Photo by Magda Ehlers on
Counting Games

For the pessimist
One, two, nothing to do
Three, four, can't take any more
Five, six, I'm in a fix
Seven, eight, ruled by fate
Nine, ten, I don't know when
Eleven, twelve, left on shelves
Thirteen, fourteen, whole world's so mean
Fifteen, sixteen, everything is obscene
Seventeen, eighteen, I'm a has-been
Nineteen, twenty, all is empty.

For the optimist
One, two, plenty to do
Three, four, let's go explore
Five, six, build those bricks
Seven, eight, never too late
Nine, ten, yes happy again
Eleven, twelve, play with elves
Thirteen, fourteen, everything is so green
Fifteen, sixteen, I'm a dancing queen
Seventeen, eighteen, so much unseen
Nineteen, twenty, we've got plenty.
Photo by Jill Wellington on

My Lucky Day

Barely had a shower,
Was coming down the stairs
An email in my inbox
A man who says his prayers
Overseas is dying
From some horrid disease
Needs to spend his fortune
And God had chosen me!
Bank details were required,
Well, that seemed fair enough
But, before I give them
I got some other stuff.
Text, congratulations
Huge, my lottery win
Amazing, reason I,
I’ve not paid nothing in!
Please confirm bank details
Of course, well would not you?
Then, by Jove, a phone call
The Inland Revenue.
Big tax over-payment
I only had to ring
Payment in a jiffy
Would end my suffering.
Never been so lucky
So many billet-doux
Here are my bank details
Why, help yourself, please do!

Photo by Mister Mister on

The moment
that you
to live in
already passed.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
Trading Places

Belly button feeling glum
Seeks more fulfilling role
Agrees to do a swap with bum
Becomes a buttonhole.
Photo by Bruno Salvadori on
Hair today, gone tomorrow

I grew a long beard
Lasted barely a week
The thing interfered
With my snogging technique.
Photo by Mohammad Danish on
This is your life

may provide
the pen
and the paper

are the one
who writes
the story.
Photo by Pixabay on
Fork 'n' knife

Let's hear it for the humble fork
Sharp as knife, and not all talk.
Unstabbed by fork my egg would slither
Down my leg, all hither thither.
Photo by Lu00ea Minh on
Spare a thought

Children, safely, in parks play
Yet, in car parks, we make cars stay
Still, like soldiers, in a row
Tidy, but it's cruel though.
Photo by Oleg Magni on
The Shopping Trolley

Squeaky wheeled, the shopping cart
Ferries goodies round the mart.
In its ever changing hold
Lie lost secrets, never told.

Errant husbands in a hurry
Farmer types who smell of slurry
Secret Santas for the office
Squabbling kids who fight for toffees.

Fussy sorts, the feely-touchers
Veggies who avoid the butchers
Grimy toddlers, babes in nappies
O.A.P's and cheeky chappies.

Lover boys with cheapskate flowers
Lonely folk who pass the hours
Chatting with the clientele
Shopping till that final bell.

Thieves with no intent to pay
Drunken louts who start affrays
Married couples, taking huff
Pin striped suits, and working scruffs.

Diets won and diets lost
Thrifty ones, who count the cost
Of each item as they pick it
Mentally arithmetic it. 

Coupon warriors, voucher wavers
Flashy spendthrifts, super savers.
You've seen the lot, know all our tricks
So, can't you get that damn wheel fixed!

Photo by Pixabay on
A Mars a day

The boffins went to Mars
In a Rover, by the way
And there among the stars
They could work and rest and play.
Photo by Klaus Nielsen on
The way

said I do
forty four 
years ago.

Sixteen thousand
cooked meals
by you
for me
with love.

silent majority

vocal minority

And your
truly special
platinum collection
made my
taste buds tango.

You didn't
find a way 
to my heart
you built
a culinary autobahn.
Merci ma cherie!
Photo by Matheus Bertelli on
Love you to bits..

You're the flirt
in a skirt.
The snag
In our snog.

You're a nail
in my mail.
The weed
in my need.

You're the pest
in my vest.
The fly
in my eye.

You're the wart
in my court.
The itch 
in my snitch.

You're the clot
That I've got.
You're the nit
in my knot...

...and I love you to bits.
Photo by Pixabay on
Tempus fugit

That breath
you have taken
you will never
breathe again.

The harsh words
you have spoken
can never
be unsaid.

That memory
you are making,
the teardrop
in your eye
and tomorrow
claims the lot,
every thing
a fleeting lie.

Be not afraid
though, little one.
Time flies like this
for everyone.
The Yorksher C bomb.

Tha' cun't use a comb
Cos thee 'airs a bit sparse,
And tha' cun't marry 'er
Cos she's gorra' fat arse.

You have no requirement for a comb
Because you are almost bald,
and you could not tie the knot with her
Because she is rather a large lady!
Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on
A Palindrome

Seven Eves, madam!  I'm Adam!  Seven Eves!
Photo by Vlada Karpovich on
Love is...

Putting the bins out when it's not your turn.
Apologising before you fart.
Pretending to listen when you haven't a clue what she is talking about.
Waiting until she leaves the room before picking your nose.
Letting her clean the toilet, even though you would love to do it.
Not forgetting her birthday more than once a year.
Buying her petrol station flowers for the thrill of hearing her say,"What are these for?"
Letting her watch the football, rather than a sloppy film.
Getting her a fish supper on your way home from the pub.
Sleeping fully clothed in the bath, so you don't have to wake her.
Photo by Pixabay on
The Detective

It's not in the bath
Not in the sink
Not in the glass
That I use for a drink.

Not in the flannel
Or the waste paper basket
It wouldn't be hard
If I could but ask it.

Not on the hairbrush
The cabinet or
Caught in the towel
Lost on the floor.

A fingertip search
Of everywhere, no
Where the hell did
That nail clipping go?
Photo by Pixabay on
A Yorksher Love Sonnet

My love for you, my dear, primordial
I need you as the great white needs the sea
My little cookery book, my granny's recipe
My pressure gauge, my medical annual.

