Lockdown Haircut, by Mogs

Lockdown Haircut
(Printed in Write Out Loud charity anthology ‘Beyond The Storm’ – Poems From The Covid 19 Era.)

She says I need my haircut,
I look like a mad professor,
She’s gonna drag me into town
Leave me there with her hairdresser.
I remind her there’s a ‘Lockdown’,
Every hair salon is closed.
And while she ponders what to do
My hair just quietly grows.

Yes, she says I need my haircut,
Every minute, it gets longer,
Well, perhaps i’m like that Samson bloke,
While it grows, I’m getting stronger.
I know it’s not been touched for months,
But I just could not care less,
I can’t go out, so no one can see
That my Barnet is a mess.

Still, she says I need my haircut,
As she ties me to a chair,
Grabs the wallpaper scissors
and starts hacking at my hair.
She ignores my screams when snipping blades
Give my ear a painful prod,
It seems she honed her hair cutting skills
From watching Sweeney Todd.

So, I no longer need my hair cut,
At my feet, in clumps, it’s scattered,
She’s hacked and slashed, I’ve lost an ear
And my poor nerves are bloody shattered.
This Lockdown just brings misery
And it seems there’s no relief,
Because now she’s found some pliers
And is eyeing up my teeth!

Mogs (aka John Morris) has written poetry since the late 1970’s. He retired from an IT career in 2003 because of failing eyesight. He regularly performs at open mic events.

Books published 

‘Poems Your Parents Won’t Like’ – for ‘children’ aged upto 100.

‘Griff’ – children’s novel.

 

Poem by Jonathan Humphrey

The Puissant Penguin of Portsmouth
Partaking of pork, and port, and peas
Roguishly reclining in his sedan chair
Entirely at his ease

Said unto his bearers:
‘What days, what times are these
When an avuncular avine such as myself
Can be so perfectly pleased?

Here am I in my sedan chair
Borne by such stout young men
And hither and yon you take me
Bound by my every whim

The people of Portsmouth they give me,
Cheered by my sleek black form,
Port and pork and prunes and pies
And all other good things under the sky

For such is the birdish beauty
Of my flippers and claws and beak,
That all those who see me realise
Unknowing, it is I they seek

And knowing they bow down before me
Knowing they bend the knee
My beauty; it overwhelms them
They shall have no God but me

And thus here I am reclining
Borne by such bold lads as these
And thus do I partake of pork and port
Entirely at my ease.’

 

How to have the perfect wardrobe, by Heather Moulson

How to have the perfect Wardrobe

Let the party dress, stiff with deodorant
marks, stay on that wire hanger
to remind you of its glory days,
and that it will never fit you again.

If you must have a cashmere piece – essentially an
overpriced cardi – then avoid hot washes at all costs.
In fact, avoid wearing it altogether.
They only look good on retired movie stars.

A classic trench coat, too warm yet not
warm enough, will look good with anything –
assuming you actually put it on.

Invest in a well-cut pair of trousers –
not those elasticated things you’re wearing now,
so you can look as bland and invisible as possible.

Stick that flowered Laura Ashley dress on eBay,
because those days have truly gone,
and you’ll need more room for that beige collection.

Have a quick guilty look at those patent leather loafers –
bought only because you could.
Followed by a swift glance at your Mother’s old
Jumpers, as you visualise her sitting there knitting.
Then slam the door quickly. And get yourself up Primark!

Heather Moulson has been performing poetry since 2016.  She has featured extensively in London, and Surrey. Heather’s first pamphlet Bunty, I miss you was published in 2019.  Her work is mainly hankering for a certain era, and lifestyle tips.  Heather lives in Twickenham with a stroppy black cat.  

 

Long Johns, by Jamie H. Scrutton

Long Johns

He has such a sensuous appearance,
Still, after 20 years of being wed,
But when he wears his long johns,
I ban him from the bed!

They are such a repulsive garment,
They are such a ghastly sight,
They don’t particularly arouse me,
They give me such a fright!

Oh, fancy seeing your husband,
With his wobbly, knobbly knees,
His thighs and shins the size of twigs,
Oh no thank you please!

He has his champion features,
It’s his legs that I cannot bear,
I would rather see him in his tighty-whities,
And thermal underwear!

My personal inner thoughts of him in them,
Are completely obtruse,
With him lying next to me in bed wearing the long johns,
I strictly refuse!

It prevents him from the bitter winter, I shall give him that,
But the material is frantically coarse,
He needs to burn the long johns,
Otherwise I am filing for a divorce!

Jamie H Scrutton is a Yorkshire based Artist specializing in Performance Poetry and Animation. His material is often witty with a spec of seriousness. He performs and showcases his work widely around the UK. 
Youtube – Jamie Harry Scrutton
 

Long Johns, by Jamie H. Scrutton

Long Johns

He has such a sensuous appearance,
Still, after 20 years of being wed,
But when he wears his long johns,
I ban him from the bed!

