Introduction
Oh dear, doubly guilty.
I guess you think this is just a poem, a bit of rhythm and rhyme — that sort of thing — when it’s
actually more like a work of art, like cream and drizzled chocolate on a plain old tart, and thus not some
boring prose — simply any old thing — and thus it more beguiling, even having you smiling, it not meant
to be taken too seriously, nor quite hilariously, but more in terms of light relief, whilst conveying the firm
belief, that this isn’t just a poem, a bit of rhythm and rhyme — that sort of thing — but actually more like a
work of art, like fruit salad and ice-cream next to a plain old tart, and thus not some boring prose —
simply any old thing.
1. Well Connected
There are so many interesting words, like “memory,”
Which reminds me, I think I’ll mention some via poetry.
For example, “humour,” which sounds quite amusing to me,
A word connected to “hilarious” and “tomfoolery.”
And then there is “scandal,” which has a naughty ring to it,
Or “revelation,” which with “scandal” somehow seems to fit.
And then there’s “flinch,” which seems to go with “needle,” don’t you think?
Or “mischievous,” which I’ve a feeling may go with “wink.”
“As for “garbage,” it’s “rubbish,” so I won’t waste time on that one,
But rather, I’ll mention “cream,” which is pleasantly linked to bun.
I’ll mention “glazed” too, which is kind of connected to “stare,”
And I’ll toss in “pudding,” which hopefully is tied to “share.”
“Niggle’s” an interesting word, connected to “conscience,” I think,
And as for “blushing,” I’ve a feeling that it’s linked to “shrink.”
And then there’s “ludicrous,” which sounds ridiculous to me,
Or “gobbledygook,” which is just nonsense, quite honestly.
Yes, I could go on — in fact, I will, so how about “squeaky?”
Which sometimes is connected to “joints” — my, aren’t I cheeky?
Oh yes, there’s “nibble,” often associated with “snack,”
And “ouch” or “grimace,” invariably connected to “back.”
Yes, there are so many interesting words, like “bellow,”
Which sometimes is heard in conjunction with “brick,” “sore,” or “toe.”
And there’s the word “prognosis” that’s always linked to “money,”
Or the word “frustrate” that’s so often tied to “policy.”
Well, I’d better leave it there, and vacate my cushioned chair,
And some other day, perhaps, more interesting words share.
Like “poet” and “pen” that are used in conjunction with “poetry,”
And would you believe it? Sometimes with “facetiousness.” What! Me?
By Lance Landall
2. Waggish Poetry
I would like to write a poem, one that’s as funny as can be,
Yes, one that would have people grin — or chuckle, preferably.
In fact, one that would have them all laugh, and very loudly too,
And not just the once, but often — that is, all the way through.
I would love them to clutch their abs, double up and fall about,
Thus no longer able to stand, too teary eyed, too puffed out.
And amidst it all, attempting to shout, “You’ve gotta read this!”
Wildly waving and pointing their finger for emphasis.
Yes, can you imagine it all? Bodies all over the floor,
And I, flourishing a pen, ecstatically scribbling more.
People begging me to stop, and weakly clawing at my chair,
Midst humour flying shamelessly, and them gasping, “Don’t you dare!”
Okay, I’m getting carried away, but just imagine it,
Infuriatingly funny poetry, and razor wit.
Irresistible poetry that soon has folk howling, “Stop!”
Lest it be that exhaustedly, on to the carpet they flop.
Yes, I’d love to write a poem, one that’s hilarious to read,
And where the laughter, even noise regulations would exceed.
Okay, not right by my ear, of course, but close enough to hear,
And to feel all the endorphins whizzing about in the air.
I’d stay up late to write such, and would go without sleep and food,
Just to see folk in stitches, and thus change someone’s sombre mood.
I would love to lift their spirits, have them laughing through the day,
Yes, helplessly convulsed, poetically carried away.
I guess it’s my mischievous side, that kid within, you see,
That wants to see people falling about uncontrollably.
But even so, there’s nothing like some fun, waggish poetry,
That for some unknown reason — perhaps impishly — eludes me.