You're the tiger in my tank, my animal
The sugar in my too sweet cup of tea
My fleur de lys, my chickadee, my bon amie
My swamp duck, just a tad too spherical.

You're the girl who spends my pension every week
Who looks quite nice, when age is factored in
The cheeky twinkling in the corner of my eye
Like highly polished furniture, antique
More sturdy than that wall in East Berlin
The girl who'll get my ferrets when I die.
Photo by Anthony on
The Pirate's Birthday

Pete pirate held a party
The day that he turned eighty
He looked too hale and hearty
Insisting, aye aye matey.
Photo by Vidal Balielo Jr. on
The ringmaster's will

The circus boss got shot
His brother was an heir
He didn't get the lot
But he got the lion's chair.
Love on trial

A Parisian apartment exclusive
She murders her lover abusive
True to French fashion
She pleads crime of passion
Five knives in his back inconclusive.
Photo by Pixabay on
The Power of the Pen

A simple signature can

Acknowledge new life
or register the end of one.

Declare our undying love
or send a country to war.

Purchase a property
or buy us some time.

Make us millionaires
or turn us bankrupt.

Seal a marriage
or certify a divorce.

Give the gift of life
or end it all.

Pass me that pen, please.

Photo by Magda Ehlers on

A charitable crutch
For the poor and needy
Or, an easy touch
For the feckless, greedy.

Mere subsistence
A basic feed
Or does their existence
Create the need.

Providing human fuel
As a last resort
The question is cruel
But it does need thought.
Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery on
The Present

I've got thee a dress, boasted Pete
So, what with the money he'd lent her
Jill thought she were in for a treat
But t'address were for Wakefield Job Centre.
Photo by Pixabay on
True Wisdom

A wise man

A wise woman
lets him
think so.
Photo by Vladislav Murashko on
The Power of Thinking

the totality of our thoughts
is hatred
we will perish.

the product of our ponderings
is love
we shall triumph.
Photo by Pixabay on
You and me, me and you

You measure success by your power
The money you earn by the hour
Your place at the top of the chart
The people who nod when you fart.

Now, I, am content with my lot
Whereas you (Sir!), quite clearly are not
I always sleep soundly in bed
But you chase the dreams in your head.

For me, life's a joy and a pleasure
My family and friends are my treasure
You are constantly searching for more
Never pausing to think, what life's for.

I consider what use I can be
To others, with you it's all me
For you, a huge house is essential
Though I think it inconsequential.

Love that we share and we give
Are the tenets by which we should live
You think that fame is a must
You forget that we all turn to dust.

When you die, are there people who'll grieve
Or, will they count the money you leave
Have you spent your time wisely on earth
It's the value that counts, not the worth.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Easy English for beginners

I'll teach you how
To pronounce bough.

Not as is sport
That's saved for nought.

No, don't nod off
It's not like trough.

And please don't go
It's easy though.

I'm sure that you
Will soon be through.

With all this stuff
Enough's enough.

Dauphy: Are you entering Chelsea Owen’s poetry challenge this month?

Hobbo: No, I don’t think so.

Dauphy: Why not.

Hobbo: I can’t get a handle on the subject.

Dauphy: What is it?

Hobbo: You have to write a rant. I haven’t got a rant in my body!

Dauphy: Psht!

Hobbo: What do you mean, psht?

Dauphy: You’re a Yorkshireman aren’t you? Ranting is as natural as breathing.

Hobbo: Thanks Dauphy. I’m not sure I agree with that, but you’ve given me a great idea.

Dauphy: De rien!

A Yorksher Rant

Tha' mun think that, am med o'brass
Well, shove it up yer Khyber Pass
Fifty bob fer chips wi' scraps
I dunt pay that fer good flat caps!

Tha' thieving sod, tha'll rob me blind
'all take me stick, 'ave 'alf a mind
To stick it where the sun don't shine
Tha' robbin' git, tha' greedy swine.

I'm an O.A.P tha' knows
I wotchit, where me money goes
So, tha' can keep thee chips, instead
'all mek do wi' some drippin' bread.

You may think that I have lots of money
Well, you can put that money in your bottom
£2.50 for french fries with trimmings
It costs me less for decent headgear.

You are a thief who is prepared to scam me
I am inclined to take my walking cane
And put it in a painful place
you robbing villain, you greedy scoundrel.

You know I'm an old age pensioner
And I have to be prudent with money
So you keep your chips for yourself, whilst I
Will have some bread spread liberally with pork fat.
Photo by Pixabay on
C'est la vie

Life is
a cornucopia of contrast
a cruel joke
of juxtapositions.
C'est la vie.

The unimaginable wealth
of royal racehorse owners
The life sapping poverty
of the homeless gambling addict.
C'est la vie.

The limitless optimism
of human ideals
the actual reality
of everyday life.
C'est la vie.

The glorious beauty 
of planet earth
our ugly determination
to destroy it.
C'est la vie.

The corrosive corruption
of absolute power
the frustrating impotence
of the powerless.
C'est la vie.

Our futile attempts
at cheating death
the inexorable 
tramp of time.
C'est la vie.

The carefully crafted images
of the poet's pen
the thoughtless hatred
vomited on social media.
C'est la vie!

C'est la vie:  That's life.
Photo by Kamaji Ogino on
This diet isn't working

I'm happy in
the clothes I wear
but in my wife's
I'm in despair.
Photo by Pixabay on

The Yorksher Alphabet

A  is food for 'osses.
B  a stripey insect that makes 'unny.
C  a big, wavy pond full of fish.
D  a river in Wales.
E  by gum, a fairly meaningless Yorkshire expression.
F and Jeff, to swear.
G  an expression of delight.
H  the thing a woman will never disclose truthfully.
I    usually come in pairs. used for seeing.
J    a type of bird.
K  a lasses name
L  where I'll likely go after I die.
M  a polite way of interrupting a conversation.
N  a domestic bird, lays eggs for our breakfast.
O  an expression of surprise.
P  done a lot after too much to drink.
Q  an orderly line, peculiar to Brits.
R  a state of existence, as in you R.
S  a whispered affirmation.
T  'ot beverage, served with biscuits.
U  thee
V   a rude salute.
W  definitely thee.
X  things that 'ens lay.
Y  a toddler's favourite question.
Z  noggin, skull, as in he's off 'is Z.

