Poetry From The Other Side

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poetry From The Other Side is a collection of humour poems.

Submitted: May 08, 2012

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Submitted: May 08, 2012

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"POETRY FROM THE OTHER SIDE"

 

 

Written by

 

(c) Michael Chandler

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CONTENTS

 

 

1. MY BEST FRIENDS NAME IS TONY

2. I’M A ROCK SINGER

3. WHERE IS MY MOBILE PHONE?

4. MY LUCK NUMBER IS TWENTY SEVEN

5. CHRIS IS LATE AGAIN

6. I’VE LOST MY WIFE

7. THE NEWSAGENT

8. COLIN’S LEFT THE LIGHT ON, AGAIN

9. LUNCH FOR TWO

10. MR MEADOW IS BACK IN TOWN

11. TWO AND TWO IS FOUR

12. OUT IN MY GARDEN

13. CAN YOU SMELL IT?

14. LIFE OVER THE EDGE

15. MR PEMBROKE

16. WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?

17. IT’S OVER

18. IT’S JUST STARTED

19. IN THE MIDDLE

20. THE CITY

21. ROSES FOR YOU

22. A NEW LIFE

23. WHAT’S SO SPECIAL ABOUT NORMAN?

24. DOWN AT THE BUILDERS YARD

25. I’M BORED

26. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

27. DO MY TROUSERS LOOK OK?

28. A NICE CUP OF TEA

29. THE VISIT

30. THE MEETING

31. MR AND MRS GREEN

32. MY CAR

33. THE SOUND OF LAUGHTER

34. CRY

35. THE PUNCHLINE

36. THE FIRST DATE

37. ALL AROUND THE XMAS TREE

38. IS HARRY THERE?

39. THE MANSION

40. IN THE COUNTRYSIDE

41. IS IT ON YET?

42. I’VE SEEN THIS BEFORE

43. NOT ANOTHER PLASTIC BAG

44. HAVE I MET THE QUEEN?

45. WHAT IS HUMOUR?

46. COMING SOON

47. ELASTIC BAND

48. ALL AROUND THE WORLD

49. CLAIRE IS GREAT

50. CHARLIE AND JUNE

51. OUCH!

52. WONT BE A MINUTE

53. WAS THAT THE PRIME MINISTER?

 

 

MY BEST FRIENDS NAME IS TONY

 

My best friends name is Tony,

And he has long blond hair,

My best friends name is Tony,

And he dances like Fred Astaire.

 

All the girls love Tony,

He’s never short on love,

I wish I had his luck,

Looking down on love from above.

 

Tony has a good job,

The money rolls in and in,

Never short on the readies,

Looking smart and trim.

 

Tony’s off to America,

The other side of the pond,

To tan up on his body,

And keep his hair more blonde.

 

I wish I was like Tony,

The fun that I would have,

But all I can do is dream,

And enjoy the view he has.

 

 

I’M A ROCK SINGER

 

I’m a rock singer,

But I can’t sing,

I’m a rock singer,

Full of lovely bling.

 

Fans they just adore me,

They think that I’m the bizz,

I wash my hair every day,

So they can’t see my frizz.

 

I fly around the world,

And always travel first class,

Hoping that this will never end,

And I fall down on my arse.

 

I love the fans,

They are my life,

But I’m hiding a secret,

I have a lovely wife.

 

But I’m a rock singer,

But I can’t sing,

But I’m a rock singer,

Full of lovely bling.

 

I keep another secret,

From my lovely fans,

I mime everything,

And that’s how it all stands.

 

 

WHERE IS MY MOBILE PHONE?

 

Where is my mobile phone?

I need it right away,

I can’t carry on alone,

I need it here today.

 

Please ring so that I can hear you,

I miss your dainty tones,

I’ll never leave you anywhere,

Of you I love the bones.

 

Depressed am I, I’m feeling low,

I don’t know where to go,

Without my phone I can’t talk,

And need it to flow and flow.

