Marillion
Are brillion
But I much
Prefurs
Olly Murs.
Month: November 2013
Michael Bublé Poem
Michael Bublé
Eating soufflé,
Getting chocolate
On his duvet.
Naughty Michael.
Piers Morgan Poem
Naughty Piers Morgan
Got himself a caution
For sneaking into Church
And playing with his organ.
Ode to an Oodle
I ate a poet noodle,
You, an apple strudel.
It made us get all rudle.
We wrestled in the nudle,
And then did
The whole
Caboodle.
Poem Which Has Very Little Value Other Than That Some Of The Words Rhyme
I entered
Into combat
With a wombat,
Who’d called
My mum fat.
A Poem With No ‘M’
A poem
With no ‘m’
Is just called a poe,
Don’t you knoe.
Impressionable Youth
I spent the whole day
Pretending to be from Leatherhead.
But try as I might
I couldn’t get the accent right.
And later as I lay
In my all-weather featherbed,
Purpose built with duckdown quilt,
I reflected
I should have selected
Hemel Hempstead instead.
Mis-reading
Dear author,
Thought I oughta
Write to say how
I loved your novella
About the fella
Trapped in the cellar
With no chance
To advance
Out of his
Predicament.
No-one near
To hear
Or offer
A medicament.
Dear reader,
I just need yer
To lead the
Authorities here.
It was not a novella
About a fella
Trapped in a cellar.
Think of it more
As a short biography.
See the way
The typography
Is written in blood,
Which is usually
Not a good
Sign.
Womble Poem
I disguised myself
As a womble
And joined
A string ensemble.
But they found
I was a fellow
Before I’d even
Unpacked my cello.
Ode to Justin Bieber
I saw your face
Now I’m a Belieber,
A creature a bit
Like an amoeba,
But (as I’m learning)
With taste
Not as discerning.