With thanks to The Two Ronnies and Baldrick for a couple of these definitions!

Photo by Jacek Mleczek on

A tribute to Wordsworth

You wander lonely as a cloud
Steer clear of all the Covid crowd
The sight of all those daffodils
Uplifts your heart, discard those pills.
Photo by nappy on
What shall we call him?

The fireman from Spain has a baby
He and his wife disagree
She wants to call him Jose
No way will he call him, hose 'b'.
Photo by fotografierende on

Listening skills

I saw Anna in town today.

That dog!

She’s had an operation on her foot.

It stinks!

Lisa’s had another baby.

It’s filthy. Think I’ll give it a bath.

They’re going abroad this year.

Is the water hot?

That back door needs painting.

Where’s the shampoo?

There’s some paint in the shed.

Can you use it on dogs?

Do you fancy a holiday?

I’ll need a towel.

A little bed and breakfast?

A big one I reckon.


On second thoughts.

You choose.

I can’t be arsed!

We’ll stay at home then.

It doesn’t smell that bad.

I’ll put the kettle on…

A Yorksher love poem

Tha'll get me pension, when I die
and 'tools inside me shed.
You are the gravy in me pie
the girl I chose to wed.

Tha's like the salt, I put on 'chips
The froth that warms me beer
a lass that wobbles when she strips
to who there's no compeer.

And tha's the lass what 'ad me kids
and set me 'eart a thuddin'.
As solid as two dustbin lids
the air in 'Yorksher puddin'.

Tha's the mush in mushy peas
The fluff in fluffy slippers
What taught me 'bout the birds 'n'bees
The girl that cooks me kippers.

Tha's the match what lit me fire
The stubble on me chin
Who dances like a tumble drier
The nine in feminine.

So, me love, rough as you are
'tis death will force our partin'
Tha's more use norra flashy car
Despite tha' flippin' fartin'.

Yorksher:  Yorkshire
tha'll:  you will
me:  my
tha's:  you are
compeer:  compare
'eart:  heart
Yorkshire pudding:  A savoury'pudding' eaten with roast dinners
norra:  than a
Photo by Pixabay on
The art of balance

Can you canoodle
carefully, in a canoe?
Can you? Cannily?
Photo by Ferdinand Studio on
The Scottish Bard

The pen is mightier than the sword
and Rabbie was the king
Twas his sword though, struck a chord
and made the ladies sing.

Robert (Rabbie) Burns, National Poet of Scotland
had a reputation as a 'ladies man'.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
The assignation

Ran like crazy, to the station
Late again, the aggravation
Would she keep their assignation
He was getting palpitations.

Then, amongst the congregation
Spied, and waved with admiration
Hard to hide his adoration
Can't control his respiration.

She's excited, pure elation
Pleased, there'd been no cancellation
Take a stroll, first inclination
Fresh air adding stimulation.

Subdued is the conversation
Lost in thought, in meditation
Feeling under obligation
He speaks first, makes observation.

No need for commiseration
This is not infatuation
This is love, no reservation
Too late now, for reputations.

What use now, a confrontation
She forgives his brief flirtation
His, a stressful occupation
She, his soulmate, his salvation.

This is more than fascination
Mutual, their declaration
So, among the vegetation
They play game, of generations.

Love is sealed, an affirmation
Wounds are healed, no complications
He can not hide his jubilation
She is his for all occasions.

Grateful for her approbation
He gives her a presentation
Birds on high, a murmuration
Fly, and sing their salutation.

She forgives their separation
Needs no other explanation
Next time he goes on vacation
She comes with him, his dalmatian.

Photo by Tim Samuel on
Domestic Harmony

Never argue with your wife
Not while she holds a carving knife.
The argument's not worth a toss
Smile, say "Yes dear, you're the boss."
Photo by cottonbro on
A story as old as time

In a village, quaint, touristic
Lived twin sisters, both artistic.

One was dour, pessimistic
Smaller girl was optimistic.

Came two men, materialistic
As foretold by Meg, the mystic.

Older, brash and egotistic
Younger shy, though not simplistic.

Girls were sexy, sensualistic
Stirred boys feelings, pugilistic.

Both called truce, men realistic
Let girls choose, so altruistic.

Women flattered, fatalistic
Double wedding, idealistic.

Choose a vicar, humoristic
Pick a service catechistic.

Thus my friends, in rhyme linguistic
Old, old story, humanistic.

Photo by Travel Sourced on
Read them their rights

Ethnic minorities
Ordinary people
Indicted prisoners
Black people
Indigenous populations
LGBT community
Itinerant people
...hell, yes. Absolutely yes, but there is another side to this...
Photo by Andre Furtado on
Photo by Pixabay on
Long John Baldry

Let the heartaches begin
Long, his talents have flown
He played for The Beatles
And sang with The Stones.

Christened John Willy
We need not harp on
No need of a wordsmith
To make this Long John.
Photo by Jim De Ramos on
The football match

My debut for the 'dads v lads'
The shortest you could see
Substituted me, the cads
Straight after 'take the knee'.

Photo by Pixabay on
Playing Games

It's only three letters, guess it, you're good.
Got it in one! The answer is bud!

Almost correct! 'B' gets you a nod.
So, if I was real you mean bod?

The 'D's' also right, you go wrong in the mid.
This is too easy, you're thinking of bid.

Ever so warm now. Driving you mad?
Nope, I think I've got it. The word must be bad.

'B' something 'D', it's all in your head!
Ah, now I've sussed it. You want me in bed!
Photo by Tim Gouw on
Adios Amigo, Au Revoir Mon Ami!

Yesterday, Trump was a president
A tweeting, unbeaten sweetheart,
in White House, no longer a resident
Trump's now a windy old fart.

