Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
I love you to bits…
Posted on 18th Feb 2021
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.
Share this:
Love is…
Posted on 16th Feb 2021
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.
Share this:
The eye of the beholder
Posted on 16th Feb 2021
The eye of the beholder
A man with a shiny red tractor
Got wed to an out of work actor
Bereft of a stage
She was left with no wage
And the size of his wheels was a factor.
Share this:
A Yorksher Love Sonnet
Posted on 14th Feb 2021
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.
Dauphy: Has Mrs Hobbo seen this?
Hobbo: Not yet. Why?
Dauphy: She won’t be happy!
Hobbo: Why not? There’s no mention of pies this time.
Dauphy: Don’t expect any lunch today, that’s all…
Share this:
L * O * V * E
Posted on 14th Feb 2021
L * O * V * E
Love is the only
four letter word that my gran
allows in her house.
Share this:
Love on trial
Posted on 13th Feb 2021
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.
Share this:
The Power of Thinking
Posted on 8th Feb 2021
The Power of Thinking If the totality of our thoughts is hatred we will perish. If the product of our ponderings is love we shall triumph.
Share this:
A Yorksher love poem
Posted on 31st Jan 2021
Hobbo: The French are a romantic bunch aren’t they Dauphy?
Dauphy: We are, why?
Hobbo: I thought that I’d move away from funny poems and try my hand at something a bit more romantic.
Dauphy: Mon Dieu!
Hobbo: So, I’ve written a love poem.
Dauphy: This has trouble written all over it! Let’s have a look then…
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
Dauphy: The mush in mushy peas!
Hobbo: I know, it’s good isn’t it?
Dauphy: Has Mrs Hobbo seen this?
Hobbo: No. Not yet.
Dauphy: Well, don’t show her it, or you’re dead!
Hobbo: Why? I thought she’d like it.
Dauphy: Where do I start?…
Share this:
The art of balance
Posted on 31st Jan 2021
The art of balance Can you canoodle carefully, in a canoe? Can you? Cannily?
Share this:
A story as old as time
Posted on 28th Jan 2021
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. Chose a vicar, humoristic Picked a service catechistic. Thus my friends, in rhyme linguistic Old, old story, humanistic.
