Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Dad smells
Dad smells Dad smells of curry, tobacco and beer. Mum's smell of worry and make-do is fear.
Dad smells Dad smells of curry, tobacco and beer. Mum's smell of worry and make-do is fear.
Hobbo's Poems 
😦
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😳
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let’s hope we have a Xmas season without such incidents; I am so tired of my gender behaving badly — and now it has hit close to home 😦
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Let’s hope so too, John.
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Some men hit with their fists and some with their words. Both are brutes. Such a small poem but with huge impact
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Thank you Debi, and you are so right. Abuse can be emotional as well as physical.
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This is one of those times when it seems inappropriate to hit the Like button.
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Absolutely. I agree 100%.
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Well, you’re spot-on. For the longest time I did not realize the harm done by words could outweigh the most horrendous beating.
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Both equally sickening though.
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Great poem Hobbo.
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Thank you.
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