Poems and Verses

The Tyneside Tattooist

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 11:03:51 +0000

Aa don't suppose yis aall realise it but d'ye knaa what Aa'm is?
Aa'm the only Tyneside Tattooist in captivity...

Aa'm the ace of my profession. It's a smaall one, Aa confess,
'Cos tattooin' is a most exclusive art.
Aa'm the Rembrandt o' the needle, see me adverts in the press,
Write for catalogue, post free, with coloured chart.

From the NAAFI club at Chatham, te the stews of Singapore,
Ye'll find plenty o' examples of my skill.
Aa've done Admirals, and Commodores and lower decks galore,
And of well-contented clients, Aa've had me fill.

Now, from the sweet and tender passions, ye'd imagine Aa'd be free,
But one winter's neet in 1954:
Aaa was closing me consultin' room, te gan an have me tea,
When blessed fate came knockin' at me door.

She was gorgeous, but enormous!... what a vision of delight!
At the sight of her, me poor heart skipped a beat.
She wanted iss te tattoo 'er, startin' off that very neet....
Every inch of her, from windpipe, doon te feet!

Just imagine Michaelangelo, The way he must o' stared
At that Sistine Chapel, Then ye'll realize
What a prospect Aa was faced with, all alone and unprepared,
My designs on a person of her size!

Sivven weeks Aa worked on Mabel, Aa did everythin' Aa knew;
Inte me reppetory Aa put me heart and soul.
Aa did anchors, true lovers' knots, lovin' hearts entwined,
Robins in the snow and Mispah on a scroll.

Aa did snakes, a bunch o' roses, a lobster on a plate,
Mr Chorchill, and a view of Beachy Heed.
Oh the acres o' that woman that Aa had te contemplate,
Why, Aa finished up each evenin' nigh half deed!

When Aa finished, she looked gorgeous, and Aa was all agog!
What a masterpiece of colour and design:
And thinkin' te use her as a human catalogue
Aa went on me knees and asked her... te be mine!

But she torned iss doon completely, it was brutal, it was harsh,
Or as Mr Shakespeare says... "Aye, what a rub!"
She got married three weeks later tiv a chap wiv a moustache,
And he exhibits her at Blackpool in a Club.

Still, Aa've got this satisfaction, though me wife she may not be,
She's a livin' testimonial te my fame.
'Cos the blokes that admire her, knaa the work was done by me,
'Cos Aa signed her... across her bottom.... WI' ME NAME!

Poems:

Funny Poems

Ramp Ceremony in the Snow

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 04:47:29 +0000

Ranks of soldiers flank the way
to honour the fallen who leave here today.
On a frozen airfield, white with snow
we wait in silence for the coffins to show.

The cold cuts through us, we feel its bite
but our thoughts are with those who have died in this fight.
From behind we hear a muffled command,
we salute our comrades, united we stand.

In our moment of grief we are proud of those men,
but pray that we won’t ever have to stand here again.
They slowly pass by with barely a sound,
just the crunch of feet on the frosty ground.

Their flag draped crates are placed with great care
in the transport plane that’ll soon take to the air.
We’ve paid our respects, our ceremony ends,
but the grief’s just begun for their families and friends.

Rest in peace those men of the 93ème RAM, French Army, who gave their lives on 20th January 2012.

BJ Lewis
Kabul
February 2012

Poems:

War Poems

My first Valentine

Thu, 09 Feb 2012 07:56:39 +0000

You changed my world with a blink of an eye
That is something that I can not deny
You put my soul from worst to best
That is why I treasure you my "guchu"the dearest

You just don't know what you have done for me
You even pushed me to the best that I can be
You really are an angel sent from above
To take care of me and shower with love

When I'm with you I will not cry even a single a tear
And your touch have chased away all of my fear
You have given me a life that I could live worthwhile
It is even better everytime you smile

It so magical those things you've made
To bring back my faith that almost fade
Now my life is a dream come true
It all began when I was loved by you

Now I have found what I am looking for
It's you and your love and nothing more
Co'z you have given me this feeling of contentment
In my life something I've never felt

I wish I could talk 'til the end of night
But now I'm losing my sight
So I'll end by the line you already know
"I LOVE YOU" more than what I could show

Poems:

Love Poems

Recession

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:11:08 +0000

There was a young man in the bank,
Who thought it a wonderful prank,
To purchase sub-prime,
He thought it sublime,
That stupid young man in the bank.

