National Relaxation Day

Happy Mother’s Day

Mother, Mum, Mama, mummy, you there,

The person that encouraged you not to swear.

The one who made you your absolute best,

And who also comments if you’ve got a stain on your vest.

So often overlooked but always there,

For a cuddle or a reprimanding stare.

Not just a mother but a human being,

Who made do whilst you were screaming and weeing,

Who talced your doughey skin to stop the nappy chafe,

And sacrificed so much to keep you safe.

Mum you annoy me like no other,

But you really are the most nuanced, strong and wonderful mother!

Chips 🍟

A Comedy bake

I love the Great British Bake off,

It’s like comedy and baking have had a cake off,

The puns are delicious,

The goods are rarely nutritious,

And while Hollywood isn’t as glittery as he sounds,

His dramatic pauses in between nouns –

Are spectacularly glamorous,

And while I’m not polyamorous,

I am in a relationship with both comedy and baking,

But rather than comedy it’s baking that has me quaking,

I can’t even manage a good stew,

And I did a comedy gig for some bakers who –

Really can be absolute devils,

Because instead of shouting out they just threw Eccles.

Breast stroke

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Pause – like on iplayer not on a cat.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Soft strokes – it’s not like wiping your feet on a doormat.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Don’t you hope I’m talking about swimming.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

And FYI men have breasts as well as women.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Chickens have breasts too and legs which some people prefer to eat.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

“Are you a tits or a legs man?” could actually refer to meat.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Don’t worry it is definitely a water based stroking.

Breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke, breast stroke,

Well, if it was self love I’d be a bit too busy to write a poem gloating.

Hangover

Wrote this one at the Edinburgh Fringe!

Why is a hangover called a hang over?

Its not like hanging your chin over a tub of clover,

I mean, what is the bit that is meant to be hanging?

When I am hungover I hate any banging,

So perhaps what is hanging is your head?

Hanging over a bucket at the side of your bed?

Or is it the shame hanging over you from the night before,

Remembering that you did karaoke and had an argument with the floor.

Maybe it’s more like a sleepover that never ends,

You have a night in with a load of friends,

And there’s always that one who stays for too long the next day,

No matter your hints they won’t go away.

So perhaps a hangover is that lingering friend,

When you’d rather be alone and try and mend –

The damage done to your brain cells the previous night,

And the obligatory post on Facebook so others understand your plight.

My favourite bit of the word is that bit at the end,

Over is so final, a way to finish with a boyfriend,

A lover would understand that over means no more,

So why isn’t your hang showing itself out of the door?

What I’m saying is, it feels like this pain will never cease,

I’m hungover, yes I’m hanging and I just need some peace!

World Emoji Day

Guest poem: Mnemonic for the Wives of Immortal-Henry VIII

By John-Luke Roberts 

Divorced, Beheaded, Died,

Divorced, Beheaded, Died,

Divorced, Beheaded, Died,

Divorced, Beheaded, Died,

Died, Died, Died,

Divorced, Two-headed, Drowned,

Defenestrated, Combusted, Dissolved,

Divorced, Ignored, Lost,

Died, Died, Died,

Died, Died, Died,

Died, Died, Died, 

Died, Died, Died,

Died, Died, Died, 

Divorced, Divorced, Sad,

Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced, Elizabeth Taylor,

Divorced, Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced,

Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced, Elizabeth Taylor,

Divorced, Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced, 

Divorced, Divorced, Separated,

Separated, Divorced, A Man (!),

Industrial Accident, Motoring Accident, Flu,

Food Poisoning, Twisted Ankle, Mauled to Death by Reanimated Dinosaur,

Swallowed by Quicksand, Ebola, Shot,

Chopped into Little Tiny Pieces, Eaten by Her Cat, Run Over by a Lorry,

Abandoned on the Moon, Gifted to Alien Race, Ripped Apart by Black Hole,

Divorced, Divorced, Divorced,

Divorced, A Robot, Divorced,

Died, Died, Died,

Died, Died, Died,

Died, Dyed (to Death), Died,

Died, Died, Died, 

Clone Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced, Clone Elizabeth Taylor,

Divorced, Clone Elizabeth Taylor, Divorced,

Died, Died, Died,

Clone Henry VIII.
Check John-Luke Roberts out on tumblr here!

Fruity Art

Is a piece of fruit a work of art?

I’m sure heavenly believers have knowledge to impart,

But I’m talking art in a gallery,

Framed and catalogued for all to see,

Two Scottish students put this to the test,

You know for fun, a bit of a jest,

King of the fruits: pineapples are clearly the best, 

They even have a crown, a sort of leaf nest,

They are a bit scaley like everyone’s favourite mermaid,

And they are the only fruit which gets laid –

On pizza to give you a Hawaiian feel,

Which as a concept is quite surreal,

The students popped their own pineapple on a plinth that was spare,

The fun students have in an art gallery eh – what a pair,

To their amusement a few days later on the their return the pineapple remained,

This time surrounded by a glass box, beayutifully framed,

Staff had mistaken it for a bonified piece of art,

It is quite funny – bet they felt smart,

And I’m sure their parents very are proud,

A contribution to art to shout aloud,

If you think about it the day they did seize,

Although I’m not sure if that merits £9,000 in university fees. 

Dress Mania

Dear the world and people who read,

I am a woman in desperate need,

I have a dress that I absolutely love,

But the price tag is way above,

What you should spend on a bit of material,

Even though this dress is practically etherial,

It’s giving me pangs and fashion woe,

Maybe I can buy it and wear it in my show,

Then I could claim it back against tax,

Like my haircuts, tampons (otherwise I’d bleed on stage) and all those immacs,

If only my social calendar was full to the brim,

Then I could just buy it on a whim,

I could just get it as a treat to myself,

And but it in a box and keep it on a shelf,

And protect all those layers and stitching,

Yes that or I’ll just dance around in it my kitchen,

Do you know an event that I could come along to?

Then I’ll have an excuse and will forever love you,

Maybe I will just do it I’ll click buy,

Oh gosh what a feeling – it’s like I am fashion high,

I’ll just check if there are any discount vouchers online,

Oh no I’ve seen another dress! Oh this is the one! Really I’m serious this time …