▼Guest Poetry Month▼

 

Elfin Safety

Christmas comes but once a year,
Baubles, bubbly and festive cheer,
Turkey, trimmings, red tableware,
Presents prepped with love and care.

But the workers are slacking, taking time off,
Some are on strike, holding placards aloft,
Back to your stations! New toys to be fashioned,
The elves are unhappy, enthusiasm rationed.

Lead in the paint, sharp edges and more,
Elf and Safety infringements galore,
A severe lack of pride from indolent midgets,
Leaves poisoned wee weans, minus some digits.

Here come the polis, trading standards in tow,
Santa's in bother, vicariously liable you know,
The lazy elves snigger as Santa gets jailed,
Click on to Amazon, get your weans' pressies mailed.

A Festive Poem
By Jonathan Dickie

Turkey Dinner

It's Christmas eve, dark and grim

The weather's awfy murky

Down on my luck, got no funds

I decided to steal a turkey

As I ran from the store, pursued by the staff

I heard them behind me, puffin'

"What are you doing with that?" one enquired

"Brussels, potatoes and stuffin'!"

Another Festive Poem

By Jonathan Dickie

Walks Like John Wayne

She gave birth to a baby boy, the biggest there'd ever been
The midwives all remarked that he looked like a healthy teen
Left with a misshaped forehead and a folded over ear
An unfortunate result of forceps delivery, we hear

Journalists attended, as public interest grew
Resulting in a media slot on Loose Women too
With shoulders as wide as Glasgow's River Clyde
It was surprising the birth didn't hurt her
She shed a tear when crowned Woman of the Year
And she got a visit from Norris McWhirter

By Saffron Walden

Brian Brain

(an experimental outcome of leaving a man in a locked room with an angry donkey) 

Say hello to Brian McTavity

He's got a kangaroo loose in his cranial cavity

He's super bright, but you'd never guess

There's paint on his beard and his hair is a mess

The front of his trousers are heavily stained

(what looks like an outline of Africa ingrained)

His teeth are all yellow, his nose is bright red,

Michael Bentine's circus performs on his head

An unmissable oddity walking the street

Making animal noises to all he would meet

Inadvertently scaring innocent weans

Throwing dog turds and screaming at planes

It's cruel but it's funny, nothing could be sadder 

Than a blue light arrival of a turntable ladder

Even Brian must have felt a bit of a fool

Being rescued from a toddler's paddling pool

He can't keep a job despite not being dim

Punctuality being alien to him

He talks like a budgie, but doesn't make sense

He's lacking a filter, and causes offence 

He worked in a library, sorting out books

But became a distraction, drawing weird looks

Oblivious to laughter as he answered the phone 

With a fake foreign accent and nasally tone

Despite all his issues, he's right hale and hearty

A fully paid-up member of a political party

He's going places, soon you will see

Say hello to Brian, your local MP.

By Jonathan Dickie

Foxy Wife

His wife is foxy, so he was told

He didn't quite think that was right

But she's got red hair, not fussy with food

And raids all the dustbins at night.

By Timmy Tominey

The Aussie Topless Barber

Lynsey worked every other day
As a topless barber in Byron Bay
With flyposted adverts in factory loos
The men all came flocking, forming long queues
In the sweltering heat, hot under the collar 
They didn't mind, paying top dollar 
Anxiously waiting their turn in the chair 
Most unconcerned about the cutting of hair
To a private room, where the Bruces would boak,
You see, Lynsey's no Sheila, he's a big sweaty bloke.

By Jonathan Dickie

Marketing Manipulation

Broken bottles and cans

Three rusting vans

A mattress and a bent garden gate

Just some of the things that visitors see

If they stumble into the estate 

The park's even worse

A ditched stolen purse

Its contents obviously gone

Bin bags and tyres, the remnants of fires

And underwear litter the lawn

A syringe and a knife, that took someone's life

A reminder of hardship and woe

Some locals walk by

They scream and they cry

Like extras in a poor zombie show

The authorities declare

Improvements in the air

Marketing men are employed

Yet all is the same, the grime still remains

But to them the past is now void

"We're building a tower!

And there's four trains an hour

Don't miss out, please visit now

Windsor's next door 

They've got a castle and more

Good Morning! Welcome to Slough"

(with apologies to the good people of Slough... all four of you)

By Jonathan Dickie

Bum Rap

Arrested for crimes they didn't commit

Three well-known rappers, taking the hit

Left all alone in cells with no view

Demoralised, and with no court date due

Unwilling for destiny to be left to fate

Snoop 'n' Ice starved, whilst 58.

By Timmy Tominey

The Unhygienic Baker

Boaby the baker made cream cakes for me,

With icing and sprinkles, they went well with tea,

Boaby the baker, what else did he do?

Gave me the runs, cos he kneaded a poo.

By Timmy Tominey

The Drugs Don't Work

This morning when I woke at noon,

I combed my hair with a table spoon,

Put on my poncho in a rush

And cleaned my teeth with the lavvy brush.

Cornflakes and jam, with eggs on top,

And a pint of gravy with fizzy pop,

Then on the bus to meet Bruce Lee,

For my daily fix of LSD.

By Jonathan Dickie

Pollenator Prejudice

Aww, beautiful baby bumble bee

Busily buzzing next to me

Petite, pretty pollenator...

It's a waaaasp!

Buzz off!

By Timmy Tominey

A Cure for Hiccups / A Lesson Learned

A Cure for Hiccups 

I travelled to London to visit Big Ben,

It's really the bell, not the tower, ye ken. 

I stood by it's side, as it lorded over me, 

And soiled my pants, when it loudly struck three. 

***

A Lesson Learned

I travelled to London to visit Big Ben,

Not for the first time (this was again). 

I packed up a bag, it's best to prepare, 

Ear plugs 'n' emergency underwear.

By Jonathan Dickie

It Was Wednesday

I thought it was a Tuesday.
But it wasn't.
It was a Wednesday.

A deep, poetic insight into the human psyche

and its profound relationship with the concept of time in a linear, yet abstract form.

By Elmore Fidget

The Glesga' Gull

I'm feelin' rather peckish
I'll need to eat some grub
I think I'll go to Rolls-R-Us

for a meat-free, cheesy sub.

Aw naw, here comes a massive gull
Swooping down on me
Away ye go ya flying rat
I'm nowhere near the sea.

Your GPS is oot o' sync
The waater's six miles west
Now fly aff hame ya smelly burd
If you know what's best.

Right, that's it! Ya thieving git
Claws aff ma tasty breid
Ya manky brat, I've had enough
You've splatted oan ma heid.

Stop taunting me, ya big balloon
I suppose you think you're funny
You're no' as hard as you make oot
Your stools are affy runny.

I'll sort you oot, I'll get you back
Ya greedy ratty rocket
Prepare to die as you sail high
I've aspirin in ma pocket.

[a poem by Tourettes Timmy, age 9]
Submitted to the Blue Peter Poetry Challenge 2022*
[not shortlisted 😕]

* possibly untrue

By Timmy Tominey

▲Guest Poetry Month▲