Lil’s lost over two hundred and eighty pounds
Of ugly, useless and unwanted fat
Her best friend said “Lil you should be proud
You’ve finally divorced the bone idle pratt”
Some folk may find this poem funny
I guess humor is pretty subjective
But if it raises a chuckle or smile
I’ve achieved my goal and objective!
I've got one less relative than Snow White
alas, none of my six relations are a delight
Let me tell you about my cousin Regina
After childbirth, she's got a slack v'gina
She’s had a set of twins in May this year
Hubby’s impotence is her greatest fear
Her hypochondriac hubby, his name is Bill
says that he cannot work, claims he's too ill
But he’s fit as a flea, and I know he's faking…
he’s unable to work, but up for baby making!
Next up is where their trouble begins
with Boris and Donald their terrible twins
They both rule the roost with a rod of iron
Regina can’t cope as they’re always cryin’
My brother Steve now calls himself Fred
He’s a total fruitcake who claims he’s dead
I treat all our conversations with derision
as out of the grave he’s frequently risen!
My bone idle sister she’s called Laura-Annie
folk can’t take their eyes off her huge fanny
she parades round in tight leopard skin pants
and the ground vibrates if she starts to dance
Six Relatives Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Crutsinger
10/31/20
bone idle 'hippo'
wallowing in self pity
least your mud bath’s free!
In the context of THIS poem personification could also be used as the form.
05~17~17
The Moaner.
Too many cooks in the kitchen they're bound to spoil the broth.
Too much soap in the bath tub it's over-run with froth.
Not enough coal on the fire it needs stoking to keep you from the cold.
Why is it you don't listen, why not do as you are told?
I do my best to help you, with things that you should do.
Do you listen? No you don't, what shall I do with you?
You're lazy and bone idle, you'll just have to go.
You never get a move on, your movements much too slow.
So if you hear me moaning just be on your guard
if you don't change your ways my lad you'll work out in the yard.
So get out of my kitchen and clean the bath from froth.
Make sure the coal is on the fire and not embers in the hearth.
Show me you can do it lad pull up your socks and pace.
Put an end to my moaning and a smile back on my face.
You can’t see me work
And I behave like a berk
My brain is the productive bit
Manual labour, I don’t give a ssit
A lifetime of depression
Left me in a thinking session
Apply me to a basic manual task
Go to bed is what I ask
I’m a thinker
Not an idle stinker