Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Fast forward
Posted on 23rd Oct 2021
Fast forward Pacemaker fitted, poo tests for cancer, whatever became of that once great romancer. Regular health checks, heart rate is naughty and as for my pulse, it's two hundred and forty! The sex life, once active I thought was forever, Is slowly declining from rarely, to never. Each new health crisis brings on hypertension, I should have skipped childhood, moved straight to my pension!
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A bit of a lump
Posted on 15th Sep 2021
A bit of a lump Little Hitler sat down at 'er desk, Insisted I 'ad to explain, So, red as the wrong coloured rose, I did so in order to gain Access to see me own doctor, What took me best part of eight week, So, by 'time it come round to a visit, Well, stuff were beginning to leak! I am finally inside of the surgery, And 'missus is 'olding me 'and, She 'ad to come with me for reasons, You'll pretty much soon understand. I've discovered a lump, I admitted It's in an embarrassing place, So, I thought it would need checking out, As the magazines say, just in case. My doctor's the female persuasion, Protocol says, she needs chaperone, I don't 'ave any objections, So, she's straight away onto the phone. A third woman knocks and then enters, This started off bad, and gets worse, Don't worry about me Sir, I'm trained, And I am a registered nurse. I jokingly say why not invite All the receptionist staff. None of them looked very busy, Ask them all in, for a laugh! My trousers reluctantly dropped, And I'm asked, is that all you've got? As I turn a deep shade of red, She explains, she is meaning the spot. She asks, looking up From down on her knees, How did you find this? Oh, think doctor - please! She proddles and pushes, Turns it around, It's hard looking cool With your pants on the ground. Finished, get dressed. I'll just check me books. Me and the missus Exchange worried looks. She shows me some photos, Dicks by the dozen, I swear on my life, That's the spit of my cousin! No need to worry, It's not S.T.D, Tha's a small fatty lump, It's got no pedigree. Wi' a ginormous smile Spreading ovver me face, Me and the missus Dash back to our place.
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A personal problem
Posted on 4th Aug 2021
A personal problem
The optician told me
That I have floaters!
Toilet problems are private
And no one likes gloaters!
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Emma
Posted on 24th Jul 2021
Emma
Emma Royd's piles
Were driving her wild,
Grapes of Wrath would be perfectly true,
She inserted a plum
To bung up her bum,
And now she's in Catch 22!
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It’s a sign
Posted on 24th Jul 2021
It's a sign
Sunday, I wake up with the world's worst headache.
Monday, the headache is even worse. My doctor thinks I may have a tumour!
Tuesday, MRI scan and tests at the hospital.
Wednesday, test results are all negative. Doctors are convinced that stress is the cause.
Thursday, there is a horse running in the 2.30 tomorrow called Stress Headache. It's a sign! Stake a whole months pension on her finishing first.
Friday, Stress Headache finishes a close second to Gambling Fool. I lose the lot.
Saturday, Go out and drown my sorrows.
Sunday, I wake up with the world's worst headache...
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The Rash
Posted on 21st Jul 2021
The Rash She developed an angry red rash And was round at the doc's in a flash. Not skirting the houses, She was told, drop your trousers. Examined then dressed, The doc was impressed, She'd contracted a virus, Caught from papyrus. Disapp it was called, And the doctor recalled, She could give her some cream Which would sure make her scream, Prescription was ointment, She wrote, disapp ointment.. Dauphy: That's not a rash, it's a spotty frog! Hobbo: I know, but I couldn't find a picture of a rash on WordPress. Dauphy: So, was it a frog who went to the doctor's? Hobbo: No! Dauphy: The doctor was a frog? Hobbo: No Dauphy, the doctor was not a frog. The woman had spots. Dauphy; Like the frog? Hobbo: Yes Dauphy, like the frog. Dauphy: If you'd said so in the first place!
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What children need…
Posted on 15th Jul 2021
What children need... Snuggles and cuddles And jumping in puddles, Chocolate and cheesecake And noises that bees make, Laughter and lollies And jim-jams and jollies, Christmas and Santa And juvenile banter, Loving and laughter And dads acting dafter, Old pals, and new friends And mazes with dead ends, Starlight and moonshine And days in the sunshine, Christmas and parties And sweet apple tart is, When push comes to shove, Our children need love.
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Time Management
Posted on 11th Jul 2021
Time management
Stop rushing around!
You will end in the ground.
Simply accept you are late
And don't get in a state.
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Dementia
Posted on 2nd Jul 2021
Photo by Kindel Media on Pexels.com
This is our thousandth post since me and Dauphy kicked this blog off last August. We wanted to mark the occasion with something a bit different from our usual tongue in cheek attempts to get you giggling. Here then, is a serious poem about an awful condition that is affecting more and more of us as we live longer. Thank you for reading, and don’t worry, the next post will be back to our usual nonsense!
Dementia
My memories are jumbled,
a fluid kaleidoscope
of images
as tangled
as that spaghetti crap
they serve us in here.
Wherever here is!
I know it's not home.
Home is
where mum and dad live,
not here
where people wear pinnies
and masks
and ask silly questions.
'What have I had for breakfast?'
How the hell do I know!
Mum,
it's me mum,
Lucy!
Lucy,
who the hell is Lucy,
and who is mum?
I want my mum,
and my dad.
Let what's-her=name
find her own parents.
Bloody cheek.
And photos!
If anyone else
shows me any more photographs
of strangers,
I swear
I will smash the place up,
again.
Bloody morons!
Lucy?
Lucy darling?
Is that you?
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A good night’s sleep
Posted on 22nd Jun 2021
A good night's sleep
When you're in need of a kip,
Then imagine a skip,
And throw all your problems therein.
You will sleep trouble free
Until seven twenty-three,
And wake up as sharp as a pin.
Hobbo's Poems 