7. Naturally Hobbo

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Second place
Who's to blame
for second place,
the horse that tried
to win the race,
the jockey sat
upon his back,
the betting media's 
hackneyed hack,
the groundsman who
prepared the course,
the stable girl
who fed the horse,
a build up of
the acid, lactic,
the trainer and
his stupid tactics,
the bookie who
advised each-way
was not the clever
way to play,
or is it simply
hapless punter
who likes to blame
the world and chunter?
General theory of relativity
The relative worth
of an uncle or aunt
is quickly worked out
from a theory, extant.

Directly proportional
to the love they invest
on their nieces and nephews;
it's an accurate test.
The baby
No wonder she's happy,
lying there in her nappy;
the pride of her mum
from her curls to her bum.

She'll giggle and coo,
that's what babies do
and if she dirties her daiper
well, mummy will wipe her.
Bag it, bin it
She fancied a bit of a walk
but dog wanted more of a run,
so, stopping with friends for a talk
man's best friend set off for some fun.

Engrossed with her chattering group,
a whole lot of things on her mind,
she failed to see dog have his poop;
not surprisingly then, she was fined.
A baby fly
who learned to fly,
flapped little wings like a good 'un,
when a baby sider
hidden beside her,
hit her with cricket bat, wooden!
A tree view
Please don't 
leave me,
said the tree,
I honestly
prefer to be
butt naked
my whole length,
bearing leaves,
all my strength.
Perfect legs
Never too big,
never too small,
no matter how little,
no matter how tall.

Our legs are bespoke
spot on, complete,
exactly the distance
from seat to our feet.
Best Mates
The thing about dogs
is the love they engender,
you get what you see
they've no hidden agenda.

Unqualified worship,
devotion wholesale,
soulful brown eyes
and a waggy-whip tail.

No back-talking nonsense,
no falsehoods, no lies,
your four-legged pal
until one of you dies.

Only one thing would make
this bond even stronger,
that's the thing about dogs;
i wish they lived longer.
Brief thoughts
cast lifelong shadows.
Small words
leave the deepest scars,
as harmonious birdsong
on sunlit meadows,
kind deeds
calm the brouhaha.
Son, Andreas' shaking
was jolted
to a halt,
when mother said,"This quaking,
my child,
is not your fault.
Going Green
I'm going carbon-neutral
from now on, gas is out,
not green, apparently,
so what of Brussels sprouts

and cabbages and cauli,
slender runner beans,
are all these gas producers
now not considered green?

It's all a bit confusing
when trying to be good,
perhaps the next new thing,
is an electric spud.
Sisters named Fat, Thin and Scruffy,
Had a brother with coat that was fluffy,
He protected these three
From behind the settee,
Because this little guy was no toughie.
The science teacher
Though angle, she reasoned,
Gave birth to the seasons,
The distance is vital as well,
A tad more remote, 
We would need thicker coats,
Much closer, we'd all burn in Hell.
Way up past me clogs,
thigh-high in mud,
for me and the dogs
this weather's no good.

It's blowing a shout
and freezing too, see
we'd not be off out,
if they didn't need a wee!

