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BODY PARTS POETRY COMPETITION - PAGE 1

This month's poetry competition theme is BODY PARTS. (Poetry written in a humorous way). This follows on from the very funny and successful humorous poetry performed by Pat and Sumi at the Watford Fringe; plus, the catalyst for those pieces - Mike Lansdown's "knees" piece!


Below and on PAGE 2, you can read our bumper crop of entries. 


It's congratulations to:

  • 1st place: Sumi Watters Rock Your Dad Bod
  • 2nd place: Liz Shaw For Ladies of a Certain Age
  • Joint 3rd place: Melville Lovatt Outside the Crematorium
  • Joing 3rd place: Helen Nicell Making a Boobie

ENTRY 1

A DAY IN THE CARE HOME by Melville Lovatt

Brother and sister faced up to the fact

Dad needed round the clock care.

Memory was going, couldn’t dress himself…

was chatting to people not there… 


The Care Home they viewed – seeming top drawer –

was in many ways, just the ticket.

Just beyond Its gardens, a sports ground lay.

In summer, Dad could watch cricket!


They convinced themselves Dad liked the idea.

When cricket was mentioned, he smiled.

Not always aware of where he was,

he seemed happy, just like a child.


‘We’d love to have him,’ the matron said.

‘Why not leave him here for a day? 

To see if he likes it? I’m sure he will.

A free trial with nothing to pay?’


On this crucial day, no effort was spared

to create a good impression. 

Dad was given a spacious, sunny room.

‘As a help against any depression.’


(Later on, he’d be moved to a tiny room

 where you couldn’t even swing a cat.

There’d be no more special chocolate cakes,

though they kept very quiet about that.)


Whilst sitting, he leaned sharply to his left

and was quickly pushed back in his chair.

When he leaned to his right, he was pushed

back again. This seemed to him, very unfair.


‘How was it, Dad?’ They asked the next day,

served with teas and Bakewell Tart.

‘It’s not too bad, but I can’t stay here.

They won’t even let you fart.’

 

ENTRY 2

CONFRONTATION WITH MOTHER by Ian Welland

Put that down, 

you’ll have somebody’s eye out!

Stand up straight

Stop slouching about


Think you’re on the stage,

Break a leg why don’t you

Exit left,

I’ll give you something to chew


So, you’re a comedian?

Ha! Your Funny bone

What’s that you say?

Don’t take that tone


Clowning around

And Knobbly knees 

Swinging like an ape

High up in the trees


You should be 

Kept at arm’s length

Taken in hand

Give me strength!


Don’t look at me

You deaf d’hear?

Was that a gesture?

How rude and insincere


Cat got your tongue?

You’re skating on thin ice

With your pigeon feet,

What a sight!


You best go home,

I’ll give you a thick ear

Any more of that cheek,

Don’t you cheer!


Get off with you,

I’ll let it pass,

You come back again

I’ll kick your backside!!!!! 


ENTRY 3

AN IDIOMATIC ESCAPE by Geoff Brown

I’m sticking my neck out with this rhyme, 

And giving myself a pat on the back, 

I kept my chin up all the time, 

My body was writhing on the rack.


After my sticky fingers stole the gold, 

I faced the music with aplomb,

It cost me an arm and a leg to withhold, 

My confession when they screwed my thumb.


“I’m all ears,” the torturer said,

But he saw my lips were sealed clam tight,

“Over my dead body you’ll have to tread,

Before my tongue will give up the fight.”


“It’s like pulling teeth with you,” he spat,

“I need more elbow room to make you sing,

I swear I’ll pick your brains you dirty rat,”

“Break a leg,” I croaked with intent to sting.


By the skin of my teeth I managed to live, 

Off the top of the head my plan was bold,

I filled my jailer’s ears with what I could give,

And stomached the loss of half my gold.


ENTRY 4

ALL ABOUT EYES by Lesley Kerr

 As a child we were told they would grow square from watching TV

A parental scare tactic that never came to be


Although I’d diligently eat all my carrots to see if I might 

be able to read under my blankets in secret, at night


When they are bloodshot and red, they are often a sign

Of days spent crying, or a night on the wine!


