New Year’s Resolution


New years resolution

It’s certainly been a busy year,
Let me tell you.
It seems there’s been no end,
To all the people I’ve spoken to.
I’ve philosophised with wise men,
I’ve lectured fools.
I’ve taught teachers,
I’ve debated with schools.
I’ve supported the depressed,
I’ve argued with drunks.
I’ve questioned the sober,
I’ve disagreed with monks.
I’ve praised the famous,
I’ve begged a billionaire.
I’ve criticised the ugly,
I’ve chatted up the fair.
I’ve railed at the angry,
I’ve bet with gamers.
I’ve moaned at the critical
I’ve shouted at my neighbours.
And yet after all this
I still feel something’s missing.
Perhaps next year,
I just ought to listen.

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The Christmas Radio Times


2015 christmas radio times

Your Christmas telly viewing cannot be planned,
If you do not have to hand.
That festive TV listing magazine most sublime,
The almighty Christmas Radio Times.

As soon as this marvelous seasonal tome,
Lands on the doormat of your home.
Any Christmas jobs are left for later,
As you scramble quickly for pen and paper.

Then you sit reverently with the Radio Times,
While from cover to cover its contents you scrutinise.
Ever keen to get your seasonal TV schedule ready,
So you can program it all into your telly.

Later when you have given the Radio Times its last look,
Then like a treasured religious book.
You place it with pride beside your TV,
Displayed majestically for all to see.

Sadly because of my love for the Christmas Radio Times,
Advertising watchdogs don’t like this poem’s lines.
Their lawyers have told me it would be advisable,
If I reminded you other festive listing magazines are available.

 

Merry Christmas to all and thanks to supporting the site in 2015, I’ll be back with more in 2016. Don’t forget I will still be doing poetry on Instagram over Christmas and into the New Year, click the sidebar or here to take a look.

Looks Like Reindeer


reindeer on a roof

It was a peaceful Christmas night,
I was nibbling a mince pie.
When suddenly my blood turned cold,
As I heard a crashing noise from the sky.
“They’re bloody here again wife, ” I yell,
“It’s a repeat of last year.
Those reindeer are wrecking my roof again,
Load my shotgun please dear.”
Yes those reindeer are on top of my house,
Smashing my guttering and tiles up.
I’m going to give them a special greeting,
With ten rounds of buckshot.
As I climb up I see Rudolph,
With his ruddy nose so bright.
Well he’ll wish he’d switched it off,
As it makes a great target tonight.
Why are the reindeer here anyway?
Making a racket while loitering around.
Just so a fat man can jump down my chimney,
Bringing soot and dirt into my lounge.
And when this obese oaf appears,
He forgets to drop off my presents.
As he’s too busy scoffing my mince pies,
And necking all my sherry.
Well tonight Santa and your reindeer,
I’ll get my revenge for my roof bills.
I’m aiming my shotgun at you,
And I’m looking for a kill.
They can hear me coming it seems,
But they’ve left it too late to get away.
“Put the turkey back in the freezer,” I shout,
“It’s roasted reindeer for Christmas Day.”

 

Cat vs. Christmas Tree


Cat vs Christmas tree

I flick my tail at your Christmas Decorations,
I raise my hackles at your novelty Santa hat.
I curl my lip at your Christmas cards,
There’s only one thing that interests this cat.

And that is in my role as feline predator,
I’m going to stealthily stalk your Christmas tree.
My mission is simply to kill it you know,
Oh the joy it’s going to bring me.

I raise a paw and unsheathe my claws,
As I prepare the killing blow.
Then I strike as quick as lightning,
And down the Christmas tree goes.

Oh bugger I’m trapped beneath it now,
With a tree light illuminating my arse.
I hiss, spit and caterwaul,
But my plight gets worse because.

In runs my owner, all red in the face,
“You wretched animal, “ he shouts out loud.
Trying his best to find me,
As under the tree’s remains I cower.

“I’ll skin you cat you tree wrecker you,”
My owner says as he brandishes a knife.
He’s over reacting a little I think,
I’m sure he won’t take one of my nine lives.

As my owner lifts what’s left of the tree,
I spot an open door and leg it outside.
Leaving him to tidy up the mess,
With lots of swearing and sighs.

Later I peer through the lounge window,
Looking like butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth.
I’ll be back for that tree tomorrow,
And the turkey better look out as well.