shirleybpoetry

[shirleybpoetry]

Fish Tales

You cast your rod and reeled me in. We went to a special plaice and perched on a rock by the sea in whales. You asked if I believed in cod. I said yes and knew we were solemates. You could sense I was koi but didn’t flounder, soon showing me your winkles. I showed you my crabs. It was in the days mullets were all the rage. You looked brill in your herring bone suit, kipper tie and salmon suede shoes. I felt your mussels. You could see I was terning red and likely to clam up, so you gave me a coddle and took me to the ‘Old Trout Inn’. They were all singing ‘Roll Out The Barracudas’. I like a tuna two, so I said, ‘Get me a large one and for goodness hake fillet to the top’. There was a man in the corner playing the bass. It was a bit meloncoley. The pub was full of hardy fishermen except one little shrimp who was in the corner whaling. ‘A loan shark too all me money’, he carped. I trawled the bar for his mates. One said, ‘He does it on porpoise every Saturday. Eel be alright if you give him six squid’. So we did. He was such a happy sole. He came right out of his shell. He said he was local yet he looked a tadpolish. ‘Oyster come here as a kid’, he said. We pondered if he was right in the head. Then the disco started playing The Subreams. We were packed in like sardines when the conga struck up. The line sea-snaked right around Barb the barmaid. She got crabby and was angling to hook someone out. She cast her eyes around and spotted the Crayfish brothers. ‘Oh, not those aholeholes,’ She didn’t like goby people so she ran the otter way. Then some silly sprat knocked you haddock hotpot off the table. You said, ‘pollocks’, let’s go while we’re able. FIN

[shirleybpoetry]

[shirleybpoetry]

Part 1

She pulled back the string on her Cupid’s bow. The arrow was set. She aimed it low. “Gotcha!”, she cried – eyes colder than ice. “Hi, I’m Meghan, The Actress, and you, are you NICE?

Did I say I love Africa? Do-gooding too. What a wonderful partnership, just me and you.” Harry looked stunned as he thought ‘She’s a looker!’ Much better by far than the typical hooker.

“But I’m ginger,” he wailed, whilst wringing his hands, “and I can’t measure up to an actress with fans.” “There, there,” Megsie cooed as she cupped his red cheeks which was odd as he hadn’t been slapped there for weeks.

“I love you for you. I’m your freedom – your saviour.” Harry quite liked this obliging behaviour. Submissive, yet strong, with her character toes and her fullness of lips and a hand-chiselled nose.

“Such a beauty,” he thought, “this will make Willy green.” The extensions were better than any he’d seen. “Oh, H, you’re so handsome,” said Meg with a glint, “I had no idea you were royal, a Prince!.”

“You’re so genuine, Megsie. It makes such a change to be courted by somebody out of my range.” “Come on, Harry”, she giggled, “let’s away to tell Queenie. Engagement, then wedding, then push out a weenie.”

“Hold fire”, said Harry, a little perplexed. “We haven’t had dinner yet, let alone sex.”

Part 2 Here

[shirleybpoetry]

Derek's Diary - The Funeral Went to a funeral shook some hands decent crowd sung a hymn nice and loud

read a poem ‘Ode to Dead’ stuttered badly face went red

did some mourning sung again clapped at speeches said Amen

filed out slowly touched the box laid a rose someone dropped

stood around meeting aunties thanked the father from St Francis

lovely service soul at peace no more pain happy release

went to wake ate some food stayed too late drinking booze

told some stories got them grinning anecdotes youthful sinning

smashing send off won’t forget him diamond geezer wish I’d met him

more of Derek here

[shirleybpoetry]

Part 1

She pulled back the string on her Cupid’s bow. The arrow was set. She aimed it low. “Gotcha!”, she cried – eyes colder than ice. “Hi, I’m Meghan, The Actress, and you, are you NICE?

Did I say I love Africa? Do-gooding too. What a wonderful partnership, just me and you.” Harry looked stunned as he thought ‘She’s a looker!’ Much better by far than the typical hooker.

“But I’m ginger,” he wailed, whilst wringing his hands, “and I can’t measure up to an actress with fans.” “There, there,” Megsie cooed as she cupped his red cheeks which was odd as he hadn’t been slapped there for weeks.

“I love you for you. I’m your freedom – your saviour.” Harry quite liked this obliging behaviour. Submissive, yet strong, with her character toes and her fullness of lips and a hand-chiselled nose.

“Such a beauty,” he thought, “this will make Willy green.” The extensions were better than any he’d seen. “Oh, H, you’re so handsome,” said Meg with a glint, “I had no idea you were royal, a Prince!.”

“You’re so genuine, Megsie. It makes such a change to be courted by somebody out of my range.” “Come on, Harry”, she giggled, “let’s away to tell Queenie. Engagement, then wedding, then push out a weenie.”

“Hold fire”, said Harry, a little perplexed. “We haven’t had dinner yet, let alone sex.”

Part 2 Here

#harry #prince harry #harry and meghan #duchess #duke and duchess of sussex

[shirleybpoetry]

Poetry can be fun, entertaining, therapeutic.

#poetry #poetsandwriters #writers and poets #poetryvideos #videopoetry #funnypoetry #humorouspoetry