Boris Poems

Farewell to Boris and Natasha

     Boris, too short
       Natasha, too thin
     Which fairly describes
       the pickle they’re in

     Rocky’s got them surrounded
       with friends tall and/or fat
  

BORIS AND SOOSA

Soosa plans to go on a cycle ride,
to a distant place, misty and wild
where nature’s beauty could be seen 
the fog that could ensnare the eye.

The teen girl was blissfully alone,
rides through the chill in the air
a strange sound made her groan, 
Turning around, she saw a boy there.

Was shivering, with no woollen cloth, 
Soosa

The Parable of the Pipe-Down Piper

Behold the Pied Piper has tossed his pipe belatedly in the trash
   Having led folks down some garden paths he trousered wads of cash
Dollars, pounds, euros, rolls of wallpaper - the currency didn’t matter
   He gathered countless cretins, enchanted by piffle and patter

From sound suburban Ruislip to Henley-on-the-Thames
   This

Amusing My Friend Boris

intrigued by thesaurus
given by Joe Morris
look up the word porous
who? asks my friend Doris
amusing my friend Boris

a gift from friend Morris
I love a thesaurus
this takes care of Doris
I relook up porous
amusing my friend Boris

Boris

A Brit politician named Boris
Who spoke like he ate a thesaurus
Became the head bloke
Which seemed like a joke
As his morals were somewhat porous

Sir Boris Gives Thanks To the Gods

Boris the brave kneels at the feet of the remnants of his castle’s gate.
The battle was rough, and he wonders now if he might be too late.
Where are the ladies in waiting? What of the queen?
The Wayfarer army was the toughest one the knights had ever seen.

Village is in ruins. The townspeople are probably in

Boris Is Going

Do you remember Boris; back in 2020 
A virus was about to break, yet people
None the wiser ' at first he said no real
Big stuff, along with Holland we should face it tough.'
he'd been briefed then by whitty..Dear oh
Dear, three weeks on the tone was changed
To science he'd listen.' Pray come again.?
He caught bad covid

Dream Party At Number 10

In my dreams
like many have dreams,
I went to number 10 Drowning Street.
in this pandemic, isolation to cheat,
there is no other better place 
to meet, greet, drink and eat!
In the back garden, I sat with Boris,
chatting and laughing a guff!
Donald sat drinking a can of beer,
American, of course! all in good cheer,
tears rolling down his eyes

Pm Boris Johnson's Bad Hair Days

PM Boris Johnson wrestles with bad hair days, but he doesn't seem to care!

Would some kind soul lend the bloke a comb and brush to tame his tousled hair!

Boris Becker - Bawdy

Boris Becker
misused his pecker
He had sex in a closet
leaving a baby deposit!

Inspired by Brian Strands' poem Becker which was about an artist and my poem is posted with his kind permission

Tennis player Boris Becker had sex in a restaurant closet with a model he'd just met. Becker acknowledged paternity of a daughter, Anna, with Russian

In Which Boris Takes Pmqs In the Toilet At Downing Street

It's nearly time for PMQs
Said Boris, and I've blocked the bog
With one of my enormous poos
It's nearly time for PMQ's
It's hard to verbally abuse
The opposition when your log
Is staring at you. PMQs
Said Boris, and I've blocked the bog

© Gail Foster 18th November 2020

Boris the Cat

Two weeks of sun at Xmas and new year
Palm Oasis in our nineteenth year
Always a joy around the pool we sat
Never did we think to make a friend
Called Boris the cat

The old chap was friendly and his nose had seen many battles
We called him Boris as he resembled our Prime Minister
His white fur also a

The Saga of Suzanne the Snowflake and Cyril the Racist Ware Squirrel Part 3

continues ....
(for it 'twas by him that she was awoken). 
'Dont listen to hate, or give in to fear, 
He said with a countenance kindly, 
remember your Vedas and mantras, 
Let your be life be lived for the many, 
and not for the few, 
don't be led into fascism blindly'! 
With these wise, timely words

Thesaga of Suzanne the Snowflake and Cyril the Racist Ware Squirrel Part 2

And there the story might have ended 
But the bite on Suzanne's thumb 
Throbbed and became distended, 
'I must say, I feel a little rum', 
she said and lay down on her bed, 
but as she fell asleep a patch of fur 
started growing on her tum. 
She slept a light and fitful sleep 
Full

Tory Envy

I wish I was a Tory,
It would be another story,
So much simpler not to care
Or have to be aware
Of how other folks must strive
To make a crust to stay alive.
I could keep my privileged indifference
Surrounded by a picket fence
I wouldn't have to own the knowledge
(Whilst enjoying Heston's snail porridge)
That paupers are dying on NHS trolleys
I

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