Photo by Anna Shvets on

a state of mind
on nothing
a state of mind.
Photo by Mike on
RIP Jennifer

Here lies the body
Of Jennifer Dyer
Nylon nightie
Met open fire.

Photo by Mike on
RIP Mabel

Here lies the body
Of Mabel Moon
Misread the label
As tablespoon.
Photo by Lina Kivaka on

Autumn's reached, now we've retired
Athletes shot, who've run their race
No need for claims that we're inspired
At work, not told to watch our place.

For forty years we've done our share
We put our shoulders to the plough
No more mortgage, no more care
It's time for some enjoyment now.

Kids are gone, we've scraped some savings
We even get our pensions paid
Shall we now indulge our cravings
Spend this little pot we've made.

A cottage would be great, but face it
We haven't got enough my dear
A brand new car, so Scamp can chase it
Frivolous, I hear you sneer.

We've talked at length, discussion's done
Ambitious plans, and things beneath
It's not a holiday in the sun
It's hearing aids and brand new teeth.
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on
My Body

I don't like my ears, I hate my nose
My weight, my face, my hair, my tum
My voice, my hands, my knees, my toes
But I quite admire my bum.
Photo by Helena Lopes on
Greedy girl

She ate a considerable eyeful
A veritable tower of trifle
Got cramps in her belly
From all that red jelly
Which the greedy girl struggled to stifle.
Photo by Magda Ehlers on

It might cause ringing
But let's face facts
What is so lyrical
About ears full of wax.
Photo by Kate Amos on
A Spectacle

Eyes, the window to our soul
But glasses let me see the hole
into which I nearly fell
Where's my specs, oh bloody hell!
Photo by Dominique Nelson-Esch on
Hurry Up!

Dinner's on the table
Frustration in that shout
Be down in just a minute
The turtle's head's popped out.
Photo by Jeswin Thomas on

human company
until we are lonely.
Photo by Ami Suhzu on
He made his appearance one Tuesday
Supposedly child full of grace
The lad had hung on for a day
Because Monday is child fair of face.

Born in the year 1950
To a mum who was very contented
She swaddled her son in a bin bag
Lucky boy, they had just been invented.

The new I.P.A had been formed
That's the thing for police not the beer
Shirley Temple announced her retirement
So it promised to be a good year.

The Archers began in that year
Uruguay had won the World Cup
And what with the birth of young Tony
Things were generally thought on the up.

A new comic, The Eagle, was published
For boys with its hero Dan Dare
Billy Ocean had his first appearance
But the going was tough to be fair.

Billy Ocean competed with Tony
A lad with an eye for the girls
Tony talked money, had patter
Poor Billy had only his curls.

A bit of success with the ladies
But his marriages didn't go right
So sad for a working class hero
Though try and deny this he might.

At Bruche he was called Albert Wangford
And delighted in taking the piss
Gang of four with his three other buddies
Was something he just could not miss.

The one thing that makes Tony proud
Is his entrepreneurial flair
If one of his schemes ever makes it
Then he'll be a millionaire.

His book that would keep your new bike safe
Another to help you to slim
The cycle idea was a washout
And the diet did not work for him.

Now that he's managed to reach seventy
We should all celebrate, you'll agree
The best thing that's happened to Tony
Meeting his partner, young Fi.
Photo by Mark Vegera on
The Wreck

Implants for mouth
Aids to help hearing
Feel like a car
Relentlessly nearing
End of its life
Dear to maintain
Cost more and more
Money down drain
Unlike the motor
Can't trade me in
Stuck with this body
Pass me that gin.

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on
Granddad is so old now
His back has got a crick
I think my Gramps was born
When the Dead Sea first got sick.
Photo by Engin Akyurt on
The Abuser
You have
A way of saying sorry
Which makes me feel
Like it's my fault.
Photo by Juan Vargas on
The daydreamer
Here lies the body 
Of Emily Spode
Distracted by life
As she crossed the main road.
The Truth
Back at the dentist again
She says, "Can you handle the tooth?"
"Please cut out the jokes, I'm in pain
Give it me straight, what's the truth?"

"Well, you need yet another extraction
The tooth has to go, I'm afraid."
"That's the fourth one this year," my reaction
"Do you think it's of money I'm made?"

"You're going to need something to chew on
Unless you like soup in a cup
I can make you some dentures to glue on
Or get some posh implants knocked up."