By Lance Landall
3. A Play On Words
Does a tapeworm inch along, do mayflies come out in June,
Are hedgehogs always prickly, does a mockingbird lampoon?
Is a springbok highly strung, do rattlesnakes really rattle,
Are bandicoots bandy-legged, do lyrebirds falsely tattle?
Do ovenbirds grill their prey, are chickadees baby chicks,
Are grizzly bears bad-tempered, do cranes get very sore necks?
Do hamsters live in baskets, are butterflies cholesterol free,
Does a mamba love to jive, do hermit crabs get lonely?
Are sloths terribly lazy, do bobcats bob by habit,
Are gulls somewhat gullible, is a hare a disguised rabbit?
Do starlings like attention, do flamingos often dance,
Are badgers always nagging, do larks fool, by any chance?
Are cheetahs inclined to cheat, do bedbugs go under cover,
Does a polecat somehow vault, do moles spy on each other?
Do buzzards actually buzz, does a swordfish slay its prey,
Are yaks forever yakking, and do mantis really pray?
Are robins quite light-fingered, do pilot whales get airborne,
Are puffins all asthmatics, do grasshoppers bypass lawn?
Do dung beetles waste away, do roadrunners follow roads,
Is a meerkat simply that, are frogs more or less just toads?
Is a pigeon pigeon-toed, do parakeets paraglide,
Are cuckoos just eccentric, are ticks in it for the ride?
Are flounders indecisive, is a hog a greedy pig,
Do fireflies light fires, do bald eagles wear a wig?
Yes, there’s nothing like some humour, aided by a witty pun
Or two, that seemingly grew, given that they’re so much fun.
I just got carried away, but at the end of the day,
I'm sure that these little rays of sunshine won’t go astray.
By Lance Landall
4. Another Play On Words
Do hummingbirds ever sing, do bullfrogs tell tall tales,
Does a sawshark cut up rough, are manta rays only males?
Are thresher sharks just restless, are ladybirds dainty things,
Does an ass just fool around, is a bellbird lord of the rings?
Do sheep often look sheepish, does a swallow gulp its food,
Does a chipmunk dine alone, do lovebirds like being wooed?
Do bats create a racket, does an oarfish sometimes row,
Are wildebeests bewildered, do needlefish actually sew?
Are hornbills very noisy, do wild goats rant and rave,
Do pigs bring home the bacon, do muskrats love aftershave?
Do toads recline on toadstools, are flyingfish highfliers,
Are warblers romantic crooners, do electric eels have wires?
Do fleas itch with excitement, are chameleons changeable,
Is a dormouse a bouncer, are tuna fish musical?
Are adders good with numbers, does a nighthawk stay up late,
Are jewel beetles engaging, do trumpetfish sound that great?
Are blue whales revivable, are stink bugs always left out,
Are crows extremely boastful, do woodchucks chuck wood about?
Do reindeer love wet weather, is a numbat always cold,
Do millipedes mill around, are jellyfish formed in a mould?
Do seals all stick together, is a swift really that fast,
Do frigatebirds ride shotgun, do blow flies have time to gasp?
Is a porpoise a poor cat, is an oilbird pretty slick,
Does a lynx have connections, and does a ferret fossick?
Yes, another play on words, 'cause I can’t resist such fun,
Though there’s nothing like some humour, when all is said and done.
It helps clear the clouds away, and thus brightens up our day,
So here’s another poem, that hopefully, sends sun your way.
By Lance Landall
5. It's Strange
“Yes, I’m as happy as a flea in a sand-pit,” he said,
But how would he know, I thought, which left me scratching my head.
“I’m a box of birds,” she chirped, which didn’t make sense to me,
So lest I ruffled her feathers, I just smiled tactfully.
“He’s always blowing his own trumpet," she said, disapprovingly,
And so he should, I mumbled, lest he give his germs to me.
“I’ve been hanging about all day,” he muttered angrily,
And yet his collar looked fine, and everything sat neatly.
“Could you run me into town,” she asked, but eyed me oddly
When I started jogging beside her, kind of protectively.
“He lead me on a merry dance,” she said, which sounded nice,
So I smiled and said, “Lucky you,” got a stare as cold as like ice.
