My poems are often short and rarely serious.
I like haikus and rhyming couplets the best.
My brother is allergic to nuts They make his face go big It always makes me laugh so much So this is what I did I put cashews in his shoes I put chestnuts on his chest I put pistachios Right up his nose With a slice of lemon zest Well he wasn’t happy at…
If I was still a twelve year old Life would be much sillier And also I think loving you Would not be paedophilia
I have a pet husky dog Who’s always in a rush I put him in the blender Turned it on and shouted ‘Mush!’
I call her in the morning I call her every day I call her quite a lot of things I’m not allowed to say
Whinnie the Pooh was sat on the loo, Thinking ‘Something feels funny. I’ve gone all icky, And it’s coming out sticky, I shouldn’t have eaten all that honey.
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it’s nan on the roof again.
Everything has worked out fine, You broke my heart, So I broke your spine.
Every time I go upstairs I get a funny feeling, That this house would be so much better if we had a ceiling. It gets so bad that sometimes I just sit and laugh, At how I also get a shower when i’m sitting in the bath.
While walking through a field in Kent, I happened upon a fortune teller’s tent. So there I stopped and changed my path, I went inside just for a laugh. There she sat, in all her jewels, Ready to rip off tourist fools. She told me “Sit!” and so I did, And handed over fourteen quid.…
If you want me to feel unwell, Get me an album by Adele.
First she stole a kiss from me, Then she stole my heart. Then she stole my keys, And drove off in my car.
The spider said to the fly, I simply can’t understand why, They think that i’m scary, just cos i’m hairy, When really i’m such a nice guy. The fly agreed with a sigh, you have the same problem as I, They do nasty things, like pull of my wings, Just to see if I die.…
She’s a pain in the bum, But then she’s our mum, And that’s what mums are for. When I was young I was told, You can’t do that till your older. Well now i’m older, And I never do what i’m told. And there’s mud on the floor.
You’ll have lots of fun, with the girl called Yvonne, Cos really she’s not very fussy. She’s a terrible flirt, who’ll lift up her skirt, And show everybody her stamp collection! (well, you’ve got to lick it before you stick it in)
Have you ever been, on a putting green, Whilst wearing your mother’s clothes? Miseed the ball, Had an unlucky fall, And the club lodged up your nose.
Here she comes. There she goes. Where is she going. Nobody knows. Is she going home, To another. A lover One who will make everything alright. Is she going home to him tonight. Is she going back, From whence she came. Going back to live her life again. Making new mistakes from which she will…
Pity the man that stands on the doorstep, Waiting for someone to answer the door that he hasn’t knocked. His feet are cold, His hands are numb, But truth be told, There’s worse to come. Pity the man that sits in his armchair, Not bothering to answer a door that has not been knocked. His…