This little pig favoured Sainsbury's
and this little pig tried the Spar,
this little pig went to Morrisons
and this one to M and S, ya!
Ocado pig stayed at home
cooking bacon for her and her ma.
Bee Loved
You're my sugar,
my sweetness,
my honeyed
You're my sweetie,
a sexpot,
a syrupy
Love Birds
Robin, said his missus,
do you fancy a nightjar?
I'd rather have a night in gale
and I don't want to get yellow hammered,
but I suppose there's time to swallow
a swift one
at the mucky duck.
So, off they swanned,
woodchatting away
but they took a wrong tern
and whydah you know
a bitter night fell.
He donned his black cap.
She told him that he looked a booby,
a great tit even
and to stop larking about.
He sniped back
though not wanting to grouse,
she said, starling,
just rook,
there's your friend, martin,
emu you like!
They all crowed together,
had a good old stonechat
until a mynah bird,
a ruddy duck,
peafowled the water,
mockingbirds as a species,
by saying, anyone for a shag?
What a bustard!
The clue
A lady rhinocerous,
Keeping liaison adulterous,
Gave her secret away,
After roll in the clay,
By a clue which was, shall we say odourous.
A collective
A string of racehorses
was set to join forces
with a coiled spring of teal
and a rookery of seals.
It's a yolk, said the oxen,
sulked, skulked with the foxes
but the black cloud of gnats
and the glaring of cats
at the dolphin's new school
said, bullocks you fools,
whilst a deaf herd of cattle
prepared to do battle
with a caterpillar army.
Puddled, said the duck,
who did not give a
flying invective
for a duck's subjective collective.
The Hair
I've located a hair, on my chest,
A hair! On my chest! Well, I'm blessed.
Perhaps, I'm becoming a hunk
Or, maybe my prospects are sunk.
It could be, this hair on my chest
Means that, I have gone well past my best
Sell by date, which, according to God,
Means it's time to sleep under the sod.
The butterfly
The breath on a mirror,
a whisper in the breeze,
ephemeral, ethereal,
susurration of leaves.

Kaleidoscope of colour,
athletic like agility,
breathtaking, scintillating,
sugar spun fragility.
Wisdom of age
Young bull and old bull, taking time out to chew,
Spy some cows peering over a wall,
"Let's run over there, and we'll service a few."
"Son, we'll walk, and we'll service them all!"
Animal behaviour
Tortoise and rock were making out,
He, with flair, she, without,
Men stopped to point and laugh and gape,
At what was statutory rape!
Did tortoise stop to ask permission,
Before pounding rock into submission?
Sporting bears
Fluffy Ted and Teddy Fluff,
Were naughty bears, got up to stuff,
Which Mummy Ted and Teddy's mum
Found really rather worrisome.
So, as a desperate, last resort,
They got their kids involved in sport.
Sir Fluffy's now a referee,
And Teddy Fluff's an O.B.E.
Feeding Time
My little brother is
learning to feed
himself, which is
very funny indeed.

It gets in his hair
and it gets on his clothes,
it goes everywhere.
and it blocks up his nose.

It dirties the walls
and it gets in the dog,
some went down the hall,
ended up in the bog.

A tiny concern
will land in his bib,
my mum says, he'll learn
but that's just a fib.

I think it's too late
for anytime soon,
when I had turned eight,
I could handle a spoon!
A mother's love
To watch a tigress
with her new cub,
is to truly observe
real power,
the power of love.
My Pal
I love our frequent walks,
The stress reducing talks.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

And I enjoy our little chats,
Play fighting, chasing cats.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

You are never in a mood,
Or picky with your food.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

I knew, right from the start,
You loved me with your heart.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

It is very plain to see,
You are always pleased it's me.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

I love you like a brother,
We are good for one another.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.

And you have taught me how
Life should be in the now.
Je suis tien, tu es mien.
is a fragile old woman
whose mature beauty,
has us
gasp in wonder
and whose abuse
at the hands
of her inept, juvenile carers
makes us weep
bitter, impotent tears.
The mouths of babes...
Gran, is it true that my mummy
One day popped out of your tummy?
It is sweetheart, yes.

And gran, applauding to mummy,
I then popped out of her tummy!
That's right darling, yes.

Sooo, if I have too many bratwurst,
Then my little tummy will burst?
You've got it in one, hon!
Weather forecast
High pressure, and sun,
Pack a coat everyone.
It's determined to snow,
Rain's bound to show.
Forty degrees,
Wrap up well, please.
Rainfall extreme,
Fetch the sun screen.

Wind from the East,
It will blow from the West.
Guaranteed fine,
No more sunshine.
Perfectly clear,
Hailstorms are near.
Hot for a week,
The roof's going to leak.