With age they may require frames to see clearer

While the vainer among us simply hold our books nearer


Teenagers are experts in making theirs roll

At one of dad’s jokes, something meant to be droll


Whether you’re a brown eyed girl or blue-eyed boy

Fluttering those lashes is always a good ploy


Eyes can twinkle and sparkle, or shoot daggers and glare

So those whose eyes wander had better beware


Lest the green-eyed monster rears her ugly head

She’ll scratch out your lying eyes and leave you for dead!


They can be filled with empathy

Or burn with intensity


They bring life and expression to a face as a whole 

Two gelatinous orbs that are windows to the soul.


ENTRY 5

CREAKY KNEES by Susan Bennett

Oh dear was that a sneeze

No, it’s just my creaky knees

What a terrible wheeze

No, its just my creaky knees


To think that once I could

Leap about in any wood

Climb rocks and trees

But now my creaky knees


Keep me close to home 

Not, as I used to, roam

Through pastures and trees

Oh, my old creaky knees


Running used to be such a breeze

But had to give it up, creaky knees

There is still pleasure to be found

Even though my knees are unsound


Oh please, it’s not a sneeze

It’s just my creaky knees


ENTRY 6

A MELODIOUS PEST by Sumi Watters

An EAR WORM wriggled into my brain 

Yesterday, at half past noon,

It wormed its way in, and there it remains

Crooning an unrecognisable tune. 


Over and over and over it plays

The same vexing notes on repeat,

Haunting me, taunting me, all night and day

No other thoughts can compete.


I’ve been trying all day long to sing it

I can hum a few random notes, 

The moment I think, ‘I know it!

The lyrics get lost in my throat. 


I’ve now lost all concentration

Thanks to my unwelcome guest,

I haven’t the sense for conversation

Oh! How I detest this melodious pest! 


But then … just like that, the song comes to me

It rolls off the tip of my tongue,

I recall with clarity, the sweet melody

A lullaby my mum often sung.


ENTRY 7

MAKING A BOOBIE by Helen Nicell

Would you like a double?

She winks from behind the bar

My eyes fix straight ahead

Two soft pillows, escape from her bra! 

The wife is waiting on her Dubonnet

Handbag upon her lap

Eyes boring into my bald patch

I’m likely to get a slap


This is an awkward situation 

I don’t know what to say 

The blousy barmaid’s cleavage 

Is getting in the way

Expertly she pours my pint

Then begins to slice some lemons

As clumsily I take the drinks

My mind is full of melons


I set our drinks upon the table

My wife lets out a sigh

‘Herbert you forgot the crisps’

I think I am going to die! 

Back I go, to the altar of doom

Where finally I splutter

‘Two crackets of pisps pppplease’

Now I have a lisp and a blinking stutter


This really isn’t fair, its sexual harassment

Aimed at poor unsuspecting chaps

A blonde and busty barmaid

Unleashing her milky baps

I return again to the wife

Who thinks she may know best

She feels that the time is right

To get something off her chest


Things are getting really bad

She is at the end of her wits

Apparently everything I say or do

Is getting on her… tits

It’s time for her to start anew

She wants to keep me abreast

She’s moving in with the barmaid

She thinks it’s for the best


ENTRY 8

SAM LEARNS A NEW STRATEGY by Chris McDermott

Sam was a young boy, good at sums,

Obsessed with bodies and large bums.

He’d reached that age, girls took his fancy,

And then one day he met with Nancy.


He spied this beauty strolling past,

And loved her look, despite her mask. 

‘Will you please come out on a date?

I’ll buy us drinks, now be my mate.’


Nancy, flattered to be asked,

Said ‘Yes, of course,’ behind her mask.

She wore this now ‘cos of the virus.

Despite this, Sam, he was desirous.


And so they met for tea and cake,

Sam was so keen, he could not wait.

His mask he took off in a jiff, 

To show to Nance his proboscis.


He made the move to impress Nancy,

Although he knew it was quite chancy,

To suddenly reveal his snout,

The first occasion they’d been out. 