Photo by ShonEjai on
Oppressor to Ornament

When Germany East was abolished
The wall in Berlin got demolished
With shovel and pick
Large chunks of brick
Were taken home proudly, and polished.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on
A biblical story

The Sam Harrington in the bible
He came from a family tribal
So when 'Daily Flood
Said that he was no good
Sam sued them for thousands in libel.
Photo by Lisa Fotios on
The Splits

Should I be going boldly
or do I boldly go?
Splitting my infinitive
could be a fatal blow.

It's difficult to truly
write with realism
when my native tongue is tied
lashed down by dogmatism.
Photo by Pia on
Jacques Cousteau

His groin got caught on the wreck
Jacques, one of life's survivors
Was freed from off the wreck
By using four skin divers.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Tykes Talking

Gerrit canyer?
Sin tin.
Tin tin tin.
Tis, sithee.
Clart he'ud!
Photo by Mateusz Dach on
If, at first...

This was his tenth driving test
Don hit a bin wagon, head on
Although docs at the scene did their best
God got to say, "You've passed Don."
Photo by fotografierende on

Spare a small thought for the devil
if Satan. should land in a hole
The guy might not be, on the level
But think, how could he, sell his soul?
Photo by Ksenia Chernaya on
It was a wrench!

The wrench it sticks
when it's not clean
so polish it
until it gleams!
Photo by Oleg Magni on
Let's twist again

surly Shirley's
sorely sorry
smelly Shelly's
Sunday sherries
simply soured!
Photo by Pixabay on
Once upon a time

There was a crook-ed man
And he ran a crook-ed house
And they all lived together
In America's White House.

Photo by Markus Spiske on
Selfless or shelf-less?

Look at those fools, panic buying
It's an absolute bloody disgrace
Not like me, I'm not selfish
Better double up though, just in case
Photo by Pixabay on

Life in the lockdown
is boring.
Wouldn't it be good
to go out.
Dictionary pages
I'm reading.
Already I've learned
next to nowt.
Photo by Pixabay on
Ode to a bogey

A wonderful thing is a bogey
Ask any male child, if you've doubts
He'll tell you, they're ever so tasty
and much better for you than sprouts.
Photo by Daniel Reche on
Out of place

She was too
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Be careful what you say

'That's cute', was a saying of his
For everything, loud voice, not muted
Until one fatal day he did this
It wasn't his wife but his ex 'e cuted.
Photo by Athena on
Little Miss Muffet (by Dauphy)

Little Miss Muffet
Sat on her buffet
Eating her pie and peas
Too hot for her knees
They fell on the floor
And little Miss Muffet
Said,"Stuff it."

Photo by Posawee Suwannaphati on

Read the label

The label, she carefully read
Grand Cru, on her bottle of red
Lay down for a little, it said
So she drank it, then snoozed on the bed.

Photo by Gene Taylor on
Scotland the brave

If I spoke Scottish
That would be good
More words would rhyme
I'd be in a good mood
Photo by cottonbro on

Simple Simon said
I'll teach you to fly
Jumped from twelve storeys high
And now he is dead.

Dauphy: I’ve written a poem for the end of the year.

Hobbo; That’s great. What’s it about?

Dauphy; It’s been a pretty awful year for most people, so I’ve written about the meaning of life.

Hobbo: Wow Dauphy! That’s a huge subject. Let’s hear it.

The meaning of life (by Dauphy)

If the Hokey Cokey
Is what it's all about
Then throw me in the chokey
And do not let me out.

chokey: UK slang for prison.

Dauphy: What do you think?

Hobbo: I’m impressed Dauphy. Very deep. Really meaningful.

Dauphy: Honest?

Hobbo: Always…

Photo by Pixabay on
Visa, the master of cards

American Expressly wished
To PayPal cash for postal order
Derek Debit, to his credit
Preferred to pay by standing order.
Photo by DSD on
Short lived joy

Cruising for
a nice young man
he found one
Yin meets Yang.
Then his joy
turned into panic
on board the ship
they named Titanic.
Photo by Public Domain Pictures on
Trouble ahead

It can not be done
Said she
But he
Out for fun
Blew away all her doubts
And curried the sprouts.
Photo by Pixabay on

If socks
are comfort food for feet
do clocks
like seconds when they eat?
Photo by Pixabay on
You are joking!

Whilst watching the footy
Reclined, with a BLT butty
Heard a joke that was smutty
About a plumber and putty.

BLT: Bacon, lettuce and tomato
a popular sandwich in the UK
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on

It's my fault
I wind him up.

It's my fault
He was drunk.

It's my fault
He loves me really.

It's my fault
He didn't mean to hurt me.

It's my fault
His tea should have been ready.

It's my fault
He doesn't like these clothes.

It's my fault
He is really sorry.

It's my fault
See, he's brought me flowers.

It's my fault
He won't do it again.

He's promised me
It's my fault.
Photo by Kate Amos on
A modern miracle

Love is blind
Affects the brain
Though marriage
Restores sight again.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Memories are made of this

He sat in the bedroom
Scratching his head
Am I getting up
Or going to bed?
Photo by Emma Bauso on
The generous bigamist

I plighted my troth
This was bigamy
Bought presents for both
That was big o' me.
The generation gap

New hearing aids fitted today
My grandson is very impressed
They work on Bluetooth technology
Whatever that means, they're the best.

Dauphy: So, are you part of the hearing aid generation now then?

Hobbo: Well, personally, I see myself more as a Bluetooth kinda guy.

Dauphy: Pffft!

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on
A good night's sleep

It slowly dawns on you
that you may have
drunk a smidgen too much
last night
when you can't get comfortable
in bed
and your wife wakes you
to ask why
you are rolling around
on the floor
the Ali Baba laundry basket.
Photo by Maria Pop on
Arise Sir Loin

His several chins wobbled
But he put up no fight
When the noble got nobbled
By a Knight, in the night.
Photo by Nikolai Ulltang on
Growing old gracefully

Two elderly men playing golf
In the snow, in the midst of December
"Did you see where my tee shot went mate?"
"I did, but I can not remember."
Photo by on
The Lawn

That sweet smell
of a freshly mown lawn
on a summer's day
the distress call
of a million blades of grass
in their youth
by the murderous blade
of the mower
for our
aesthetic pleasure.