Drizzle a bit,
Absolute shit.
The wind will be strong,
Calm again, wrong.
Forecast is checked,
What can I expect?
If the errors would stop,
i could harvest my crop!
Stick in the mud
You threw a stick,
it stuck, in the mud.
What a dick!
Your throw was not good.

I scrabbled at it,
got it out with my paws.
Now I've got shit,
stuck in my claws!
A canine's view
I wish you'd clean up,
it's embarrassing.
i go for a dump
and get harassing

looks from the other
dog owner's who clean,
do not pretend
that they have not seen.

Okay, I know that 
it poos, a bit
but better than kids
put their shoes in it.

So, the next time I
pause for a crap,
pick it please.
Be a good chap!
The bumbling bee
A modest, nay humble
bee of the bumble
variety stumbled
on bloom, causing stumble
and fall in a jumble
head first, into crumble,
which fed tummy rumble
and stopped honey grumble.
Many people, outsiders,
are frightened of spiders,
we tend to get under their skin.
In this day and age,
we need a web page,
and the power of positive spin.
I'm off to sunny Anglesey,
To starry spangled Anglesey.
I'm going to angle in the sea,
And catch some fishes for my tea.

My worm. I'll dangle in the sea,
And hope my line stays tangle free,
When I go angling in the sea
In starry spangled Anglesey.
It is unbuttered toast,
vegetarian roast,
it's chips with no fish,
your least favourite dish.

Soccer, no goals,
golf without holes,
waterless swimming,
playing, not winning.

Life on your own,
children, all grown,
just family, no friends,
nights which don't end.

It is walks, full of tears,
it's facing your fears,
it is knitting with fog,
this is losing your dog.
It's not luck of the draw!
If you exercise more,
cut the drink down a bit
and the cigarettes quit.
Eat more veg and less meat,
spend some time on your feet,
make several treks,
give up the sex,
and don't bathe on the beach,
then a hundred you'll reach.
...But I want some fun,
ninety nine, that's me done!
Fitness Regime
I was well out of sorts
and I needed to slim,
so I bought Lycra shorts
and I joined a posh gym.

I looked like a sack
that had swallowed a seal,
so I took the shorts back
and went out for a meal.
Her home was remote,
high in the Dolomites,
and the poor little goat
had simply no head for heights.
It's here!
Squirrels, squirreling,
leaves are leaving,
glades are fading,
shades are shading.

Mist is misting,
rain is raining,
all is all-in,
Fall is falling.
Ageing disgracefully
Growing old sucks,
you can't read long books,
you lose all your teeth
and there's no more beneath.
I hated the denture,
but this bloody dementia...

I would rather be sold
than to slowly grow old
and be left in a home,
with walls, padded foam.
I hated the denture, 
but this bloody dementia...

My memory, yes, shot,
but I'd much rather not
play all-day I-spy
while I'm waiting to die.
I hated the denture, 
but this bloody dementia...

Please give me some pills
and say I was ill,
or a bag for my head
and look shocked when I'm dead!
I hated the denture, but this bloody dementia...
Death of a bee
The miniature tiger
lay perfectly still,
frosted wings motionless,
quite clearly ill.
We all have to die
but I still had to try.
I laid the poor creature
on the old water feature,
hoping that drinking
would stop her from sinking,
but this beautiful thing,
the size of my thumb
nail, breathed her last breath
and sadly succumbed.
The foxy huntsman
A foxhunting jockey
Was getting too stocky,
He needed to shed a few pounds.
In a move which was shrewd,
He switched to dog food,
And now, he keeps up with his hounds.
In the garden
Eve had to explain
To Adam, again
That the apple and snake were symbolic.
Then he peeked underneath
His lady's fig leaf
And up shot his pressure, systolic!
Don't bee silly!
His waggle dancing
at the hive,
turned to prancing,
then a jive.

The queen said, "Son,
it makes me think,
it's excess sun,
or too much drink!"
Rain was forecast,
four o'clock,
its non-arrival
not a shock.

