Honey

A wasp and a bee shared a spot in the sun.
The wasp had a question to ask.
“Oh bee, I’ve a question, it’s short and it’s fun,
Would you answer it here while we bask?”

“I know you make honey. Of that I am sure.
It’s simply what honeybees do.
So here is my question. Do bees all adore
Their honey in sandwiches too?”

“Our babies eat honey,” the bee then replied.
“It’s what all our larvae are fed.”
“But as to our sandwiches and what’s inside—
We adults like nectar instead!”

honey-311047 - Copy

Image from Pixabay © CC0 Creative Commons 2014

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!

One Star

I went on a lovely vacation
But found it a troublesome chore.
I wanted a sunny location
And scenery I could adore.

I booked at a quaint little lodging
Securing a room and a bed,
But found myself needlessly dodging
The owner’s harassment instead.

Of course, he was lovely at check-in:
He passed me my keys with a smile.
“Please make this your home,” he had beckoned;
“We hope you will stay for a while.”

Despite the man’s warm salutation
And offer to let down my guard,
Enjoying the accommodation
Became very taxing and hard.

Now when I am home I will daily
Spend time strolling ‘round in the nude.
But though I’d been welcomed so gaily,
I then got called vulgar and rude!

And though when I’m home I let dishes
Pile up and then cultivate mold,
This countered the owner man’s wishes—
Or so I was boorishly told.

So though I had high expectations
And though I had come from afar
For these modest accommodations
I leave just one desolate star.

bad-review-2813741 - Copy

Image from Pixabay © CC0 Creative Commons 2017

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!

Banana

I’m feeling inconsolable
I’m feeling all alone—
I’m feeling pain and sadness worse
than I have ever known—

For my whole life I’ve been beside
My lovely family.
All long and slim and yellow. Yes,
We lived in harmony.

And then, one sunny afternoon,
They plucked us from our height!
But we were still together and
So we were still alright.

And then they boxed and freighted us
And put us in a store!
But still we were together so
We’d be alright for sure.

And then a lady bagged us up
And put us in her car!
But I still felt okay because
My parents were not far.

And then the old hag took my Dad
She ripped him from the bunch…
And I can hardly bear to say…
She ate my Dad for lunch.

bananas-575773_1280 - Copy

Image from Pixabay © CC0 Creative Commons 2014

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!

Snort

There once was a woman who’d snort
Every time she gave voice to a thought.
Explosive and loud
She could startle a crowd
It sounded like wars being fought.

She seemed to be quite unaware
As her snorts echoed out through the air.
A doc had a peek
In the side of her cheek
“It’s ‘cos you’ve three nostrils! One’s spare.”

Three Nostrils

Image from Deposit Photos © Helen_Adamova 2014

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!

Grandmother’s Stew

My darling old grandmother’s stew
Is neither delicious nor new.
It’s leftover stuff
Soggy veggies, meat tough
A horrible simmering brew.

She says that it’s healthy and fine,
It strengthens your guts and your spine.
And each day or two
She adds to the stew
It’s existed since ’79!

soup-576424 - Copy

Image from Pixabay © CC0 Creative Commons 2015

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!

Finish This Poem – “Lunch”

I sit with all my colleagues
Each afternoon at one.
We show what’s in our lunchbox
It’s quite a lot of fun.
A weekly social catch-up
It always lifts my mood;
The problem is, they always point
And snicker at my food.

See, Rachel, she brings bento
And Mark brings peas and rice.
And Lewis? He brings tacos
All loaded up with spice.
I don’t know why they laugh at ME,
The food I bring is great:

(Can you finish this poem? 😀)

Lunchboxes with dinner on white wooden background

Image from Deposit Photos © belchonock 2017

instagram-icon-square.png   Goodreads Icon_Purple   Amazon Icon   Facebook Icon   Twitter Icon  
For exclusive updates and a free book of poems, join the mailing list!