“I just don’t know whether I’m coming or going,” he said,
And then without a second thought, continued on ahead.
“I’ve got mixed feelings,” she confided, which I hadn’t realized,
So I gave her a chest of drawers so she’d be more organized.
“I’m lost for words,” she said, then oddly, kept talking to me,
But when she said, “My lips are sealed,” it baffled me completely.
“I’m all shook up,” he said, so I asked him if he were Elvis,
But he didn’t seem to hear, just went on about his pelvis.
“I’ve been climbing the wall,” he said, but no ladder was in sight,
So I said he could borrow mine — next thing, he got uptight.
“It’s time you branched out,” he said, which didn’t seem wise to me,
'Cause then I’d be out on a limb, rather perilously.
“Yes, you could have knocked me over with a feather,” she said,
Which had me quite worried, so I bought her a loaf of bread.
“I’ve been down in the dumps,” he groaned, which somewhat bothered me,
So I covered my nose, opened a window hastily.
“I can only play by ear,” she said, which really concerned me,
Lest her ear catch in some strings, or on a rough piano key.
“He’s inclined to fly off the handle,” she said, worriedly,
“Well, tell him to hold on tighter,” I replied, helpfully.
“It’s time to bury the hatchet,” she said, which had me worried,
So off in the other direction I quickly hurried.
“If I wanted his help, I would have to grease his palm,” he said,
So I bought some butter and did that — boy, did he see red.
“He’s foaming at the mouth, and I don’t know what to do?” she cried.
“Well, just tell him not to use so much toothpaste,” I replied.
“He has a big chip on his shoulder,” I heard her declare,
So I told her to flick it off, not go leaving it there.
Yes, it’s strange, isn’t it?
By Lance Landall
6. Come To Think Of It
I find it quite amusing — intriguing, actually,
How ’midst conversations, creatures are mentioned frequently.
Some might say maligned in fact, but whether that’s so or not,
I thought that down on paper some examples I would jot:
I often hear people say, in order to order restore,
“Stop monkeying around,” even, “Stop horsing about,” or,
They call someone a “bunny” who has done something silly,
When they could have said instead, “You’re such a silly Billy.”
Or they call someone a “mouse” who’s timid or expresses fears,
Or accuse someone of just crying “crocodile tears,”
Or of crying “wolf,” which in both cases means just pretending;
And some say, “It’s raining cats and dogs,” when neither’s descending.
Confusing, isn’t it? But that’s not all, as there’s even more,
'Cause when someone’s scared, some say they’re “chicken,” which I’d ignore.
And others call swindlers “sharks,” or someone a “copycat,”
Who coincidently, perhaps, is wearing same frock or hat.
I hear some folk say that so-and-so has a “frog in their throat,”
Or that so-and-so apparently “gets on someone’s goat.”
Now once again, neither can be taken literally,
'Cause one’s a sore throat, the latter: Someone makes someone grumpy.
Sometimes people call someone a “black sheep,” or a “drowned rat,”
Or say that someone’s having a “whale of a time” — fancy that!
And some say so-and-so is “rabbiting on,” or “catnapping,”
But we all know what they mean, it’s an English language thing.
Even so, what would creatures think if they could read and write,
Would they be just as amused, or the rights of creatures cite?
Imagine them all marching, or crossing the sky and sea,
Each holding up a placard saying, “STOP ACTING SO BEASTLY”
Oops!
By Lance Landall
7. Food Fads
Have you ever wondered what certain folk might like to eat?
For example: If asked, would a jeweller say, “Silver beet?”
Would electricians say, “Currants?” Would surgeons say, “Parsnips?”
Would a spy say, “Pecan nuts?” Would a woodcarver say, “Chips?”
Would psychiatrists say, “Blueberries,” accountants say, “Beans,”
Would a painter more than likely gravitate toward greens?
Would twins say, “Pears?” Would bankers say, “Cashew nuts and chickpeas?”
And would a plumber say, “Leeks?” Or a photographer, “Cheese?”
Would Eskimos say, “Ice-cream?” Would weightlifters say, “Raisins?”
