A poet, that's me I'm called Jan
Was NEVER a poetry fan
Now two books bear my name
Not for fortune or fame
I'll pen poop whenever I can!
If ever I am stuck for words
I resort to write about turds
Brown things that you poo
When you're sat on the loo
Poop poetry's not just for nerds!
Loo humour it is my forte
Risqué rhymes, I’ll write night and day
I’ve finished next book
Will you dare to look
It’s naughty – that’s all I will say!
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.
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
When gentlemen stand up to pee
I wish that they’d consider me
cos I always sit down
In OUR room with no crown
I’m 'hopping' mad as you can see!
(In the UK the throne is another word for the toilet)
Poet's notes ... We had workmen in our house today and they never once put the toilet seat down... it drove me crazy!
8/11/19
Ever been in a Public or Club Toilet
And read the Graffiti on the Wall's
So many Numbers to Ring
Providing such a rich variety of thing's
For a good time and personal pleaure
Finished shook , paused
And thought maybe just maybe after few more Shots and Jaeger Bombs
It would be a bit of a laugh to give
For a good time call Debbie 055
Me Love you long time
But then i thought hold on a second
I am in the Mens Toilet
And if i am not mistaken
Debbie does Dallas
Is probably an alias and metaphor
For # Sad Loser
Probably Confuses
Finds Childish humour funny
Has a Blow-Up Girlfriend
And Lives with his Mother
And writes stupid thing's
To impress his imaginary friends
A poetry club challenge of the month poem!
Now some come here to sit and think
And some come here to pooh and stink
but i come here to scratch my balls
and read the writing on the walls
For many years I've known this rhyme
And it has stood the test of time
unlike so many public lavs
no longer shown on our satnavs
And so the question must be asked
From where can someone now broadcast
toilet humour full and meaty,
some crude, amusing, graffiti
maybe a wall made from cement
or on a local monument
beware a backlash that's fierce
if you scrawl over Ruth Pierce
So we need toilets here and now
for poetry that's not highbrow
'Cos when you have to really think
Go try somewhere that has a stink
which brings me back to poems old
to smile at that which was foretold
So here I sit, broken hearted
paid a penny, only farted
You want me to push, you want me to strain,
You want me to give you my all,
You want me to focus all my attention,
No matter how big or how small,
You turn out to be at the end of the day,
Your size is no measure of pride,
Rather it’s the fight that was had to achieve,
This love from deep down inside,
This love that I leave behind me each day,
This love of what we began,
This love of how much bigger we were,
Before I sat on the can,
Every day you want me to push you away,
From one you want to make two,
Every day you strain the love in my heart,
Every time I sit on the loo.
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