They are such a repulsive garment,
They are such a ghastly sight,
They don’t particularly arouse me,
They give me such a fright!

Oh, fancy seeing your husband,
With his wobbly, knobbly knees,
His thighs and shins the size of twigs,
Oh no thank you please!

He has his champion features,
It’s his legs that I cannot bear,
I would rather see him in his tighty-whities,
And thermal underwear!

My personal inner thoughts of him in them,
Are completely obtruse,
With him lying next to me in bed wearing the long johns,
I strictly refuse!

It prevents him from the bitter winter, I shall give him that,
But the material is frantically coarse,
He needs to burn the long johns,
Otherwise I am filing for a divorce!

Jamie H Scrutton is a Yorkshire based Artist specializing in Performance Poetry and Animation. His material is often witty with a spec of seriousness. He performs and showcases his work widely around the UK. 
Youtube – Jamie Harry Scrutton
 

I will survive, by Dora Wright

First I was afraid I was petrified
I felt your neck to feel a pulse
I thought you’d died
then I spent so many nights
just sitting by your bed
as I watched you
being intravenously fed
so now come on, open your eyes
when you do you’re going to get
a really big surprise
I’ve got the minister here
to marry us today
I really need to be your wife
before you pass away
so come on open your eyes
just nod your head to say I do
before you die
I want to be your wife
I want your money too
so nod your head to tell
the minister you do
I’ll kiss you on the lips
I’ll whisper I love you
and when I’m standing
by your grave
I’ll shed a tear or two
I will survive
Well I’ll survive you.
And when I’m finished grieving
they’ll be no more making do
I’ll spend your money wisely
I’ll never waste a dime
I intend for it to last me
a very long time.

Dora is a member of several writing groups, has been published in anthologies and newspaper and magazine. Dora lives near Loch Lomond.

 

Ending up a vegetable, by Ray Pool

ENDING UP A VEGETABLE

Russell Sprout was rather stout
As wide as he was tall,
His appearance was hysterical
Verging on the spherical
Exactly like a ball.

As marmite’s not to everyone’s taste
While others seem to love it,
Russell drew a parallel
With some put off by a rotting smell
While others rose above it.

In one thing he was much admired
And worthy of a mention,
His green credentials were intact
An essential way of life in fact
And worthy of attention.

He never thought to change his name
Thinking that his shape was good,
While some it’s said look like their dog
He was a blend of toad and frog
Trying to be Robin Hood.
Let’s take leave of Russell Sprout
A tale as wide as tall,
It had its moments magical
But also some more tragical
It’s poetry after all.

 

Banana Pooh!, by Andy Brown

Banana Pooh!
Should you decide to ever quietly walk and to never ever absolutely not talk
whenever you go to the bustling zoo that means you won’t slip on Banana Pooh
because you may not actually even know bananas have ears that expand and grow
that hear you’re about to eat them whole it goes slap bang into the banana soul
but should they ever knowingly hear then you will trigger all that banana fear
and what will happen is what we would do and bananas feel they have to also pooh
and if you look and note their little ruse of how they camouflage and easily bruise
beware of that little bit on the end that you just can’t help but to bend
and remove before it goes into your mouth and then what happens, it all goes south!

It’s not just the bananas that generate that mess, sometimes it is more but often it is less,
tends to be the ones that consume it the most, the proper primates, the living and the ghost
of zoos gone by with Scrooge’s revenge, from ancient times and new-Stonehenge
the tales have come from down the years of how humans conquer banana fears
and give them to the monkeys and the apes watching all their frenetic merry japes
their swinging and climbing, laughing glee, but then they stare, and sit upon the tree
and let it out with messy, meticulous aim competing with each other for Olympic fame
of splattering and spluttering and splashing, of beating, hitting and crescendo crashing
as we look at them swing and do their tricks they communicate with each other, call us dicks
and know they have always been here first and always know what species is the worst
as they watch us eat their staple food, moon us, laugh and generally be rude.

If chancing to unzip that yellow fruit don’t think to wear a high-heel boot
forever be aware of whatever shoe is worn to venture to your local zoo
because it’s so definitely so, so true you could slip or slide on banana pooh!
Perhaps you need legs like storks or need to balance on prong-like forks
if you would ever venture to that zoo where you could slip on banana pooh!

So should you ever again go to your local zoo and perhaps never have seen banana pooh
just get your camera, aim and click, stand back and watch their evil trick
see them act as if on Shakespearian stage unleashing fiery, ferocious Gorilla rage
as needless, unthinking reflective glare makes many a normal calm primate swear
then beware, see how they run, they rushed to get that infernal, flashing camera crushed
thinking if they could get you in their paws they would scratch you with serrated claws
and then they would definitely sit upon you deliberately despatching bombing banana pooh
with gorilla smiles, chewing, looking serene claiming innocence as if have never been!
Please keep your senses fully tuned or you could easily find a wound
but should you ever damage leg or arm your reckless nonsense led to harm
because didn’t heed all sound advice you deserve your limbs cut, sliced or diced!