Category: Silly

There was a fellow (me) with intent:

On a countdown before the event:

He wanted to begin,

A tool to count in:

“A calendar for Advent’s advent.”

A Yorkshireman’s comfort is clear:

A roast pudding that they hold dear.

With gravy it’s crowned,

On Sundays renowned,

Without, a roast dinner is austere.

The pile of mugs grows bigger,

A monument to my vigour.

I drank through the night,

For deadlines in sight!

Now I am awake and I quiver.

I cannot knot this knot;

It tightens itself when it ought not.

I follow the guide,

But strands slip aside:

My efforts all come to naught!

I lie awake in the night,

Listening, through the lack of light.

For a mouse in my attic,

Whose movements are erratic,

so small, has me all affright.

Verily, I like an acrostic!

Even when writing a limerick

Rritten just so…

Seems my spelling’s a no-go

Especially when I write them quick.

I was pedalling home through the rain,

My legs and my patience in pain.

A car gave a splash,

My hopes turned to ash:

Next time I’ll just take the train!

I stepped in a puddle, then froze,

As water seeped in through my toes.

My socks held a pool,

I felt such a fool,

Because now I squelch where I goes.

While roses have called it a year,

My strawberry’s full of good cheer.

Its fruit, bright and red,

Defying winter’s tread,

A rebel that laughs at the drear.

I opened a box with delight,

Though Christmas was nowhere in sight.

It’s only November,

But I can’t remember

a rule that says waiting is right.