Potty training a toddler is tough
Takes patience and lots of love
And on a whim
Says he can’t swim
Fears falling in drowning butt up
Motion-activated caught on camera
while cookies for the kids I was cooking
a collared cat crept into the kitchen
when I stepped outside and wasn't looking
his potty break was well-timed
as, sadly, I'd left the door unlocked
onto the counter by the sink he climbed
bared his butt and crapped in the crock
tho' he gave new meaning
to vanilla chocolate chip
if I ever collar him doing it again
his mangy tail end I'll severely whip
as, if he wants nine lives to live
he'd really best think twice
or he'll sleep with the fishes
(not eat them)
as such behaviour is just not nice
Sitting with Winnie
Running from MiMi in polka dots
Makes me giggle at haughty tots
Who don’t want to use their potty pots.
I’m now thinking of tequila shots
And other things I oughta nots.
~ Judy Bausch
Someone left the window open in the nursery
I slowly crept out of it because I had to pee
I wandered taking baby steps until I found a tree
T’was then I had the feeling something was watching me
It must be close for I could see its ragged broken track
I trembled as I thought of its claws upon my back
Thus, did I scurry through the brush, yet it followed me
I hadn’t planned a morning chase, just a trip outside to pee
I froze in place and got the scent, a fearful blast of air
For I was stuck in a bramble bush, with no way out of there
I heard it hiss and felt its breath, it dropped like a TKO’d fighter
It’d placed its nose, quite cold and damp, too close to my diaper
I made it home without event dragging my rescue scent
The monster of the bush left too, I’m not sure which way hewent
Time for a birthday potty... err Party
For the one who writes a wee bit naughty
The birthday girl is Jan
She's sitting on the can
I think she might be farty... err forty!
A potty shed? That’s what she said;
Connects the head to the flower bed.
Tomatoes are the best around,
And that soil is nice and brown.
Come on in and have a seat;
Squash is waiting for a treat.
Beans are sprouting in a rush;
There’s ten more since the last big flush.
Sell it down at the market square.
I ain’t eating; au contraire!
Potting shed? What you said?
Now my ears are burning red.
Only poo can make this world seem bright
Only poo can make what's heavy light
Only poo and poo alone can thrill me to the bone
So I fill my toilet to the brim with poo.
A standard toilet paper roll
Has shrunk two inches from its goal
Since all we need
Is just pure greed
And one old-fashioned finger bowl
He can curse up a storm
make a sailor blush
Foul blue language
spewed out in a gush
Could strip paint clean
off a battleship
Exponentially worse if
you give him any lip
Rambling in sincerity's guise
but his worst 4-letter words
are all his LIES
8/16/2020
The poem was partially inspired by a phrase I would hear from time to time as I was growing up. “He’s a potty mouth and he needs to have it cleaned out with soap!” I can assure you the repeated uttering of that phrase wasn’t directed towards me as it took only one time to put me on the straight and narrow ;)
My old brown teapot has a broken spout
It can no longer pour things out.
It makes me sad to say
This poor teapot's had its day
I took it to the rubbish bin
To put this useless teapot in
For some reason, I don't know
I could not let this old thing go
This article had served me well
Many a tale this pot could tell
Like a true and loyal friend
It had served me well until its end
Now it has a broken spout
I feel a need to throw it out
As I held the pot over the bin
And was a bout to drop it in
When something inside me said no
You are not ready to let it go
Holding my old teapot close to me
We went inside and made some tea
I’m appalled at Trumpty the Potus
His Dettol cure just doesn’t float us
Best to keep his gob shut
(Think his brain is kaput)
He’s trying to kill off ‘dem’ voters
04/26/20
Here I sit all broken hearted.
The loo it braced, but I only farted.
My paper shivered, the walls did shake.
Those darn burritos the wife did bake.
Morning poo time come and gone.
My charmins lost but I still have brawn.
Sitting patiently there on the shelf.
Right next to Santa's little elf.
The good stuff now has sadly departed.
The hemorrhoids flare, the pain has started.
Gently and careful, I must take care.
Potty time now comes with a prayer.
If there were persons I'd like too punch
Corbyn, that Labour bunch
I clench my fist and crunch
when I hear those lousy blunts
Jo Swinson and Lib Dems
psychological degenerates
backward thinking symptoms
in their no chance candidates
Brexit, I'm up for it,
but not the Party,
the electorate dont get it
their not so smarty
That Sturgeon bloke gets on my balls,
doesn't care for the majority
Scottish referendum ignore,
selfish priorities
How can these politicians
reject the system or democracy
and still hold their positions
while dead set on mockery
So if you moan about Boris
you've not looked on beyond he
cus he might be doing it horrid
but at least he respects democracy
she sits
queenly
upon the
thrown
she was
told to
sit upon
she
doesn't
know
but sort
of has
an idea
why
she is
being
treated so
majestically
suggestively
after eating
and drinking
her fill
she now
is told that
since you
put it in
it must
come
out
her name
is Melody
hardly old
enough to
have a
harmony
but she
keeps
trying to
compose
herself
and then
brilliantly
skips the
number one
symphony and
triumphantly
plays her
number
two
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