Well, teeth in a jar I don't fancy
To be kept, just in case, by the door
So call me a bit of a Nancy
But the implants are what I went for.

It costs though an arm and also a leg
The answer's crowd funding I know
If I do this then I won't need to beg
I'll call the page gobbo for Hobbo.

Photo by Aaron Johnson on
The Widow
when you promised
till death us do part
I never thought
it would happen.
Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on
Covid nineteen
Two fingers to you
At last a vaccine 
To protect us, woohoo!

...bring it on baby.
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The surgeon
She worked with precision
And no supervision
Until the collision
As she made her incision
Led to circumcision
An unwanted division
Result, her derision.

Photo by Brett Sayles on
Rest in Peace
Here lies the body
Of Benjamin Doyle
Whose nurse got mixed up
When they said prick his boil.

Photo by Eric Cheng on
Not Me
A talented sculptor, artistic
With a lifestyle, described hedonistic
Thin as a waif
Assumed he was safe
From Covid, is one more statistic.
Photo by Rosemary Ketchum on
More dead from Covid nineteen
Than were killed in fourteen-eighteen
Second World War, Vietnam
And still this man don't give a damn.

Democracy, well that's a joke
The wishes of ordinary folk
Discounted on merely a whim
But not if you voted for him.
Photo by Pixabay on
Ring a ring o' roses
Cover mouths and noses
Hospital full, before the cull
We're all locked down.
Photo by cottonbro on
Girl Power
Remember, remember, the fifth of November
The U.K's in lock-down again
To beat this disease, sack all the M.P's
Put a woman in charge, with a brain.

Photo by Life Of Pix on
Best holiday ever
We should never have chosen off peak
It was raining, the car sprang a leak
David squashed granny's best hat
Baby Alfie was sick on the cat.

On the moors, dad ran over a ram
An hour later, we're stuck in a jam
We got there too late for the ferry
Mum found the bar and got merry.

We arrived there to find we'd left gran
At the caff, with a man from Japan
Our five star was under construct
And all of the rooms double booked.

The bathroom and toilet were dirty
The waiters and waitresses shirty
My purse and my handbag got nicked
And our sightseeing coaches were bricked.

The food gave young Lucy the trots
And Christopher broke out in spots
German measles, our french doctor said
And confined him to ten days in bed.

Paragliding, my mum sprained her back
Sadly, dad had a mild heart attack
We learned from a broker named Khalid
Our insurance was no longer valid.

Going home, despite begging and pleading
Dad got a ticket for speeding
When the copper told dad he could start
Our tyres were as flat as a fart.

Once home, track-traced for Covid 19
So then, yes you've guessed, quarantine
And because we are now isolating
This vacation gets zero star rating.
Photo by mali maeder on
Locked Down
On a planet that is unrecognisable
A lock-down is becoming advisable
Some follow the rules
A few act like fools
Whilst for others, the subject's divisible.

Photo by Taryn Elliott on
You are the butter on my bread
The salt upon my chips
I'll love you till you're dead
Despite your dodgy hips.

And you're the sugar in my tea
The cream upon my pie
Though your undies smell of wee
I will love you till I die.
Photo by Pixabay on
I want a circuit breaker
I'm in a tier three town
I'm up for anything
That brings my leccy down.

Leccy is slang for electricity or electricity bill
Photo by Pixabay on
Rock on Tommy
Funny faces
Made us laugh
With trademark braces.

Comedy legend
Missed by all
Gone forever
Bobby Ball.
Photo by Micael Widell on
What's Covid?
Here lies the body 
Of Caroline Crump
Coronavirus denier
Who listened to Trump.
Photo by Dids on
"Water on the brain,"
So the doctor said
"Don't worry," she explained
"A quick tap on the head."
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on
The Black Dog
You are the sunshine of my life
You are, you really are
Why does it keep raining then
My little superstar?
Photo by Anna Shvets on
Is a pandemic
Of too many
On the planet
It can't
Mean that
Can it?

Photo by Pixabay on
Vanishing Youth
You are no longer in your youth
So I'll remove that pesky tooth
I know there's wisdom in it
But we're going to have to bin it.

Brace yourself for this injection
I'll get rid of your infection
And the toothache that was raging
Is now a gap, first signs of ageing.

Your mouth will start to droop
But you can have a little soup
Now, if you're feeling better
Here's my bill and thank you letter.