But Sam had heard that all young women,

So you can get their hearts a-spinnin’,

You showed off your large, naked nose,

And so he sat there, in a pose.


‘What do you think?’ Sam asked young Nancy,

Hoping his nose would take her fancy. 

Was his great snout a thing of beauty,

To make her want to shake her booty?


But sadly Nance was not impressed,

And told him he’d not passed the test.

That all girls put before a boy,

To make their hearts just leap with joy.


‘It’s not your nose that I desire,

But gorgeous ears set me on fire.’

So then Sam made his long ears wiggle,

Which made that sweet, young Nancy giggle! 


That was the time Sam learned a fact,

Not noses, but the way we act,

Will charm the girls and win their hearts,

So he expelled some great, long farts! 


ENTRY 9

OUTSIDE THE CREMATORIUM by Melville Lovatt

After the crematorium service,

mourners mingled outside in the cold,

shared fond memories of the deceased,

ancient anecdotes…many re-told. 


Then I spotted Uncle Frank

who I hadn’t seen for many years.

‘How are you, Uncle Frank?’ I asked.

Now tales of woe assailed my ears.


‘To tell you the truth, I’m not too good.

Sharp pains shoot up my back.

My eyesight’s isn’t all it was…

I really feel I’m on the rack.


My legs are aching all the time.

Arthritis plagues me, night and day.

I can’t stop running to the loo.

My Athletes Foot won’t go away…


and now I’ve stomach trouble, too.

Having to watch everything I eat…

I can’t say I enjoy my food...

I’m on a diet of Shredded Wheat...’


Now, Uncle Frank’s wife, Henrietta,

said---having listened, standing near---

‘In view of all these ailments, Frank,

 I think we’d better leave you here.’ 

 

ENTRY 10

MARY, MARY... by Mike Lansdown

After taking her tea, just after three, she stood on the steps of The Gallery.

And with her sleeve, she cleaned her glasses: Mary - this most innocent of lasses.

She said: “It’s time for me to embrace the arts, to understand the affairs of heart!”

And after a momentary pause,

For breath, slhe passed through its doors…

…and there she stands, in silent awe, amid the treasures that fill the floor

and walls, and ceilings, and every nook, wherever her bespectacled eyes might look.


“Oh! How the artist paints the hand!

Perspective – Light - they understand!

And, oh! The subtle tilt of nose!

The arch of foot, the tip of toes!”

In rapture, she floats from room to room, a Brave New World to this girl for whom 

Each picture brings some fresh delight – like the morning sun to end the night.

Bet then…

“Oh my! Oh dear! My giddy aunt!”

She dabs her brow and starts to pant

Fighting to control her breathing

Pulses racing, her breast a-heaving

For now she’s entered The Marble Room

Where all around her statues loom

Each one without a stitch of clothing

Her timorous state turned now to loathing:

“What foul prurience in a public place!

That I, sweet Mary, should come face to face

With a young man’s bits and nearly bump

Into his creamy marble rump!

And look! That girl! Bold as brass!

Showing off her comely…bottom

And that’s not all!” she starts to swoon

And rushes quickly from the room

Down the corridors, down the stair

Revived at last by the outside air.


Now, tears in her eyes, her jaw outthrust 

She whispers darkly, “I will, I must

Put to the sword this filth, this lust

And to this end, In God I Trust!”


Cool and calm, determined, scary

Her rallying cry will never vary

Writers and artists, be forever wary

Of Campaigner, Whitehouse, Mrs… Mary. 