Photo by on

Brexit talks
The papers said
Not money talks
I've been misled.
Photo by James Frid on
The Christmas Newsletter

So, if by chance you meet
And concern is in her voice
Our living on the street
Is environmental choice

Chelsea Owen's challenge was to write
an annoying Christmas newsletter 
Photo by Public Domain Pictures on

I don't believe in a God
Where we all go to church and pray
But say one for me and my squad
Insurance does not go astray
Photo by Pixabay on
The golfer

he failed to make the golfing cut
When the judges raised the bar
Then mum fell in the water-butt
So he lost both Ma and Par.
Photo by Pixabay on

I do love words like dollop
It has a lovely ring
Plop, trollop, lollop, wallop
They make my soul sing.
Photo by on

pandemic tenterhooks
vaccine imminent
whole world crosses fingers.
Photo by Kaboompics .com on
The Daily Paradox

Undercover reporter
sheds light
on conspirators
conspiring against
conspiracy theories.
Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on

Santa was their Christmas treat
She'd taken them for years
When Archie asked for granddad back
She couldn't stop the tears.

Photo by Ali Pazani on

One girl's hair is wavy
Which fashion don't permit
Hair straighteners, the answer
They cost her quite a bit.

The sister's though is ramrod straight
But she wants wavy hair
So she wraps it all in rollers
tell me, where's the logic there?
Photo by Matthew DeVries on
The Church

First appearance, 
One November
Cried a bit
But don't remember.

Second time
A lovely sight
Never seen her
Dressed in white.

Last time there
The incense curled
Couldn't smell it
Dead to the world.
Photo by Pixabay on

My wife wants me to leave
Pack my bags, wants shot
Wished misery on me, so
Dilemma, do I go or not?
Photo by Ann Nekr on
Instant Food

Curry in a hurry
Soup in a cup
Oven chips, instant mash
Where will it all end up.

In the UK chips are fat french fries
Photo by Donald Tong on

You say 
That you love me
But you won't
Do that
It's not a lot to ask
Not all the time
Just now and then
Would be nice
To show that
You really do
Love me
And it's not
Just words
A little sign of respect
That would not
Go amiss
I'm not asking a lot
Am I
So please try it for once
It won't hurt you
The next time
I'd really appreciate it
You could
See your way to
Putting the seat down.
Photo by Pixabay on
A tough life

The next time
You have the temerity
to complain
That your steak is tough
Try to look at it
From the cow's perspective.
Photo by Artem Beliaikin on
Photo by Anne on
Hurley Burley

Kay Burley
Meets Liz Hurley
Nice dress
Good press.
Photo by Gustavo Fring on

Our shopping trip took longer
When he forgot the money
If we hadn't lived ten miles away
It would have been quite funny.
Photo by Mu00e9line Waxx on

It's alright now
Because you see, I'm Free
and if you get that pun
Then you're as old as me.
Photo by Tim Mossholder on

His teeth scrubbed with a bog brush
Which Dave claimed stopped decay
Had turned his teeth bright orange
And kept the girls away.
Photo by abhishek goel on
The Firm

she needs well oiled machine
she gets a well oiled drunk
her firm collapses.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on

One is smaller
He hears girlfriend snigger
A worrying thought when
He thought one was bigger.

Snigger; UK slang for titter, giggle

Photo by Ronu00ea Ferreira on

Batman's caught the virus
Lost his sense of taste
Won't come and get his
Dinner, dinner, dinner, dinner
What a blooming waste.
Photo by cottonbro on

My gran
Was so funny
Always made me laugh
She would say
"Watch her
She's a flibbertigibbet.
Great word gran!

Flibbertigibbet, a frivolous, flighty or excessively talkative person.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on

She dissatisfies
He diversifies
She tries
He falsifies
She identifies
He denies
She spies
He solidifies
She pries
He lies
She clarifies
He justifies
She decries
He mortifies
She vilifies
He pacifies
She amplifies
He sighs
She goodbyes
He cries
Love dies.

Photo by Omran Jamal on
Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty
Sat on the fence
He had no opinions
And no common sense.

All of the papers
And all of the news
Couldn't get Humpty
To tell us his views.
Photo by Pok Rie on
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Hey Diddle Diddle

Hey diddle diddle
My dad's on the fiddle
And mum's run away with a neighbour
I'm in the pink
But I'm heading for clink
Where my girlfriend, sixteen, is in labour.
Photo by JACK REDGATE on
The chuckle muscle deep in his belly
Is in for a whole load of welly
He gives mum a squeeze and a cuddle
Wriggles free and jumps straight in a puddle.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
The Story
Sally's story had won the first prize
Though she wasn't particularly clever
Mum swelled with some pride and surprise
When she heard teacher say, "Best end ever."
When I questioned my mummy
How I got in her tummy
She said daddy had planted a seed
Well that was a hard 'un
Cos we have no garden
And daddy does nothing but read.
Photo by Oleg Magni on
The Tongue
My tongue has been...
tormenting, tasting, teasing, tickling, tackling
tactless, teaching, tawdry, tatty, tubby, tattling

twisted, tangled, tigerish, talkative, testy
tingling, terse, telling, temperamental, tetchy

technicolour, talking, turbo, tragic, tedious
tender, taking, talented, taxing, tenacious.

trademark, tricky, touching, tongue-tied, tolerant
topical, toadying, tart, tardy, turbulent.

Maybe I should give it a rest for now!
Photo by Skitterphoto on
A Four Letter Word
This isn't a word
I use much in life
If I do, I'm in trouble
Most of all with my wife.

According to her
It's belittling and cheap
I admit, among men
We use it a heap.

It's a four letter word
That starts with a 'C'
Women don't like it
Demeans them you see.

The debate rages on
It is used all the time
But if I dare to say it
My life's not worth a dime.

