Stiff Boogie – A Poem

Why do I always find

It so difficult to dance?

Disco, foxtrot, cha-cha…

I’m afraid there is no chance!


Oh, I can do a pirouette

And slide across the floor,

But of the splits in heels

I’m really not so sure!


I begin to stiffen up

When I step on the dance floor

And feeling all self-concious

I scan for the back door.


People are blocking the exit

So my heart begins to race

I waste more time by pretending

I need to tie my shoe lace.


I do a stiff boogie

As I try to look cool

But back away from the lights

Only to trip over a bar stool.


I grab for something, anything,

To stop me falling on my back

But my hand finds a poor souls waistband

And my fingers slide into their crack!


I quickly withdraw my hand

Continue to stumble around,

But they punch me in the face

And I fall unconcious to the ground.


Once I’m able to crawl

Back to the back door,

Suddenly, saying ‘excuse me’

Doesn’t seem so bad anymore…

Toilet Seat – A Poem

Trying to do my business

As quietly as I can,

I fill the loo with paper

And turn on the fan.



I quickly stand up,

Now that I am finished.




My jeans catch on the seat.

My newfound confidence,



Oh, ground please swallow me up

I should have taken more care.

Now everybody knows

What I was doing in there!

I Think I’ve Got Wind – A Poem

I should have soaked those dried beans

Instead of eating those that were tinned –

I think I’ve got wind.


Now’s not the best time

To be bum-chinned

It’s just a reminder

That I have got wind.


Would you stop telling me

That I have sinned?

I can’t control my wind.


I could do with being a fish

One that is double-finned

So I could quickly swim away.

There’s nothing more embarrassing than my wind.

Take Me – A Poem

“Ooo, it’s such a very

hot day”, I think.

All of this warm weather’s

Driving me to the brink!


Relieved to leave the metal box

That is my car,

I run for shelter in Tesco’s

Which seems so very far.


I’ve got a splinter in my thumb

So first search for some tweezers,

But then remember the frozen isle

With all those nice cold freezers…


“TAKE ME!”, I yell at the coldness

Upon reaching there.

Nervous customers stare at me

But I really do not care!


I let out another yell

The same as before,

Until security guards drag me out

Into the scorching sun once more.

Fruit Picker – A Poem

I walk around my village

With my fruit picker,

When the sky begins to darken

And I see the street lamp flicker.


I make my way to my neighbour’s orchard

Where I hope to find an apple.

I pass the church, the pub, the school

And the graveyard of the old chapel.


I reach the wall that surrounds the trees,

It’s only as high as my waist.

I spy several ripe, crunchy apples inside

And just can’t wait to have a taste!


I whip out my handy fruit picker

And lean precariously over the wall.

Flick, flick goes my wrist,

I’m a bit off balance, I hope I don’t fall!


I’m slower than usual tonight,

I need to pick quicker, quicker.

I don’t want to have to resort to

Buying even one with a supermarket sticker!


I actually have an orchard of my own,

But all the fruit is hard and bitter.

The skins on these are irresistably crisp

Whereas on mine they are a lot thicker.


Pick, pick, pick

That should do the trick!

My fruit picker’s full the the brim,

No more need for me to nick, nick!


I tip the contents inside

My basket made of wicker,

Which I cover with a big tea towel

To also hide my fruit picker.

That’s for me to know, and you to find out – A Poem

Where have you put the fire extinguisher?

The oven’s been playing up lately,

It should be moved to the kitchen

If we want to live more safely.

That’s for me to know, and you to find out.


I’m late for my hospital appointment,

Where did you put the car key?

If I’m too late, I will have to pay a fee.

That’s for me to know, and you to find out.


My favourite song is on the radio,

Where is my hearing aid?

It is not very often

That I hear it being played.

That’s for me to know, and you to find out.


If In doubt, Let It Out!

Standing on the grass,

The rain pattering on my head

I feel an uncomfortable feeling,

So attempt to cross my legs.


Why do these things happen

At the most inappropriate times?

Like at the funeral I’m in now,

Just as the church bell chimes.


I tense my gluteus maximus.

My back passage starts expanding,

My face begins to redden as I inch

Away from where my friend is standing.


There’s just no holding it in,

So feeling like a little kid,

I think “if in doubt, let it out!”

So that’s just what I did!

Bathtime Slips – A Poem

I have begun to feel quite afraid

Which I never used to, at all!

My bath has become very slippy

So I’m afraid I will slip, trip or fall!


I came by a “firm-hold” bath mat,

Though it makes me feel rather old.

‘Twas on a cut-out aimed at the elderly

And I couldn’t resist its resistance to mould!


It has a spongy exterior,

With special, secure suction caps.

This should relieve my anxiety

When I bend to reach for the taps!


I chose the transparent option

It’s subtle and will blend in more.

Rushing to put it in place,

I prepare for rubber duck galore!


Deciding to play it safe

I first try it sitting down,

I wiggle my buttocks from side to side,

Though my smile turns into a frown.


Something here is very wrong –

I quickly get to my feet.

Looking over my shoulders, I find

It didn’t make a very good seat!


The suckers are glued to my bum –

I’d placed the mat upside down

Vigorous tugging won’t even release them

I must look like a right clown!

Roger’s Food Stores – A Poem

This is a tasty orange

Suck, suck…

My pip pouch will be empty

With a bit of luck!


I finger the string around my neck

And pull the pouch into view.

There are three old pips inside

But never mind, it will still do.


I leap off the sofa

And pucker up my lips,

I spit for the last time

Adding to today’s pile of pips.


I smile to myself.

I head for the cellar

To find what I sought

Oh, I’m such a happy fella!


Here I keep many tins and cans

I call it my personal  beanery,

For there are only beans inside –

Red kidney, black-eyed, canellini…


Sometimes I must count them all

To make sure I don’t run out,

But there are clearly plenty of each today

I can see, without a doubt!

Bladder Man – A Poem

He comes in the night

While you’re fast asleep,

My windows are shut tight –

He’s nothing but a creep!


He fiddles with the latches

And brings with him, a stick.

It’s difficult to sleep at night

After what happened to poor old Nick!


If you hear a “snap!”,

You know that he’s inside;

His rubber glove is on –

Time to get up and hide!


He’ll put your bladder on his stick

If you stay where you are,

So be sure to cover your pelvis

Or you won’t be going far!


This poem is based completely on a nightmare I had as a child.