Photo by Juan Vargas on
Mrs Mopp
Here lies the body
Of Madeleine Mopp
The sign wasn't 'Give Way'
It was quite clearly 'Stop.'
Photo by Michaela on
Dear Diary
Monday dentist, Tuesday doctor's
(Socially apart)
Wednesday have my hearing checked
Thursday, specialist for my heart.

Friday, get my toupee cleaned
Saturday, food from shops
Sunday, Covid lockdown
And all my pleasure stops.
Photo by Inzmam Khan on
I love my sons
I love my wife
I love my dog
I love my life.

Why is it then
If I'm so blessed
That once again
I'm damn depressed.

Get out of my mind...I hate you.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
Eternal dark, eternal light
No one can be certain
If our eternal soul takes flight
When life, closes it's curtain.
Photo by Pixabay on
House is asleep
Apart from me
I've counted sheep
I've been for a pee.

Sheets in a heap
Partner snoring
She is in deep
God this is boring.

It's just turned three
Street's so quiet
I'll make some tea
And sod the diet.

Tea did not work
Gave me heartburn
Feel such a berk
Will I never learn?

Read till I ache
Just start to drift
Shaken awake
"You're on early shift."
Photo by Ethan Brooke on
I am not dead, I will not die
And Covid won't beat me because
When this is over, then I'll fly
For six weeks holiday to Oz
Photo by Pixabay on
Today I said goodbye
To yet another tooth
I cannot tell a lie
It hurt, and that's the truth.

I have to go again
And face a day of reckoning
No more aches or pain though
My false teeth are beckoning.
Photo by Mike on
A funeral plan, the ad man said
Is necessary, a must
To pay expenses when I'm dead
When dust returns to dust.

I listened well, did not dismiss
But what a paradox
When all; life's labours come to this
I've paid for my own box.
Photo by Karolina Grabowska on
The Flu Jab

Oh, it's good to be alive
I'm really quite excited
At the age of sixty five
For my flu jab, I'm invited.

The nurse (Fat and gum-chewing)
Drew a target on my bum
Asked, "What do you think you're doing?"
Replied, "It's social distance chum."

My trembling arm she grabbed
And joked,"Don't worry matey
The last one that I stabbed
I scored the max, one eighty."

So, now I'm flu resistant
I should be feeling cool
But, Covid's more persistent
And I'm nobody's fool.

Photo by Edward Jenner on
Often a target for bullies
Not the handsomest kid in the shop
But over the last month or so
The teasing has come to a stop.

Now, I can join in with the others
"Why's that?" you might very well ask
Well, it's thanks to the outbreak of Covid
You see, I look great in a mask.

Photo by Irina Iriser on
Warning Labels
'Smoking kills,' Sally read on the packet
As she bent down to pick up her litter
So engrossed, she did not hear the racket
Of the thirty ton lorry that hit her.

Photo by cottonbro on
Coronavirus Days
In happier days
To paraphrase
Folk led a great existence
Now they deep clean
Covid 19
And keep their social distance.

Photo by Nandhu Kumar on
My mum, and Covid
My mum has turned ninety, so I cannot go
And visit her care home, to just say "hello."
I can sell my house,to a stranger it seems
Or play golf in the park with the man of my dreams.

If I go to the shops, I keep six feet apart
But try telling that to the silly old fart
Who blocks up the aisle whilst he's choosing his bread
Move you old git, or I might end up dead.

I can't see my mum, and that really hurts
But we all have to act upon what the experts
Say is the best way to beat this disease
No, Mr Trump, don't blame the Chinese.

Every Thursday night then, I'll go out and clap
Our great N.H.S who deserve a backslap
For all their hard work, and when it's all done
I'll raise a glass of champagne, to my mum, ninety-one.

Photo by Pixabay on
Growing Old

The memory is shot
Hands constantly shake
Am I losing the plot?
My joints always ache.
I've lost most of my teeth
And all of my hair
What lies underneath
That oft vacant stare?

A distant daydream
Of fond souvenirs
Or deaf as I seem
Just wax in my ears.
It's not by design
I accumulate ills.
I've turned infantine
On tablets and pills.

Lotions and potions
Towel and pad
Even my motions
Examined, how sad.  

And as for the sex
Of those halcyon days
I'll just get my specs
And read what it says
On this bottle I've got
The writing's so small
What a load of old rot
Viagra cures all.