So, you know how it starts
But those other three
I won't spell it out
But it ends with a 'T.'

And women don't like it
But men clearly do
For this four letter word
I have one final clue.

It is spoken the most
When out for a shop
Husbands open their mouths
And partners shout,"Stop."

Have you worked it out now
I know you're not lost
This troublesome word
Well, it's quite simply...cost.
Photo by John Lambeth on
Joe used to love tractors
but not any more
he's an ex tractor fan.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on
The Unknown Warrior
A million fell
You were chosen
A shortlist of four
From the Aisne, the Somme, Arras, Ypres
Draped in the flag
Of the country you died for
You were chosen
One cold November morning
In a small chapel in St.Pol
Brigadier General Wyatt
Chose you
A kings sword
A coffin of solid oak
Were chosen
Buried at the heart
Of an English abbey
In French soil
Amongst poets and kings
You are 
And will be
for centuries to come
We salute the sacrifice
of you 
and all the comrades 
you represent
Thank you
For your choice
For your sacrifice.

Photo by cottonbro on

Photo by cottonbro on
Trust is
a fragile flower
which once
must be 
carefully repaired
and can never
be fully restored.
Photo by Pixabay on
Day that we met
Best day of my life.

Day you broke my trust
Cried myself to sleep.

Day you came back
I couldn't be arsed.

Photo by Engin Akyurt on
The flames were prolific
The heat was terrific
The words from the kitchen profane
My nice chicken roast
Is burned black as toast
Sunday lunch has been ruined again.

Photo by Daria Sannikova on
A teacher, not known for sobriety
Gave her students a taste of variety
Her swearing backfired
When, improperly attired
She was sacked for a lack of propriety.
Photo by Jill Wellington on
The Sun
I was dazzled by the sun
Gazed toward her with defiance
For just a shade too long
And was blinded by the science.
Photo by Element5 Digital on
aloof, arrogant
posturing, proposing, persuading
president, challenger, ballot-box, voters
dithering, deliberating, deciding
unheeded, uncounted
Photo by Pixabay on
I snipped a hair from out my ear
A full three inches long
From where on earth did that appear
I'm getting like King Kong.
Photo by Pixabay on
It used to be
Cops and robbers
Cowboys and Indians
Japs and Commandos.

Now it's all
The Legend of Zelda
And Grand Theft Autos.

Photo by cottonbro on
What makes kippers giddy
Why are hot dogs hot
And why do fish have fingers
I've wondered that a lot.

Poached eggs, are they stolen
Flapjack, does it panic
And is this tripe made up of trash
Or something more organic?
Photo by Huu1ef3nh u0110u1ea1t on
Colour telly snooker
Exciting when brand new
Watching this in black and white?
The pink's behind the blue.
Photo by Pixabay on
A book fell on my head
Yes, landed on myself
I know that I'm well read
But I have to blame my shelf.
Photo by Buenosia Carol on
The bottom fell out of my world
When you left me gutted and rotten
So, I went on my own for a curry
Then the world fell out of my bottom.
Photo by Jurie Maree on
Whilst watching I.P.L
I had an I.P.A
The cricket rather swell
The beer was way okay.

I.P.L Indian Premier League cricket
I.P.A India Pale Ale beer
Photo by Pixabay on
Labour faces civil war
Corbyn's been suspended
One week he's their leader
The next, he's been upended.

Starmer tries to sort it out
This problem with the Jews
Jeremy sees it differently
In public, airs his views.

The fact that he goes public
Leaves Starmer with no choice
With trouble brewing in their ranks
Who'll have the strongest voice.

Former Labour party leader Jeremy Corbyn was 
suspended from the party after a disagreement 
with new leader Kier Starmer about the way 
that Labour was dealing with anti-semetism 
in the party.

Photo by Element5 Digital on
America goes to the polls
Economy versus the virus
Despite all the internet trolls
A peaceful result is desirous.
Photo by Pixabay on
Tomorrow ends furlough
Will I get my job back
Or like thousands of others
Be given the sack?
Photo by Igor Haritanovich on
Shall I go to Big Bucks
I've money in my jacket
But no, their coffee sucks
I'll go to Costa Packet
Photo by C Technical on
Pam bought a hanging basket
Discounted in a minute
When she told the garden centre
That there was no fuchsia in it.
Photo by Pixabay on
It's happened again in France
This time, a cathedral in Nice
What exactly is wrong with some people
Why can't we all live in peace?
Photo by Callum Hilton on
They've found water on the moon
Might be enough to drink
This news could not have come too soon
For holidays, I think.

No need for social distancing
No more Covid 19
I feel so happy, I could sing
Somewhere I haven't been.

I'll take a bucket and a spade
My pint glass for the pub
A brolly too for in the shade
I hope they serve good grub.

I'm all packed up and set to go
Need Boris's decree
Because the little so and so
Has put me in tier three.
Photo by Romu00e9o on
A tale of two princes
Prince Charles
Is isolating
At Balmoral
Covid 19.

Prince Andrew
Is isolating
At Windsor
Jennifer, 14.

(origin unknown)
Photo by Brett Sayles on
Grave vandalised
Surprise, surprise
Of Cilla OBE
Though not a saint
Why spray with paint
It seems bizarre to me.

Doddy too
What Diddy do
He brought us happiness
Both rest in peace
It's just caprice
Some folk are bad, I guess.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
In Covid hit Wales
They have limited sales
To items considered essential
A wife was refused
An item that's used
By ladies in ways confidential
Until a chappy spoke out
And cleared up the doubt
In a voice that was quite presidential.

A woman in Wales was refused sanitary products in her local Tesco's. The welsh government later claimed that this was a misinterpretation of their new Covid rules.
Photo by Dominika Roseclay on
I read in the papers that Burnley
Are getting a striker, that's cool
They only paid twenty five million
He probably still goes to school.
Photo by EYAD Tariq on
First encounter
I spied her in the cafe
Dipping brioche, chocolate chipped
She said she was Parisian
"Why, that's capital," I quipped.
Photo by Element5 Digital on
The election
The language is incomprehensible
His rhetoric largely dispensable
Some of his views indefensible
Why can't this man say something sensible?
Photo by Pixabay on
Old Friends
There are holes in my sock
And a hole in my shoe
They have been round the block
And my toes all peek through.

