You know what the Football World Cup really needs?
Goal! Goal! Goal!
with Bigger Goals!
Another yard — another meter—
on either side of the posts.
Bigger goals mean more goals!
More goals mean better football!
Goal! Goal! Goal!
Screamers from thirty metres!
Curlers into the top corner!
Thunderbolts from halfway out.
Goal! Goal! Goal!
That's what fans want to see.
Not defensive fantasy!
Not blockers lined up at the back.
Bring on attacking football!
More goals means fairer results.
Goal! Goal! Goal!
Imagine the score in Heaven?
5–7!
8–6!
10–8!
That's what fans play mega bucks to see.
Last-minute winners!
Goal! Goal! Goal!
More skills!
More thrills
More daring!
More drama!
More football!
Goal! Goal! Goal!
It's so ridiculously easy.
Just widen the goalposts.
when nobody's looking—
out a yard... out a meter... on either side
Go for goal!
Blight the nil-all draw!
Goal! Goal! Goal! Goal! Goal!
Where would she be? We asked her dad.
Wait. It’s her husband; his name is Chad.
He’s much older than she, fifty at least.
Where is our neighbor, young Charise?
She came to the door wearing curlers galore.
Oh look, she said, it’s the new neighbors next door.
She was holding a puppy, swinging silver hoops too.
Let’s see, you are Jane, and you are Little Lou?
She had on polka dotted glasses, they were perky and red.
She was married to this old guy? We were horrified, Ted.
She is cute and young, and he is old and overweight.
The puppy let us hold him; his name was Poundtate.
I am playing with mommy’s make up
While she’s tired and putting her feet up
I’m supposed to be having rest too
But face painting’s a fun thing to do.
Mommy placed the curlers in my hair
She tells me it gives me added flair
So I’m painting my face, as mom does
Hoping it makes her happy heart buzz.
My hair will become curly whirly
And my face decidedly girly
With my lips covered in red lipstick
Blusher on my cheeks, and green eyelids.
Mommy is bound to have a surprise
When she wakes up and opens her eyes
I'm sure she'll say that I look charming
Don't know what she means by self harming.
Comeback-Shirley, starting early,
I'm the sparkle that teases night.
Worship, the Madonna baby!
Comeback-Shirley
Foam hair curlers set loose coils tight.
Strawberry cheeks, fans wish to see.
Appearances, tilt the glass right.
Put your sugar bowl out, missy.
The world shall call you its sunlight.
Stolen cradle, aren't you in glee?
Comeback-Shirley
lashes bold and bright,
curlers crown a tiny queen—
sass starts with the brush.
Lynne is a cute girl with a calico skirt
Hanging clothes on the line, to wash off the dirt
She is observed by a young lad visiting called Bert
What is her name? He asked his loving Aunt Gert
Aunt Gert went to the window and looked to see
That girl by the clothesline? She belongs to Dolly Lee
But what is her name? Asked Bert, who wanted to know.
You cannot go out there, she would be embarrassed so.
But why? Asked Bert, as he continued to stare
Because said his auntie, Lynne has curlers in her hair
This was in the old days, when etiquette was real.
When being caught with pajamas or curlers was a big deal
Perched up high, a nosy spy,
a feathery fiend with a twinkling eye.
Mimics whispers, spills the tea,
squawking secrets recklessly!
"Mrs. Jones wears curlers bright!"
"Mr. Clark snores every night!"
"Lucy kissed the mailman twice!"
"Grandpa hides a stash of dice!"
The neighbors glare, the house is tense,
one loose beak, at their expense.
Locked away, but still he crows--
"Wait 'til you hear what the banker knows!"
Jill m’dear, down the street, I
dilly dally sleep, and you
with your dog-fur-and-all
(what’s his name), and
the first time I see a hook
in place of a hand, your dad’s
(and I think, ‘perhaps a war’).
Down, my grandma,
from up North; and I
dilly dally sleep just down the road,
missing her, missing her, convinced
by mom and her to keep
company with friends - friends?
I miss her, miss her, my grandma
and not Jill m’dear, down the street -
not in the least. Still the memory,
does dilly dally and sends me
back in time to keep a candle burning.