And come to think of it, are feminists anti-mandarins?
Would rock climbers say, “Walnuts?” Would courting couples say, “Dates?”
Would pool players say, “Cucumbers, dished up on green coloured plates?”
Would gardeners say, “Prunes?” Would percussionists say, “Beetroot?”
Would a batsman shun vegetables in favour of fruit?
Would a goldsmith say, “Carrots?” Would comedians say, “Corn?”
Would dentists say, “Candy floss?” Hey, who took mushrooms off my lawn?!
By Lance Landall
8. Figurative Speech
“I’m tied up,” they say, when nothing’s further from the truth, because it isn’t so,
They simply speaking figuratively, not that one would necessarily know,
Because they could be, literally, but one’s phone not able to display such,
And so, one taking it all with a grain of salt, hardly able to do much.
“I’m in a mess,” they say, when that isn’t true either, ’cause they’re tidy and clean,
Yet their figurative speech leaving one imagining quite a grubby scene.
Oh, when will people stop it, because it’s so misleading, hardly true at all,
And why, figuratively speaking, one just has to live with it, when they call.
By Lance Landall
9. I'm Baffled
People are most intriguing — yes, they completely baffle me,
'Cause they’re so unkind to themselves, judging by the things I see.
You wouldn’t think that they would be, but the following I’ve seen,
Which has got me wondering, “Do some folk have a faulty gene?”
Oddly so, I have regularly seen both males and females
Biting their tongue and chewing on their lips, or their fingernails.
They may think such is tasty, but it’s cannibalistic!
And I also hope and pray, rather uncharacteristic.
They regularly pinch their nerves. I wonder how that must feel?
Or they pinch themselves somewhere else to see if things are for real.
Such must be rather painful, and it seems like abuse to me,
And surely all this pinching really isn’t necessary.
Yes, it’s so amazing what people do, like stubbing their toes,
And I have seen fingers in ears, and dare I say it, a nose!
There are better usages for fingers, licking them for one,
After you have scraped some icing off a large raspberry bun.
Some people tug on their ears, scratch their heads, and even elsewhere,
And for some reason, some beat their chest, even pull out their hair.
Some even bang their elbow, rub it raw, and say, "Ow! Ow! Ow!"
Which won’t help their elbow, nor will screwing up their face somehow.
I’ve actually seen some tearing the hairs off their legs too,
And yelping as they do so — yes, there’s a right hullabaloo.
And others cake themselves in mud, and put veggies on their face,
Or put holes in their body, and seemingly any old place.
I've seen some skinning their knees, and grazing their poor knuckles too,
Or straining their neck or back via some funny things that they do.
It’s really got me baffled, 'cause it doesn’t make sense at all,
And nor does wearing high heels — oops! — I’ve just seen somebody sprawl.
By Lance Landall
10. Smitten
When I entered the room, I knew that she was the one for me, and my heart skipped a beat or two,
And when her eyes locked on mine, my poor heart thumped so badly that I was scared of what it might do.
And when she strode my way, eyelashes fluttering purposely, I turned a sports car shade of red,
So grateful the lights were dimmed — and what to say to her, running 'round like a greyhound in my head.
When she cooed “Hi” in a way like one's ice-cream melts on a hot day, I stammered, “Yes,” in return,
And deep down inside that furnace being stoked within, flames of love began to fiercely burn.
Politely ignoring my “Yes,” though somewhat quizzically, she tried to make me feel at ease,
And midst her chatting and my agreeing with all that she said, how I wished that her I could squeeze.
She had me smitten, and when next we were sitting together, I didn’t want the night to end,
And crazily hoped that she (still searching my awestruck face), the rest of her life with me would spend.
When she said she’d see me again, assuring that she wanted such too, I was over the moon,
Joy barely containable, levitation almost obtainable, bring on the honeymoon.
As further outings came and went, and I still comatose, on cloud nine, wedding bells began to ring,
Hence that day when locked in a cosy embrace (to keep her warm), I popped the question, waved a ring.
And when she cried, “Yes!” (eyeing the eighteen karats), I hugged and kissed her, she yielding willingly,
'Cause the moment I entered, I knew she was the one for me, which a sparkling ring helped her see.