Perhaps they meant
train, not rain,
and they'd no drivers
once again.
Some things we all have
in common, I think.
We all like a laugh
and we all eat and drink.

And that internal voice
baying for blood?
Well, we all have a choice
to be evil or good.
Many a legion
of butts, nether regions
are sniffed, every day by our pets
without any fuss.
They're more honest than us.
A four pawed salute to Debrett's.

Debrett's: A published guide to protocol and modern manners.
A cuckoo's a lazy old soul,
never bothers with building at all,
turfs eggs from their nest, dirty rotter,
a delinquent, troublesome squatter.

Spends her whole life on free benefits,
expects others to raise, feed her kids.
This mother may sing a sweet song
but something, somewhere has gone wrong.
A hedgehog, in shock
has to visit her doc,
when the partner with whom she cohabits,
instead of all spiky,
is soft, fluffy. Crikey!
The doctor, pronounced them both rabbits.
Breath Taking
a wonderful,
coalescence of space dust.

Briefly inhabited,
and abused
by the human race,
before they were
choked to extinction
by their own
grasping, gasping

Gone now,
nothing left.
No life,
simply peace.
An opportunity
to pause,
to take a breath,
breathe fresh life,
to start again.
A fatal flaw
Several types of spider
share my house lately
Not a huge spider fan,
I wish they'd walk more sedately.

Pausing, but too briefly to
rest, then off they scurry, 
web building for a living
and always in a hurry.

Not a gentle saunter,
a wander or a ramble
never do they feel
the need to simply amble.

It's the dashing that offends me,
they could shoot straight up my leg,
shelter in my underpants
and nestle on my peg.

It's precisely so with mice;
they never stop to chat,
if they did so, I'd be nice
without the urge to splat.

Wild creatures kill for food,
they have a good excuse,
but I can hardly make that claim
for a drop of beetle juice.

If I'm being really honest,
it's the scuttling at speed
which makes me want to kill them
when there's actually no need.

So, dawdle, potter, pootle,
roam, meander, walk,
mosey, tootle, take a stroll,
stretch six legs, let's talk.
Natural healing
Gaudily coloured, thoughtless litter,
a twisted, traffic-soiled tree.
The neglected house
with it's burglar-challenging boarding.
A slovenly parade
of prematurely closed shops.
The pushchaired child
in a tissue thin frock
and summer wellingtons,
at a passing hearse,
its occupants
a study in collective grief.

a Blackbird,
dark as jet,
with a beak
the colour of school custard,
hops down
onto a knuckled branch,
opens his throat
and sings
the first few notes
of his honeysuckle song,
lifting my soul
and I know I will make it
through another day.
A baby T-Rex
the size of a chook!
Do they all need new specs?
Could it not be a duck?

This tiny T-Rex
you could keep as a pet,
did it feast on insects
or dine out at Dinette.

The dinosaur dwarf,
roosting in flocks,
she sure is a morph
that would scare of the fox.
I bud,
and leaf.

Then would
I curl
and leave.
Production Line
Her favourite chicken
for many a year,
Produces an egg
whene'er she appears.
This chicken has eggs
coming out of her ears.
Sands of time
saw a 
she's seen it 
before. I saw the 
seashore that she saw 
before.  When I saw the seashore, that she saw 
 before,the seashore that she saw, was an eyesore,I saw.
A windy mare from Windermere,
polluting half the atmosphere,
dismissed from village in disgrace
and banished to a far off place,
chose residential spot which got 'em,
she picked a town called Elslack Bottom!
The cycle
A cathedral of colour,
palette of yellow,
brown, golden, red,
mellifluous, mellow.
Impatiently shaking
her clothes from their frame,
keen to renew,
recommence, start again.

As each chirpy season
accedes to a fresh,
she herself swells,
yet fades with each breath.
In a blink, it's the bole
must make way for another,
sedately decay,
giving back to earth mother.

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