There was an old man in the city,
For brains he had none, what a pitty.
To buy his estate,
His bonus did take,
That stupid old man in the city.

The public had little to spend,
Recession it wouldn't soon end.
So they saved what they had,
And thought it was bad,
The public with nothing to spend.

There was a small business so broke,
Of profits it had little hope,
The victory was hollow,
When told it could borrow,
The poor little business so broke.

The government man was still rich,
And the bankers in their little niche,
The poor are still broke,
They have little hope,
With bankers they'd gladly all switch.

No matter the promises wrote,
Or how often the public all vote,
Life's still a bind,
And I think you will find,
The lottery's our only hope.

The Machine

admin — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 16:07:07 +0000

WINNER OF POETRY COMPETITION ENDING JAN 2012

I went to the doctors the other day
Told him me boobs were sore
I'm sure there's nothing wrong he said
Have a mammogram just to be sure.

So off I trot to the clinic
When I saw this big machine
The nurse said strip to the waist
Try not to worry it's just routine.

She plonked me boob on a cold slab
And said hold it like that
A heavy plate descended
And squashed me boob flat.

Pain and embarrassment
Was more than I could bear
I didn't feel at all well
But she didn't seem to care.

I felt like a prisoner
Trapped in a device
Me boob like a piece of wood
Squeezed in a vice.

I felt bruised and battered
I wanted it over and done
She said that's all for this side
Now we'll do the other one.

At last she released me
And then to my dismay
I'd gone in there a 38c
And come out a 34a.

Now if I ever meet the man
Who invented this contraption
I'll squash his private parts in it
And put him out of action...

So all you ladies that hasn't had one
Please do not have any fear
For this big ugly machine
Saves thousands of lives each year...

Piddling Pete

Sun, 05 Feb 2012 11:01:56 +0000

A famous dog once came to town
Known to his friends as Pete
His pedigree was ten yards long
His looks were hard to beat

And as he trotted down the road
'twas beautiful to see
His work at every corner
Every post and every tree

He never missed a land mark
He never missed a post
For piddling was his masterpiece
And piddling pleased him most

The city dogs stood looking on
In deep and jealous rage
To see this little country dog
The piddler of his age

They smelt his efforts one by one
They smelt him two by two
But noble Pete in high disdain
Stood still 'til they were through

Then when they'd smelt him everywhere
The praise for him ran high
But when one smelt him underneath
Pete piddled in his eye

Just then to show these city dogs
He didn't care a damn
He strolled into the grocers shop
And piddled on the ham

He piddled on the cornflakes
He piddled on the floor
And when the grocer threw him out
He piddled up the door

Behind him all the city dogs
Debated what to do
They'd hold a piddling carnival
The hoop they'd put him through

They showed him all the piddling posts
They knew about the town
And off they set with many a wink
To wear the stranger down

But Pete was with them all the way
With vigour and with vim
A thousand piddles more or less
Were all the same to him

And on and on went noble Pete
As tireless as a windmill
And very soon those city dogs
Were piddled to a standstill

Then Pete an exhibition gave
Of all the ways to piddle
With double drips and fancy flips
And now and then a dribble

The city dogs said farewell Pete
Your piddling did defeat us
But no one ever put them wise
That Pete... had diabetes.

Poems:

Funny Poems

With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm

Sun, 29 Jan 2012 10:59:57 +0000

In the Tower of London large as life,
The Ghost of Anne Boleyn walks they declare.
For Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
Until he made the headsman bob her hair!
Ah, yes, he did her wrong, long years ago
And, she comes up at night to tell him soooo!

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

She comes to haunt King Henry,
She means to give him 'what for',
Gadzook! She's going to tell him off
For having split her gore,
And, just in case the headsman
Wants to give her an encore,
She has her head tucked underneath her arm.

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her had tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

Along the draughty corridors,
For miles and miles she goes.
She often catches cold, poor thing,
It's cold there when it blows.
And it's awfully awkward for the Queen,
To have to blow her nose,
With her head tucked underneath her arm.