 

My phone, my phone I miss you,

My life is in incomplete,

Can’t ring any of my friends,

To arrange a time to meet.

 

 

The tunes it plays, I miss them,

The games that I play too,

And all my numbers in memory,

What am I to do?

 

Life will never be the same,

Without my little friend,

I’ll have to start again,

So that I may be of a mend.

 

 

MY LUCK NUMBER IS TWENTY SEVEN

 

Do you have a lucky number?

I do and it’s twenty seven,

I’ve had this number all my life,

And I live in Devon.

 

What that’s got to do with it,

I really haven’t a clue,

As it’s all to do with rhyming,

But twenty seven never makes me blue.

 

Twenty seven, twenty seven, twenty seven,

It gives me so much joy,

Twenty seven, twenty seven, twenty seven,

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

 

When ever I do things,

I always think of twenty seven,

I suppose that’s what I was thinking,

When I moved down here to Devon.

 

 

Devon rhymes with twenty seven,

And twenty seven rhymes with Devon,

But it also rhymes with others,

But that is another story.

 

 

CHRIS IS LATE AGAIN

 

What time is it?

He’s late again,

He does this every time,

 

We should be used, be used to it,

It happens all the time.

 

Chris is late again,

We shout it every time.

 

Pointless, as he’ll never change.

 

 

I’VE LOST MY WIFE

 

We were in the supermarket,

Doing the weekly shop,

Eggs, bread, milk and tea,

And we had a merry bop.

 

She was with me from isle to isle,

Looking at all the goods

Both helping to steer the trolley

Laughing at those all wearing hoods.

 

Cereals, jams and rice,

The weekly diet we need,

I really hate going shopping,

But if I refuse she makes me bleed.

 

I sometimes dream I’m on my own,

What a perfect life,

If anyone asks if I’m alright,

I say I’ve lost my wife.

 

 

THE NEWSAGENT

 

6am he opens,

In weathers good and bad,

He stays open late to the night,

And for us we’re always glad.

 

Ten pound chocolates,

And even penny chews,

He’s there to serve as merrily,

By supplying up all the news.

 

In days of illness, he opens up,

Never complaining at all,

A happy face and full of smiles,

Standing ten feet tall.

 

You can even buy a pint of milk,

Sugar, bread and tea,

A shop for the community,

For all to look on and see.

 

 

COLIN’S LEFT THE LIGHT ON, AGAIN

 

Oh no, not again,

Not again, again,

Thought that this was over,

He’s left the light on, again.

 

I thought that he had changed,

And that we had made him tame,

But oh no, it’s not to be,

He’s left the light on, again.

 

We need to have a chat,

And tell him he’s not to blame,

But this can’t carry on,

Colin’s left the light on, again.

 

 

LUNCH FOR TWO

 

Sitting in the restaurant,

Eating lovely food,

Looking into your eyes,

In a lovely mood.

 

So many things to say,

Some many things to do,

Loving being with you,

Having this lunch for two.

 

 

MR MEADOW IS BACK IN TOWN

 

He’s back,

I saw him last week,

He’s back,

Looking slightly meek.

 

June saw him on Tuesday,

Shopping without a care,

Who’s he shopping for?

And is he going to share?

 

Its bad news, it really is,

Trouble comes around,

Lets all group together,

Mr Meadow is back in town.

 

 

TWO AND TWO IS FOUR

 

Maths is not my thing,

It’s always been a bore,

But one thing that I know,

Is that two and two is four.

 

I can’t do my times table,

Divide or do any more,

But one thing that I know,

Is that two and two is four.

 

When on a job interview,

Maths are asked, it’s a bore,

But one thing that I know,

Is that two and two is four.

 

 

OUT IN MY GARDEN

 

Sitting in my deck chair,

Looking at all I survey,

Years of pleasure, it has given,

Out in my garden in May.

 

Having a drink or two,

Taking in all the view,

Years of work, it has taken,

Out in my garden for you.

