Bungling Poems

An Actor's Life

At three 'o clock this afternoon,
A shaft of light pierced my room.
Curtains flung back as I arise:
An actor's life I do surmise!

Working halls and live theatre,
Singing songs in every meter.
Playing Hamlet, then a clown,
Each week it changes in this town.

Tonight my accent is deep Fen,
My entrance scene is played again.
People come to see me ramble,
I am a cop; Inspector Randall. 

Bungling cases, then success:
Miss Marple would be so impressed!
I love the clapping of the crowd,
We take our bow, feeling proud.

Then travelling home in my old car
To see my kitten, Balthazar.
The night is cold, it's nearly three,
My kitten is here, on my knee.

I sip some vino, 'Espanol',
The kitten thinks I am his doll.
Razor needles pierce my skin,
But I am calm deep within.

Night owls hoot, it is bedtime,
I finish off my blood-red wine.
Take Balthazar his little toy,
To watch him play is such a joy.

I say goodnight and shut the door
Thinking of tonight's applause:
An aged actor's life to stay.
Tomorrow it's a matinée.

Oh See Dee

Whilst pensive and serene
and seated on the loo 
contentedly having 
my morning number two 
my serenity was shaken
torn asunder
by a massive mistake 
a terrible blunder
someone had installed a new toilet-roll 
hopelessly bungling this very simple op
the paper, oh horror of horrors 
was not being fed from over the top
as quick as a flash
not missing a beat
I swopped it around to feed as it should
restoring my serenity with this simple feat
business now concluded  
with a nod of approval I watched it unroll 
but, this glaring absurdity
had taken its toll
with hands properly washed
and soap in its receptacle, right side up
I saw something else that had my nerves all ajangle 
another absurdity whose jig was now up 
the towel on its rail
was not folded in two
but haphazardly bunched 
and hanging askew 
drying my hands
I folded it neatly as it will be on show   
then hung it back up
ends equidistant from the tiled floor below 
leaving the bathroom a tad overwrought  
I immediately felt my sanity slipping
with a nice cup of tea and some toast on my mind 
my senses were assailed by the kitchen tap dripping.

An Orderly Mind

He had a disorderly mind.
She had an ordered one.

She had cerebral files,
binders,
alphabetized answers
for every occasion.

He would come to her
with questions
like - what-do-you-call-it
and who’s-his-face
and whatever was the name of 
some thingamajig or other.

She would calmly dig into her mental
folders, data banks and dossiers
and supply him the correct
precise response or comment.

He would hurry away
holding her answer tightly \
in his loose 
fumbling, bungling 
and forgetful mind.

Then she would happily turn
to her main purpose in life

which was torturing little animals
and laughing maniacally as she
listened to their screams.

Hesitant

A big conclusion by tomorrow I must hurry up and reach.
 It's about what I am to ‘do’ with my doggy “boy, Billy ‘Blue’.”
Half-wittingly I just keep vacillating between two notions.
 My mind is ‘churning’; my thoughts ‘turning’ like a tsunami.
 A bouncy cute but "crazy critter" is making me feel so daft.
'He' may ‘BE’ in control of ‘ME’, a “bungling fur baby’s” Mama.
Do I give him back this Monday? Oh, I need to decide by then.
No ‘napping' for all his ‘yapping,’ but “his eyes” are "so sweet!"

Sept. 25, 2022
for Joseph May's The A's Have It Poetry Contest
(I sure hope I did this right!)

Toilet Humour

Russians are clumsy, a fact that's well known 
Mistook a lone beach for the battle zone
Odessa was out of reach
So hit a loo on the beach
I hope there was no one sat on the throne... 


Written on 22 May 2022



The bungling Russian navy fired a $5 million dollar misslle at Odessa claiming to hit a military target, it hit a target of high value alright , a toilet on a deserted beach.

'dillo In the Bed

I heard a ‘dillo muttering,
a-traipsing and a-bungling.
I could not make out what he said,
a-chattering, a-sputtering.
He started rooting in the bed,
a-grubbing and a-burgling.
Then all at once, he up and fled,
a-prancing and a-scuttling.
Was glad to see him go.

Again! my pillow, rustling,
a-chattering, a-sputtering.
It filled me with a sense of dread,
a-shaking and a-shuddering.
And now he’s underneath my bed,
a-grubbing and a-burgling.
I woke, my heart a-fluttering,
a-racing and a-thundering.
I think I’ll read a book instead,
These dreams are weird, you know?