By Lance Landall
This poem was upgraded on 23 June 2023.
11. Skylarking
Though not bees, some folk get a “buzz” from doing certain things,
And I’ve also heard it said that someone like a “bird” sings.
Imagine that! But there’s more, 'cause some people get “ratty,”
Or “catty,” even “clucky,” or “yap” too much, apparently.
Others “wolf” their food down, “badger” someone, “beaver” away,
And believe it or not, some “bark” orders, or “roar” all day.
I’ve also heard it said that somebody’s inclined to “crow,”
And that someone “hissed” at someone; why on earth I don’t know.
I’ve been told that some folk “hog” things, or act very “fishy,”
And that some folk get the “lions” share, which seems unfair to me.
I’ve heard some referred to as “moles,” and have even heard that some
Would love to be a “fly” on the wall; don’t ask me how come.
And that’s not all, oh no, I’ve been told that some people “purr,”
Which sounds quite romantic, and such I suppose love could stir.
Others apparently “squeal,” but I would rather them “squeak,”
If going by the sounds of things they’re not prepared to speak.
Some people “parrot” others and “squawk,” believe it or not,
And if they’re in a hurry, even break into a “trot.”
It’s all rather confusing — a mystery, if you ask me,
'Cause it seems most creature like — peculiar, just quietly.
Say, they’re not just skylarking, are they?
By Lance Landall
12. Brain Strain
I just don’t know what to pen, I need some inspiration,
A generous flow, a rhythmic rhyming combination.
Though I’ve a pen and paper and desire for poetry,
I seem to have lost my creative mental energy.
Instead, I’m simply doodling, and not very well at that,
And in-between, stroking a well-fed curled-up purring cat.
I’m staring out the window wishing words would come to me,
A bright idea, some witty lines, a rush of poetry.
And still I wait, impatiently, feeling more frustration,
Just wasting precious paper on some abstract creation.
I’m also wasting ink as I sit here trying to think,
Concerned that my aging mind is finally on the blink.
It’s all very well for you, my little snoozing Siamese,
Dead to the world, lost in dreams, unless by some chance I sneeze.
Poems hardly interest you, you’re just a cat, spoilt too,
And not a muddled poet, who, what to pen, hasn’t a clue.
By Lance Landall
13. It's Enough To Cause A Blush
Oh, how poor old tortoises are offended, many calling them a turtle,
When turtles don’t have feet, and tortoises don’t have flippers, though both have a shell.
Okay, I know it’s not front page news, but even so, it’s enough to cause a blush,
No self-respecting tortoise putting up with such, not that they’re in a great rush.
All why I’m here in their defence, even though they can stand on their own four feet,
Thus hardly in need of flippers, and such mistakenness having got them beat.
Turtles having flippers! So please mind who you’re calling a tortoise, lest it be,
They not only wonder where you’ve been, but find it rather defamatory.
By Lance Landall
A poem with a difference.
14. Did You Hear About...
The bone specialist who worked with a skeleton crew,
The harrier whose memory needed jogging too?
The hard-case lawyer who was always defending himself,
The demure librarian who was left on the shelf?
The deep-sea fisherman caught in a police net,
The homesick guitar player who would regularly fret?
The pencil manufacturer who only had pen-friends,
The diver who drove around in a Mercedes-Benz?
The surgeon who often had his patients in stitches,
The golfer who enjoyed munching on club sandwiches?
The colourful painter who had a brush with the law,
The shy fridge salesman who took quite some time to thaw?
The ex-sailor who became a TV anchorman,
The lazy bush ranger who always said, “Billy-can?”
The metal merchant always in the middle of some scrap,
The engineer who tried to bridge the generation gap?
The accountant who was always talking figuratively,
The firefighter whose statements were inflammatory?
The treasure hunter who discovered someone’s bootee,
The knitter interested in cardiology?
The Olympic pole-vaulter who was afraid of heights,
The ravenous computer tech who took giga-bites?
The tobacconist whose business went up in smoke,
The fix-it-man who apparently was always broke?