ENTRY 11

RIDICULOUS RHYMES by Jan Rees

There was a young man from Praa Sands

With musical, magical hands

He played Gershwin and Liszt

Especially when – “drunk”

That amazing young man from Praa Sands 


There once was a man from Quebec

Who was always a pain in the neck

He upset his wife

His “trouble and strife”

So she laid him right out on the deck


There was a young man from Caerphilly

Who had a remarkable Willy

Which ruined his breeches

And had him in stitches

His lovable naughty dog Willy

  

ENTRY 12

IT WAS THE BREAST OF TIMES by Louise Welland

I’m going to Asda, feelings mixed

Got melons on my shopping list

I do not buy my groceries there

I’m going there to bare my pears


I've had that request that women dread

(That makes you want to stay in bed)

To take off your bra and let ‘em sway

Embarrassing, stressful, breast x ray


I pull myself up metal steps

Filling with alarming dread

The ‘nursey’ with the scowling face

Entraps you in that hostile place


The woman before me starts to yell

“For God’s sake stop it, this is hell

My Babylon’s are squashed, totally flat”

‘Stop making a fuss’ the nurse snapped back


Now it’s my turn, coat in locker

Face bright red, unleash my knockers

‘Remove all clothing, YES even your bra

Don't feel embarrassed, we've seen them before’ 


But normally I have a tipple

Before showing anyone my nipples

When my bra’s removed there’ll be a guffaw

As my bazookas hit the floor


I’m not quite sure if I am able

To slap my bosoms on that table 

‘Step to the left. Move to the right

Lay it on here. Now hold your breath tight’


‘Move over slightly’, ouch..that’s a pain,

doing the time warp again’


***


(Mamogram - a stupid name, why not mamo pound?

or by the way my boobs have grown

                                  could even be a mamo STONE)


I suppose the benefits outweigh the pain

So I'll try to think positive and won't complain


In future if I show my titties

I’m going to another city

Or just stay home, keep in the dark

NOT a public Asda shop car park


ENTRY 13

CHANGING FACES by Mike Lansdown

It started with a straightening 

And whitening of his teeth

His newly found ability

To smile, a great belief.

“But why stop at my gnashers?”

He asked himself one day.

“I’ve got the cash to carry on

And go the whole damn way!”

So, next it was his tummy

Tucked and hard as steel

Stripped of hair, smooth and bare

From the upper-body peel.

“But my pecs,” he groaned “now look so small

They’re hardly visible at all!”

So, he promptly joined the gym

Who said they’d make a man of him

But chests, of course, don’t come cheap

And he’d need to promise that he would keep

However hard that it might seem

To the new, scientifically approved, regime.

He did, and his chest now split his shirt

And when he raised his arms, it hurt.

But onwards and upwards was his cry

To zap the bags beneath his eyes!

Three hours under the surgeon’s knife

Would surely guarantee a wife

Or girlfriend at the very least

For who could resist this sexy beast?

But things, alas, didn’t go to plan

As not all swoon at an action man:

Swiping left she said, ‘I’m sorry honey,

But you really should have saved your money,

‘Cos for a fool you have been took,

As we girls prefer…the natural look!


ENTRY 14

ROCK YOUR DAD BOD by Sumi Watters

You’ve achieved the quintessential Dad Bod

Hard work has delivered success,

You’ve attained a physique, neither ripped or too sleek

Your beer-belly sure does impress. 

I’ve known all along you could do it

Your methods sure went to plan, 

The twice-yearly swim, once a month at the gym

After all, you’re a family man. 


You’re proud of your remarkable Dad Bod

A triumph for which I can vouch,

You’d be too thin, if you’d brought in the bins

Or moved from your spot on the couch. 

Imagine how toned you would be

If you’d cut the grass once every week, 

The thought makes me shudder, for your pudge makes me flutter

I love my men fleshy and weak. 


You parade your half-naked Dad Bod

I don’t deserve such a prize, 

The hair on your back, the hint of your crack 

Are truly a feast for my eyes. 

Trousers are so overrated 

So are ties and pressed tailored suits,

Why bother to hide; wear your boxers with pride

They display your fine attributes. 


Keep rocking that wonderful Dad Bod

Don’t waste your time getting fit,

You’re not perfect by far, but I love all that you are 

Your wisdom, your humour, and wit.