We were never friends. She invited me
this one night - we didn’t mesh. I
left better friends back in the village.
I didn’t want to go and spend the night,
but I was convinced; and would I
remember this night so vividly, besides?
My grandma also convinced me
to wander out in curlers, ‘neath a scarf.
Self conscious was I, but if she was here,
back from the past, I’d wander out
once again, to a store, red in face.
Would I then go and spend time,
once more, with Jill m’dear, just
to glimpse my gram’s convincing,
and hear her Buffalonian accent?
You betcha! …and see my mom, too.
Dear Santa, it’s Looby Loo, I’m still here
It’s a miracle, have been ill all year
I don’t want you to forget to stop by
As this old gal would then break down and cry.
I need decent bloomers, mine are in holes
And us oldies truly do feel the cold
A box of curlers, the soft spongy type
As the old un’s wake me up in the night.
I’d like a dressing gown, size twenty four
I can’t do mine up, it don’t fit no more
Some new fluffy slippers to match it too
Mine are worn out, so I need them it’s true.
I may be old, but I like to look nice
Lipstick and face powder would see me right
Oh, some perfume too as mine has run dry
I wish to smell sweet when passing folk by.
Walking isn’t easy for me these days
A four wheeled walker would make me feel brave
I’d be most grateful if all this I get
I’m sure I will, as you are the best yet.
Try not to wake me as I needs my sleep
I’ll leave you some wine and mince pies to eat
Slam the door shut when you leave Santa please
I don’t want my presents stolen by thieves.
Bless you dear Santa for all that you do
Merry Christmas and may the Lord bless you
Looby Loo.
She was wearing her pajamas,
while standing at the checkout stand.
There were pink curlers in her hair,
a box of twinkies in here hand.
A screaming child was on each arm,
two more crying brats in the cart.
One was pulling the fire alarm,
one was tearing boxes apart.
Half of the boxes were open,
cereal spilling on the floor.
The two kids just kept on screaming,
about how they needed some more.
Felt sorry when her total hit,
three seventy-eight and a dime.
‘Til she chose not to buy the meat,
kept the beer, cigarettes, and wine.
Clown curlers on a cow? Does it look posh? Chic?
I must admit, it is different, unusual and unique.
The cow is humiliated, he got tired of standing still.
Luckily, he got a treat, a sour pickle, dill.
*Image of Mamie Surfeuse by Pinterest.
Wilma *Flynnstone Flip
Crazy chick half out of her gourd,
chose to surf the ironing board,
hair curlers wound up,
tube ride earns gold cup,
resolving laugh as she gets floored.
*A Flynnstone Flip is an aerial backflip on a surfboard created by Flynn Novak.
2022 July 17
*4th Place*
Limerick
~~Lisa YY: Judged 2022 July 19
**RZ; aabba. HMS; 8,8,5,5,8.
I saw an old lady at home
Whose habits bizarre when alone!
She thinks she's abroad
On her ironing board
Surfing tides in a wavey zone.
Her arms and her legs were well spread.
Her curlers tucked neat on her head.
Her pearls sparkled bright,
She squealed with delight,
"Well I can't do this when I'm dead!"
Affectionately dubbed "Silver Surfer"
What a spirit for any to care for!
A tonic indeed
When humour's the need,
And for it the board ain't much worse, awe!
Written 14th July 2022
For the "Limerick" contest
(For a picture of a lady standing on
an ironing board, poised like a surfer.)
Sponsor: Lisa YY
He said,
"wear your bedroom shoes darling,
and all those black frilly things
that need garters, suspenders, and straps.
She smiled secretly to herself
knowing he would turn up in 2 day old shorts
unshaved, a little drunk and probably
forgetting to shower.
So when the time came
she surprised him in the boudoir
dressed in an old housecoat,
legs unshaved, and hair in curlers.
Typically, he turned off the light
and got right to it.
Have you seen my arrogant cow? The farmer asked me.
I am not sure, I told him. I have seen at least twenty-three.
She is the one wearing curlers, as prissy as a cow can be.
I had not seen her, but now I was searching avidly.
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