I could buy some more
But I've got quite attached
They were worn to the funeral
When my wife was dispatched.

Only joking darling...
Photo by mali maeder on
Funny Habits
In Burnley they pour gravy
On their cheese and onion pie
I only have one question
Why, oh why, oh why?
Photo by Stas Knop on
My clocks went back this morning
It's daylight saving time
It took two hours to alter them
A blooming pantomime.

A slight exaggeration, but you get the drift...
Photo by Brett Sayles on
Children talk of
Monsters and Santa
Adults engage in
Cruel banter.

Kids believe
In the Easter bunny
Grown ups worship
The power of money.

Children want
Sweets, hugs and toys
Adults seek
Refuge from noise.

Anything naughty
An adult forbids
What adults want mostly
They want to be kids.

Photo by Adrian Boustead on
I've thought about one
But I'm scared of the pain
Will it fade with the sun
Or wash off with the rain?

A small one to start
Nothing too flash
Perhaps a love-heart
Do I have to pay cash?

The tattooist's gun
Starts up with a whine
My idea of fun?
Nope, I've changed my mind.
Photo by Pixabay on
There's a girl at my school
Who's called Lizzy Gorenje
Which I think is cool
Cos her name rhymes with orange.

There is no rhyme for orange
But don't tell Lizzie G.
Photo by Sharefaith on
Tell me then, on what basis
When you listen his views
Is Trump not a racist
Or is that his fake news?
Photo by Git Stephen Gitau on
Dearest darling Lynne
You're the tonic in my gin
But when you eat, you gobble
And when you laugh, you wobble.

My one and only Sam
I love the way I am
But you're an ugly git
I've had enough, I quit.
Photo by Porapak Apichodilok on
For You
Here's a poem for you
I wrote it by myself
If I hadn't made it up
It would still be on the shelf.
Photo by Pixabay on
The world is using less paper
Most of my books are on Kindle
This must be a good thing, right
As all of our rain-forests dwindle.

I don't even use any cash now
I pay everything credit card
But how do I wipe my bum though
This laptop's too rigid, too hard.
Photo by Paula Schmidt on
If wheels were square
Instead of round
Cars would be useless
For getting around

If schools were round
instead of square
There'd be no naughty corner
And no naughty chair.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on

The Poet
I have realised, when I cark it
What will become of my blog
Who can I trust with my laptop
My buddy, my missus, my dog?

So, I'm now looking for an apprentice
To train 'ere I finally go
Otherwise you will wake up one morning
To no more little poems from Hobbo.
Photo by Pixabay on
Poet Don
There's a poet, Don, who lives in Oz
Who writes a little blog
Which often stars his cat
And occasionally his dog.

His poetry is funny
His wit it bewitches
And some of his comments
Will leave you in stitches.

He should have more follows
But he's been overlooked
So give Don a try
And I bet you'll be hooked.

Poet Don lives in Australia, and publishes three or four short posts every day. He's one of the first bloggers I started following on a regular basis because some of his stuff is really funny. I think he should have a lot more followers. Please give him a try and see if you agree.
   The link is;
(This is an unsolicited personal recommendation)
Photo by Pixabay on
My cosy little home
A shelter from the storm
Wood burning on the stove
My tootsies nice and warm.
Photo by Tembela Bohle on
I pondered the meaning of life
Gave it some serious thought
The answer, the edge of a knife
Either beer, or maybe it's, sport.

Photo by Flickr on
Granddad loved his dogs
He'd kept them all his life
So when he popped his clogs
He left one to his wife.

Photo by Pixabay on
Oh, what a caper
A clean sheet of paper
I need inspiration
Shall I try medication?

Something ongoing
Would set juices flowing
Is this writer's curse
Or do I call it blank verse?
Photo by Julia Kuzenkov on
Bill and Ben, the flowerpot men
Talked rubbish, splobalop
When politicians do it then
Is it something they can't stop?
Photo by Pixabay on
Water, water everywhere
And not a drop to drink
I've fallen in the ship canal
And my,it don't half stink.
Photo by Edward Eyer on

Van Halen
When I found out, I cried
The news was so shocking
Van Halen has died
I bet heaven is rocking.
Photo by Pixabay on
Graham Liver
Graham's show
On in the morning
Makes me laugh
And stops me yawning.

His surname's Liver
As in diver
Don't say liver
as in river.

...although he does know his onions.
Photo by Aaron Kittredge on
Was Donald genuinely ill
Or was it just a stunt?
We should accept face value, still
We know the man's a ****.
Photo by Bhupendra Singh on
Owain Evans makes me grin
With lilting, sing-song vowel
His quiffed hairdo, and perfect skin
More camp than Baden Powell.

He's very entertaining though
Attracting interest
Through sun and wind and rain and snow
And those suits are the best.

Photo by fauxels on
Downtown in Burnley the people wear shorts
Perhaps it's a Lancashire thing
Baring knees at the first sign of Summer
And airing them, through until Spring.

Calves that are shapely, knees that are knobbly
Legs that could win the Gold Cup
Braving arctic conditions, blowing a hooley
These things should be kept covered up.

In cold or in rain, folk put on their coats
Whilst waiting for sunnier skies
But even in wellies, they're still wearing shorts
Must be something they put in their pies.

Photo by Emma Bauso on
Happy Anniversary
Married now for fifty year
And I still think you're hot
So, love is in the air, my dear
When you say, "Yes. Why not?
Photo by Anthony Beck on
It's our own fault
We chose to exit
Talks at a halt
A no-deal Brexit?
Photo by Jackson David on
My hair
Thrives everywhere
In my ears
Up my nose
Trim it off
Back it grows
Bushy eyebrows
Very scary
Why am I
So blooming hairy?
Photo by Anna Shvets on
The sight of so much litter
Has left me feeling bitter
Find a bin for that used mask
It's not a lot to ask.
Photo by Elizabeth Tr. Armstrong on
The challenge

A beautiful woman named Claire
Sent her dad down a wire for a dare
Like Castor and Pollux
They trussed up his bollocks
The height of it gave him a scare.

