So I'll sit at home and do my thing
Where no one else can hear
Just creating from chaos of noise
Until music meets the ear