The con-artist who gave the police sketchy details,
The weatherman who referred to his wife’s car as, "Gail’s?"
The Welshman who was totally obsessed with whales,
The female jockey who loved wearing ponytails?
The dentist who insisted on having an extractor fan,
The astronomer who had a liking for marzipan?
The adhesives consultant who wouldn’t stick to his word,
The pianist whose favourite pet was a mynah bird?
The cruel butcher who would regularly rib his friends,
The tennis player who collected ballpoint pens?
The chicken farmer who was convicted of foul play,
The dairy farmer who used to gaze at the milky-way?
The night watchman who responded very guardedly,
The absent minded Pharaoh who lost track of his mummy?
The acupuncturist who often spoke very pointedly,
The intern who acted very inhospitably?
The battery specialist who would often overcharge,
The negative photographer who problems would enlarge?
The king who mistakenly was sent a queen size bed,
The smelter worker who was very easily led?
The glass-blower whose ideas took time to crystallize,
The sergeant major who tended to generalize?
The plastic surgeon who melted at the sight of money,
The absent-minded hare who thought he was a bunny?
The arborist who really enjoyed listening to Bach,
The birdwatcher who simply did it for a lark?
The brand-new toy shop that opened with a Barbie-que,
The steam train driver whose dentist told him to, “Chew, chew?”
The retired soldier who was very bombastic,
The contortionist whose schedule was quite elastic?
The taxi driver who often sang in a cabaret,
The ammunitions expert who chose to live in Bombay?
The odd historian who always lived in the past,
The trumpet player who considered his role a blast?
The lighthouse-keeper who was always seen beaming,
The irritable cook that was often seen steaming?
The physiotherapist who put pressure on his friends,
The tailor with a grudge who just wouldn’t make amends?
The pianist who would always major on minors,
The waitress whose Mustang was referred to as, “Dinah’s?”
The wayward sailor who was told to, “Shape up or ship out,”
The horse whisperer who irritatingly would shout?
The pompous gym instructor who often postulated,
The chagrined thief whose story wasn’t corroborated?
The accountant whose actions were very calculated,
The grand-prix driver whose misfortunes accelerated?
The chatty inmate who had his cell phone confiscated,
The conductor who large scale robberies orchestrated?
The country sheriff whose badge was copper plated,
The paperhanger whose exploits saw him decorated?
The balloonist whose huge ego was soon deflated,
The cheese taster whose manner very often grated?
The dishonest builder who evidence fabricated,
The stressed out pest controller who fumigated?
The sick electrician who had to be isolated,
The domino player who each contest dominated?
The fraudulent car salesman who was incarcerated,
The puppeteer who always liked his meals marinated?
The ambitious lift attendant who was elevated,
The nervous magistrate who often equivocated?
The nuclear scientist who warmth radiated,
The soccer player who was very goal orientated?
The agriculturist who good manners cultivated,
The trainee chiropractor whose wages were backdated?
The pet shop owner who was very animated,
The UFO researcher who was alienated?
The truck driver whose thoughts were clearly articulated,
The lazy green grocer who simply vegetated?
The mechanic who was extremely motivated,
The inept deer stalker whose hunting just stagnated?
The washing machine repair man who got agitated
And, the parrot whose food was polyunsaturated?
By Lance Landall
"I DON'T KNOW WHERE YOU GET YOUR INSPIRATION FROM," SHE SAID, AND I THOUGHT, POSSIBLY FROM WITHIN MY HEAD, SO I OPENED THE LID AND HAD A LOOK, BUT NOT A SINGLE NOTE, NOR INFORMATIVE BOOK, SO WHERE MIGHT THAT INSPIRATION BE, I WONDERED SOMEWHAT QUIETLY, IT NAUGHTILY SEEMING TO EVADE ME, AND SO, RATHER FRUSTRATINGLY, I JUST CARRIED ON DOODLING AWAY, HOPING THAT MORE MIGHT COME MY WAY, AND THAT IT HADN'T ACTUALLY GONE, WHEN THE TRUTH IS, I REALLY SHOULD'VE PUT MY THINKING CAP ON.
