Second December Blog. 3-12-14
I have only had poems with women in mind, in a fun way, from only one author, I will now post those poems here. Maybe one or two of my own, in a comedic vein. So here are some poems from an Australian lady called Lucy Forster whom I recently connected with.
Here is a lady with a sense of humour in her work. She is from Australia.
Thank you Lucy.
Lucy Forster poems November 2014
These are poems are written by Lucy Forster. Well done Lucy.
“”Happy reading and Writing””
“Cheers ~~~ Lucy Forster”
Ah the change
Hot flushes, sleepless nights
She’s gone all strange
Plastic patches on your arse
Inner body explosions, what a farce
Someone stole my brain last night, it’s true
Why is this subject So taboo
My skin’s all itchy, my parts are dry
I feel quite fractured and I don’t know why
I yell and scream…no I’m not a shrew!
Perhaps I’ll dye my hair bright blue
Dr B give me something quick
I’m homicidal, suicidal
My sexy’s gone, is this a trick
Take these, you’ll soon feel better
Green pills, blue pills
You blow up like a balloon
He say’s it’ll settle down
I says, it better…soon
We often have a debate in our house, as to what a comfy undie is
I prefer the large ones that cover all of it, whatever size it is
Daughters prefer bikini ones that leave half your bum exposed
But give me the cotton-tails that have everything enclosed
And why do we wear them till there’s hardly anything left
Certainly if we got rid of some we wouldn’t be bereft
But who’d want second hand undies, I suppose someone out there would
Daughter’s boyfriend needs a polishing rag to polish up the hood
I throw him a pair of old undies that go sailing through the air
They open up like a spinnaker as we stand around and stare
They’re not mine our daughter shouts at him all panicky and stunned
As he catches undies single handed like a footballer on the run
She was hoping to beat him to it and hide them somewhere…drat
The car is now in brilliant shine, my cotton-tails did that.
“BTW – Cotton tails are a brand of undies here in Australia.”
SMOKING…GIVING IT UP
I’m giving up the weed…no not that one you silly goose
The one with the Camels, not the stuff you buy loose
I’m giving up the cigarettes, it’s not doing me any good
I had my last one today, feeling dizzy where I stood
No more after dinner puffs, shivering outside the door
So I won’t blow my smoke on loved ones and more
No more smelly hair and clothes, wafting smoke up people’s nose
I’ll get really fat instead, eating chocolate bars in bed
With my nerves all shot to pieces, friends have left me in the lurch
I’ll take my crabby self along, and join a weird religious church
Ah what the fuck, maybe just one more
. . .
My clutter’s having sex while I’m not looking
Fornicating in dark corners of my room
Multiplying and spilling off the table
I’ll have to put a stop to it real soon.
Some fun reads there Lucy.
Here is one of mine:-
Ode to Practicality.
I like to ride my bycicle,
The wind beneath my sail.
My skirts, I mean, they flap about,
Not so easy riding out
With arms and skirts that flail.
There is a brand new fashion,
Where ladies dress in pants,
It’s frowned on by the gentlemen
And upper class, like a wherry hen,
In newspapers, such rants.
For this is nineteen hundred,
A lady isn’t nice,
If she is seen out riding well,
New-fangled clothing, you can tell
She’s skating on thin ice.
But fashions change as years go by,
To nineteen forty three,
When wartime sees that skirts are high,
Cannot get material, or dye,
So short, they have to be.
Copyright. Evelyn. J. Steward. December, 2014.
And another :-
I’m changing out my lippy,
To something on the trend,
I may be slightly hippy,
But I’m working on a blend.
My eyebrows were so bushy,
Like grandpa John’s mustache,
I plucked away, so cushy,
Now I’ve gone and done it harsh.
Just a pencil line now,
So balance it with care,
My cheeks are rosy, somehow,
Right up into my hair.
My lips are purple blossoms,
Eye shadow, a bright green.
They stick out, like my bossoms,
Would amaze, on Pearl & Dean.
New eyelash fashion, tinting
Is all the rage today,
See me, you’ll be fainting,
In my orange, red and grey.
Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. December, 2014.
And another, off the cuff.
In high heels, I’m beguiling,
In pumps, well not so hot,
Nor flatties. They’re returning,
Like a fancy pepper pot.
Australia has the record
For warm and cosy boots.
All fashioned out of sheepskin,
To hug your frozen foots.
No ballerina dancers
Would wear such solid gear,
But there are lots of others
Who will prance throughout the year.
Then the famous trainers
To go clod-hopping in style,
A jaunt out in the countyside,
In those, it’s many a mile.
But fashion is the leader,
Whatever you may think,
Us women torture dainty toes,
Without a second blink!
Copyright Evelyn J. Steward. December, 2014
OK, that is enough for now. Nothing very illuminating on this post. Just something slightly different.
Take care, lovely people.