Category Archives: It’s a joke!

indignant breakfast

me wus , i profess, perfectly happy

as bread

but instead me gets sliced and stuffed

under a red hot grill til i’m toast!


wusn’t it ‘nuff me got pummeled ‘n punched

when me wus just a bit of dough

— me didn’t need that!

and unceremoniously shoved in an oven

— me actually loved that!

i rise under torture a beaut!

but toast?!

an insult

even if some like it hot, up to a point, me don’t

aaargh, nearly burnt


ahhhhh, smooth sooth meeee

with butter and jam


what’s this…?

teeth! struth!

i can’t believe it!

what new hell is……


not a haiku


NaPoWriMo day 20 prompt

write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. It could be a favorite food of yours, or maybe one you feel conflicted about. I feel conflicted about Black Forest Cake, for example. It always looks so pretty in a bakery window, and I want to like the combination of cherries and chocolate . . . but I don’t. But how does the cake feel about it?

The Fowl and the Bully-rat

NaPoWriMo day 26


The Foul and the Bully-rat were put out to sea

On a manky-scant wee boat

They were thrown some spitballs, catcalls tar and feathers for good measure

Wrapped up in a cautionary note


The Fowl growled up to the stars above

With a sound like a small chainsaw

You, Bully-rat, you fat hunk of shite

Gimme room in this boat, oar,

I swear

I swear

I’ll haul your arse out!



Said Bully to Fowl, you evil great bleep

How charmingly sweet you bleat!

We’re in this together, you’d better not blether

Oar, I’ll cut your throat while you sleep!


They floated this way for a year and a day

To the land where the spliff trees grew

And there in the woods, a beautiful woman stood

They puffed up their chests and and jousted their jests

All to impress their importance upon an isolated female

Soon to be in their thrall. What a boon!

But she saw straight away they were

Up to no good

Up to no good

Though they begged so sweetly for fun and for food.


They warbled, aw, darlin’ It’s probably you’re also hungry for a fine feast of a man , we’re a bit wobbly but

honey girl, would you give us a whirl as a nibble

Supply us some vitals and a sniff of your spliffs, we’ll all bob along well, we can tell

But the woman was wise to all of their lies

She’s smelt them coming for miles and miles

So, she called on the conch to the other girls of her tribe, and they had them split-toasted in a flash, for their ladies lunch.

And hand in hand they danced

By the light of the moon

But the light of the moon

Full-bellied and stoned, they pranced

They licked the fat from their fingers and runcible spoons be damned!


btw April 26, 2021

parody picked from the teeth of the Owl and The Pussy-cat, loosely and unabashed.

And now for our (optional) prompt. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a parody. Besides being fun, writing parodies can be a great way to hone your poetic skills – particularly your sense of rhyme and sound, as you try to mimic the form of an existing poem while changing the content. Just find a poem – or a song – that has always annoyed you, and write an altered, silly version of it. Or, alternatively, find a poem with a very particular rhyme scheme or form, and use that scheme/form as the basis for a poem that mocks something else.

If you’d like to get some inspiration, you might consider some of the poems that Lewis Carroll included in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, which parody the moralistic verse of Isaac Watts. For example, “The Crocodile” is a send-up of Watts’ “How Doth the Little Busy Bee,” while “Tis the Voice of the Lobster” is a parody of Watts’ poem “The Sluggard.” Or, for a briefer and more whimsical poem, consider “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat,” which is a parody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea 
   In a beautiful pea-green boat, 
They took some honey, and plenty of money, 
   Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
The Owl looked up to the stars above, 
   And sang to a small guitar, 
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love, 
    What a beautiful Pussy you are, 
         You are, 
         You are! 
What a beautiful Pussy you are!” 

Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl! 
   How charmingly sweet you sing! 
O let us be married! too long we have tarried: 
   But what shall we do for a ring?” 
They sailed away, for a year and a day, 
   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows 
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood 
   With a ring at the end of his nose, 
             His nose, 
             His nose, 
   With a ring at the end of his nose. 

“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling
Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

team dad

his favourite sport

was one-fingered

in front of the telly

when no-one was watching

it was thought

the private sport

of extracting dried snot

from his double-barrelled slot

for rolling into bullets

to flick into the carpet

was after-dinner entertainment




i catch myself in the intimate act

in odd moments discreetly

plumping for ugly pearls

to tuck into tissue paper

for later


gotta laugh!



not a haiku


ps. i may or may not have picked this up from my dad…..


btw april 15 2021


 think about a small habit you picked up from one of your parents, and then to write a piece that explores an early memory of your parent engaged in that habit, before shifting into writing about yourself engaging in the same habit.

what does this mean?

i’ll offer you bouquets

of butter&daisycups

giggling childishness




Victorian meanings:-

Buttercups = childishness

Daisies = innocence

Glopowrimo / Napowrimo 2020

Our optional prompt for the day is based on the concept of the language of flowers. Have you ever heard, for example, that yellow roses stand for friendship, white roses for innocence, and red roses for love? Well, there are as many potential meanings for flowers as there are flowers. The Victorians were particularly ga-ga for giving each other bouquets that were essentially decoder-rings of meaning. For today, I challenge you to write a poem in which one or more flowers take on specific meanings.