ENTRY 15

ADVERTISEMENT by Andrea Neidle

For sale

One body, old but in good condition

No replacement parts

One heart barely ever broken and beating strong

One brain well used but still intact

Two eyes known to be in the back of my head

Two ears still hearing well but not always listening

Two arms ready to hold and embrace

Two legs that can still run up the stairs

Two feet still able to dance the night away 

Two hands capable of most things but not DIY

One head filled with ideas, lines of poetry, stories and countless memories

These exclusive body parts are still available but not for long

Make an offer before this body parts with them


ENTRY 16

TAKE MY ADVICE by John Ward

Now that I have reached an age

When I need my body parts to engage

I find they fail me one by one

My heart, my legs, my liver, my bum

All fight for attention, one by one

What will top the list today

To make the pain of yesterday

Fade away?

Battered limbs and broken bones

Take time to heal

While you stay at home

But internal organs need more care

And the hospital will keep you there

So, remember, every person dies

From lack of breath

That’s what will get you in the end

And that is why

Just keep on breathing come what may

So you can live another day


ENTRY 17

FOR LADIES OF A CERTAIN AGE by Liz Shaw

A rallying cry for a noble cause

We’re waging war on the menopause!


It’s not immortality we seek to gain

We’re fighting the signs of oestrogen’s wane -

When the hair on our heads lies limp and thin

(unlike the hairs on our chinny-chin-chins)

When our bodies decide to turn up the heating

And we worry at night about weak bladders leaking

When bosoms and bottoms look towards feet

And middles expand whatever we eat


Men, don’t roll your eyes when we fret and moan 

The same fate awaits your testosterone

So, join us in our travails at the gym

As we pluck, tone, moisturise, and tuck everything in

We might win the battle if not the war

And if nothing else, we’ll have strong pelvic floors


So, a rallying cry for a cause we won’t win

But never mind Ladies, that’s why God gave us gin!


ENTRY 18

DELHI BELLY by David Elliott

If a korma or a jalfrezi just won’t do

And a phall isn’t warm enough for you

Then try Newcastle’s hottest - a magmaloo

It will proper melt your fillings into goo

And in the next morning - when your sat on the loo

Was it the bucket of beer you drank or that magmaloo

Now passing the eye of a needle – the squirtiest poo

Oh why, oh why, didn’t you settle for a vindaloo

Double flush - that smelliest number-two

How you so deserve that macho ring of fire hoodoo

That even bog roll straight from the fridge can’t cut through

Savlon, wet wipes, a cold compress - still don’t ease it on cue

That Ralgex burn in your private place. Try Imodium - take two

Delhi belly, hot to trot, squeeze your head and rue

Because it was totally down to you, there’s no-one else to sue

You had to be the man - and trough that magmaloo


All hail to the Carrot


ENTRY 19

PULLING TEETH by Louise Welland

If I was asked what I would be, from the very youngest child

I’d say I want to be a nurse, with the widest, proudest smile

While all my friends were skipping, or playing catch with balls

You’d find me playing doctors, and bandaging my dolls


I studied hard and trained full time, at university

Then full of pride I laughed and cried, winning my first degree

I somehow wasn’t nervous, my first day on the job

I watched and listened carefully, I took bloods and some swabs


The matron seemed quite happy ‘This day just really flew

You really have done very well, just two last tasks to do’

‘On this geriatric ward, we switch on the night lights

Then take everyone’s dentures out, to soak them overnight’
 

I called to all the patients ‘Come on Ladies, time for sleep, 

and while you snore and dream away, I will clean your teeth’

In the morning you’ll be asking, where the yellow went

And I’ll say ‘That’s the beauty of using Steradent’


I found a big container made of shiny sparkling tin

I topped it up with water and popped bleaching tablets in

Then each of those dear ladies spat their teeth into the tub

Then settled down into their beds, safe, secure and snug


I went hope tired but happy, so proud of my first day

I learned a lot, made no mistakes; I’d really earnt my pay

At 6am next morning, I turned up for my day two

Another nurse called sternly, ‘Sister wants a word with you’


I gently tapped her office door, she looked at me, amused

she plonked the box of teeth down hard, said sternly “Who’s are who’s?”

It took my several hours, embarrassed I admit

Shoving teeth in ladies’ mouths to find the set that fit


Sometimes working slow but safe is better then, and smarter

So think my friends, before you act, prevent some daft disaster



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