 

Flowers, trees, lots to see,

All my hard work in place,

I love being here, I really do,

Out in my garden not in the race.

 

Plants and shrubs, through my fair hands,

I work hard all year long,

The joys and the pleasures,

Out in my garden where nothing is wrong.

 

 

CAN YOU SMELL IT?

 

What’s that?

I don’t know,

What’s that?

You don’t know,

 

It’s getting nearer,

To you and me,

Getting nearer,

But I can’t see

 

It’s on me,

It’s on you,

It’s on them,

Back to me to.

 

Can you see it?

Can you feel it?

Can they see it?

Can they feel it?

 

It’s getting so near,

At one stage so fit,

I don’t know what to say,

Can you smell it?

 

 

LIFE OVER THE EDGE

 

It’s the way she lives it,

Daring,

To the point,

With no reason.

 

It’s the way she chooses it,

Provocatively,

Cunningly,

Without a shred of doubt.

 

It’s the way she makes it,

On her own,

Her own way,

With no care for anyone.

 

It’s the way she makes it,

Her way, over the ledge,

The only way,

Life over the edge.

 

 

MR PEMBROKE

 

On his way home from town,

Passing cars,

People,

Lots to see.

 

On his way home from work,

Passing buildings,

Cars,

Lots to see.

 

On his way home from friends,

Passing lights,

Buses,

Lots to see.

 

Back at home,

Sleep then awoke,

You know who he is?

Mr Pembroke.

 

 

WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME?

 

What have I done?

Tell me!

Have I hurt you?

Tell me!

 

Have you been speaking with Lee?

Your silence tells me all,

Talk,

Please.

 

Sitting here wondering,

What it is I’ve done,

Looking into your eyes

And thinking have you won?

 

Why won’t you talk to me?

We could sort it,

Over a cup of tea,

Come on my love, let’s sit.

 

 

Why can’t we sort it?

I wish we could, oh please,

Your face is so lit,

Why won’t you talk to me?

 

 

IT’S OVER

 

It’s over,

I can’t take no more.

It’s over,

You’ve become a bore.

 

I’m sorry, that’s the way it is,

I’m with Penny now,

And she’s the bizz.

 

It’s over,

The years in the mist.

It’s over,

Your always brams and lists.

 

I’m sorry, that’s the way it is,

I’m with Penny now,

She’s my new Miss.

 

It’s over,

No going back.

It’s over.

Your love has had lack.

I’m sorry, that’s the way it is.

I’m with Penny now,

Her mum is called Liz.

 

 

IT’S JUST STARTED

 

Are we seated?

Are we comfortable?

Are we happy?

Are we ready?

 

I’ve never seen this before,

What about you?

I hope that I don’t roar?

Or cry and Hue.

 

It’s about to start,

The doctors are hear,

I’ve never seen an operation,

Hope I don’t shed a tear?

 

 

IN THE MIDDLE

 

Stuck,

Where?

Here,

There.

 

You,

Me,

Them,

Who?

 

To the left,

To the right,

Up,

Down.

 

In a bit

Out a bit

Does it really matter?

 

The ball goes round,

Eyes follow like a riddle,

You know what this is

In the middle.

 

 

THE CITY

 

The light shines,

We watch it,

The light shines

We brace it.

 

On my own,

Or with friends

But more likely alone,

I go there on the mend.

 

Pubs, restaurants and cinemas,

You’ll always find them there.

Wine bars, coffee shops and stores,

Anything else would be rare.

 

New things to do,

New places to see,

I always find it witty,

You know what I’m on about,

Cause I’m off to the City.

 

 

ROSES FOR YOU

 

I know it’s your birthday,

What were you expecting?

I know it’s your birthday,

You mustn’t go correcting.

 

You tell me each year,

Exactly what you want,

You tell me each year,

It’s your own Lamont.

 

And each year I tell you,

Don’t tell me what to get,

And each year I tell you

You make me feel regret.

 

It’s the same old thing,

I hear you say,

It’s the same old thing,

My name is not Ray.

 


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