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour!

Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread,
For all his pals and gals and ghostly crew.
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread
Then in comes Anne Boleyn to 'queer the do!'
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop!
And Henry cries, "Don't drop it in the soup!"

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

The sentries think that it's a football,
That she carries in.
And when they've had a few they shout,
'Is Ars'nal going to win?'
They think it's Alec James,
Instead of poor old Ann Boleyn,
With her head tucked underneath her arm.

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

One night she caught King Henry
He was in the canteen bar
Said he, "Are you Jane Seymore,
Anne Boleyn or Catherine Parr?"
"How the sweet san fairy ann,
Do I know who you are?"
With your head tucked underneath your arm!

With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the midnight hour.

R P Weston and Bert Lee

Poems:

Funny Poems

My Word You Do Look Queer

Sun, 22 Jan 2012 10:56:45 +0000

I've been very poorly but now I feel prime,
I've been out today for the very first time.
I felt like a lad as I walked down the road,
Then I met Old Jones and he said, 'Well I'm blowed!'
My word you do look queer!

My word you do look queer!
Oh, dear! You look dreadful: you've had a near shave,
You look like a man with one foot in the grave.'
I said, 'Bosh! l'm better; it's true I've been ill.'
He said, 'I'm delighted you're better, but still,
I wish you'd a thousand for me in your will.
My word, you do look queer!'

That didn't improve me, it quite put me back,
Still, I walked farther on, and I met Cousin jack.
He looked at me hard and he murmured,'Gee whiz!
It's like him! It can't be! It isn't! It is!
By gosh! Who'd have thought it? Well, well, I declare!
I'd never have known you except for your hair.
My word you do look queer!

My word you do look queer!
Your cheeks are all sunk and your colour's all gone,
Your neck's very scraggy, still you're getting on.
How old are you now? About fifty, that's true.
Your father died that age, your mother did too.
Well, the black clothes I wore then'll come in for you.
My word! You do look queer!'

That really upset me; I felt quite cast down,
But I tried to buck up, and then up came old Brown.
He stared at me hard, then he solemnly said,
'You shouldn't be out, you should be home in bed.
I heard you were bad, well I heard you were gone.
You look like a corpse with an overcoat on.
'My word you do look queer!

My word you do look queer!
You'd best have a brandy before you drop dead.'
So, pale as a sheet, I crawled in the'King's Head',
The barmaid sobbed,'Oh you poor fellow,' and then
She said, 'On the slate you owe just one pound ten,
You'd better pay up, we shan't see you again.
My word you do look queer!'

My knees started knocking, I did feel so sad.
Then Brown said, 'Don't die in a pub, it looks bad,'
He said, 'Come with me, I'll show you what to do.
Now I've got a friend who'll be useful to you.'
He led me to Black's Undertaking Depot,
And Black, with some crepe round his hat said, 'Hello,
'My word you do look queer!

My word you do look queer!
Now we'll fix you up for a trifling amount.
Now what do you say to a bit on account?'
I said,'I'm not dying.'He said,'Don't say that!
My business of late has been terribly flat,
But I'm telling my wife she can have that new hat!
My word, you do look queer!'

I crawled in the street and I murmured,'I'm done.'
Then up came Old Jenkins and shouted,'By gum!'
'My word you do look well!

My word you do look well!
You're looking fine and in the pink!'
I shouted, 'Am I?... Come and have a drink!
You've put new life in me, I'm sounder than a bell.
By gad! There's life in the old dog yet.
My word I do feel well!'

by Bob Weston & Bert Lee

Poems:

Funny Poems

When You Are Old

Thu, 19 Jan 2012 17:00:24 +0000

When You Are Old

WHEN you are old and gray and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face among a crowd of stars.

When You Are Old by W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)

Poems:

Love Poems

Coat

Sun, 15 Jan 2012 16:59:14 +0000

Coat

Sometimes I have wanted
to throw you off
like a heavy coat.

Sometimes I have said
you would not let me
breathe or move.

But now that I am free
to choose light clothes
or none at all

I feel the cold
and all the time I think
how warm it used to be.

Coat by Vicki Feaver

Poems:

Love Poems