Ones Own Drive

You are adept at burrowing and slithering. 
Fight your way through the mud, bungling, and spilling. 
Plunged into the insides of the rind and outer casing. 
The further you lead, beyond troublesome it is becoming. 
Thinking over this is compulsatory rehearsing. 
Assumptions might be thwarted by the finding.

Who Knows Them All

I finally stopped belittling myself for not knowing them all.
Because who does? 
I mean, really, WHO?
Maybe my mother.
No one else in my family.
There are 600,000 of them in the English language.
Homophones like ate and eight.
Adjectives like gurgling and bungling.
Adverbs like actively and mactively
Okay I made up mactively
So I guess that makes six hundred thousand and one.

Life's Design

Life like snow is fleeting and beautiful.
Fragile and light to touch, breakable and unforgettable.
Careful when approaching the winter season, biting cold like heartless people.
Gnawing and taking pieces from your soul if you let them.
Everything needs an invite inside.
The pyche is strong, until shattered by insane becomings.
Bound are we to survive unless choose otherwise.
Discordant weather is harsh to the soul if you let it.
Soften your ways and the day isn't hard enough.
Cling to old habits and harden like the frozen morn of winter cold.
Endless choices abound if only have knowledge of unconditional God.
Living God has loving you to help and guide.
Mercy is great and calming to the savage beast.
Jungling and bungling the day is well, knowing that love solves the fight and wins out is the design.


Heather Turner

Creature of Habit

I did not find you,
I tumbled into a gold mine,
Banging and bungling against rocks,
Reaching the ground all bruised and battered.

You are 132 in one,
I can make it without you,
Needing no other to make me,
See that time, that passion, that pain,
That laughter has made me Creature of habit.

You turn years to days,
Tattoo my wishful wounds,
From that need to be loved,
I found each different one in you,
And you make me creature of habit.

Roll Up

ROLL UP
I can’t go down
In time replenish
Seek refill the void
A vacuum in existence
Bungling energies crumble
Like a young seedling break
I can’t pay
That in introspects adventure relish
Of time it could have been
It won’t be any nostalgia, perhaps
I will not take that road
destined to the midst nay
Since an impossible route it is
I will embark embrace
Anticipated ventures draw
Inventions of a raw heart cherish
The past though scented
Will be a tool pronounce renounce
Till it is not a mirage any more

Bungling Bankers and Brutal Bakers

Bungling Bankers and Brutal Bakers

There are those who were muck rakers,
As well as liars, losers and breath takers;
Improperly invested,
And poorly digested;
Been bungling bankers and brutal bakers.

Jim Horn

Laminate

Laminate

Plastic covered up definitions lip with profound mastic. 
Layered lamella formed single filed lines separating life from death; 
Held onto by paper thin adhesions. 
Besides bungling up a perfectly fine bollix, 
Laminate single handedly took arms up touching innocency. 
Scrolls of past things are looked less upon; 
By inclinations vestal eye, seen glimpsing beyond chaste. 
Blind alley virtual figment reality innocuously engulfed—
Suppressed complimentary service accepts multiplied donators; 
Final offers pickled debacle is utter intrinsic debasement.
One lamination, under God, with liberty and justice; For all…

| Laminate | IrOniC ZiNc 12-13-15 12:59am (ct)

Those Tiny Things

Those Tiny Things

Those tiny things that fly through space
Straight to my bird feeder start to race
And no matter what is their nomenclature
Head right for my newly placed nectar.

But there had been a great big breeze
Blowing through leaves of all the trees
My food for them exists in high demand
On feeder did find it difficult to land.

Maybe patience they must beg and borrow
Return again for more food again tomorrow
And there were some others in front of me
Like wild wasp and bungling bumblebee.

More than anything else I still do dread
A big bunch of ants before me instead
Birds were caught betwixt and between
Due to competition always being so keen.

James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet

Compared To Bungling Idiots

Compared to Bungling Idiots

To my poems pretty soon should be immune
And to receive comments I must impugn
Your delightful mind to become more diligent
Trying to find where party platforms went.

What if I put in thumb pulling out a plumb
Could you make a morsel or maybe crumb
For me to try and eat after learning later
Into your camp thought I was an infiltrator.

Trying to keep Hilary hounds at bay again
While cold outside and want to be let in
Changer wanters exist with their dignity
Needing a check which we can call reality.

Two Presidents in White House at same time
Could that be considered a capital crime?
When in past husband he had been there
With Hilary adding more than a fair share.

Why together your teeth continue to  grind
When you want to have much peace of mind
And are old resting in your rocking chair
Don's trumpets are creating quite a scare.

James Thomas Horn

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