He flew through the air like a plane
From Portugal right into Spain
She was clearly so proud
But he said to the crowd
"You won't get me on it again."

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on
Crazy Maisie, ticky tocky
Oops a daisy, Jabberwocky
Easy peasy, squishy squashy
Lemon squeezy, wishy washy

Steady Eddie, sweet as honey
Fiery Freddie, funny bunny
Buster Grimes and chilly Willy
Nonsense rhymes are just plain silly.
Photo by Life Matters on
Black lives matter

Black lives matter, our latest refrain
Praying this time, the phrase will remain
Until at last our mindset's been changed
Living in peace, no culture estranged.

Look at the States, so many have died
For trivial stuff, police homicide?
The many campaigns, like 'I can't breathe'
'Sandie speaks' and 'Taking the knee.'

Black lives matter, but if you adjoint
White lives, all lives, you're missing the point
Mikey Holding, the sports commentator
Eruditely explained what the campaign's for.

Hundreds of years racial exclusion
Frustration breeds, blacks need inclusion
No one's born bad, from parents our views
Neighbours and teachers, the six o'clock news.

What we need then, good education
Learn to be friends, no segregation
'Black lives matter,' really, I get it
Let's make changes, let's not forget it.
Photo by ANDRu00c9 FELLIPE on
My Hat Collection

Picking hats for my collection
My choice has been meticulous
I only wear them one at once
Or I would look ridiculous.
I'll start of with my baseball caps
I've collected five of these
Two were from sunny Australia
Where shade can hit forty degrees.

There's a cap from Canada's Bamf
Embroidered with proud Maple Leaf
Whilst one from our amis in France
Has the Eiffel Tower motif.
My golfing favourite was purchased
At the British Open event
Where Darren Clarke beat all the others
In sunshine, at Sandwich, in Kent.

So cheap is an old knotted hanky
It's one that I almost forgot
The sun can not get at my head
If it's cloudy, I fill it with snot.
A real Aussie bush hat from Perth
Is just the sartorial ticket
And a foldable one from Tasmania
Perfect for watching the cricket.

My fedora from M and S
I sport with an elegant style
And wearing my chequered flat cap
I look like the Duke of Argyle.
In winter the ear flaps come down
When cold snow and hail starts to fall
But my scary old balaclava
I find it the warmest of all.

Photo by Helena Lopes on
Simon was famous on Facebook
Had hundreds of friends in his life
Yet no one he actually spoke to
No buddies, no girlfriend, no wife.

His success was repeated on Twitter
One million followers plus
But he came to a violent ending
Knocked down by the number nine bus.

The money he made from his adverts
Was left to his favourite quartet
And mum organised a huge funeral
For all of his friends on the net.

Though no one showed up, not a sausage
To see Simon the Superstar off
In reality, he was as popular
As a man with a bad Covid cough.

So, if you are an internet wizard
With a wit that's as sharp as a knife
Don't forget to engage with real people
Get up and get out, get a life.

Photo by Valeria Boltneva on
The dozens of words and expressions
To describe what's a drunken condition
Makes me realise, being out of your tree
Is a time honoured human condition.

Drunk as a soldier, drunk as a sailor
Drunk as a Lord, drunk as a skunk
Drunk as a fiddler, drunk as a fart
Drunk as an owl, just plain drunk.

Intoxicated, inebriated
Bombed, bladdered, pissed
Smashed up, sewed up, tanked up
Flushed, tiddly, Brahms and Liszt.

Crapulous, maudlin
Out of it, befuddled
Raddled, addled, primed, screwed
Happy, merry, muddled.

Boozed, tight, tipsy
Obfuscated, fuzzy
Three sheets to the wind
Gaga, giggly, muzzy.

Search a synonym for sober though
The well is almost dry
A boring state to be in
So, "Cheers. Mud in your eye."

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
Cross Family Butchers
At Cross family butchers,our food is nutritious
And all of our meat is simply delicious
Burgers or sausages, steaks or a joint
Give us a try, we won't disappoint.
And as for your barbies.what better idea
Than out deal of the day washed down with cold beer.

Photo by P C on
Two right good mates
Meet up in a pub
They have a great time 
And eat lots of grub.

They drink loads of beer
Then, needing a wee
They follow each other
It's normal, you see.

One says to the other
"This trough's a bit high."
"Mines longer," he said
"I'll give it a try."

Then he looks across
A girl's washing her hands
It's a sink, not a trough
Fast, he understands.

They've gone in the ladies
Instead of the gents
The lass does not laugh
Pays no complements.

Both so embarrassed 
The two stop mid-pee
Then zip up their trousers
And giggling, they flee.

Photo by Snapwire on
The Restaurant

"My sirloin is tough."

"This wine's a bit rough."

"It's busy, I know
But service is slow."

"My soup's almost cold."

"This bread's five days old."

"Toilets are dirty."

"That waiter is shirty."

"Has B.O moreover."

"Shush, he's coming over."

"Ladies!  Everything fine?"

"Yes thanks.  Some more wine!"

Photo by Lukas on
I like kids, honestly
I went to school with some
But I couldn't eat a full one
I'd get a poorly tum.
Photo by Pixabay on
Alcohol and me
Now that's a complex one
Makes me do some stupid things
But I've had a lot of fun.

The life and soul of parties
Singing karaoke
Remembering all the gags
That's me, Mr Jokey.

I've woken in some states
Nowhere near my best
I've been sick on the streets
And woken fully dressed.

Things I am ashamed of
Which, sober wouldn't do
But drink gave me the courage
To whisper,"I love you."

And you are everything
So tell me, in the end
Is drink one of my demons
Or a very fickle friend.
Photo by Florent B. on
You'll be a Northern Powerhouse
They promised the North West
We're now the Covid Capital
Does that mean we're the best?

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