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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
Isn't it funny how people see money
pieces of metal so very small
there's not a lot you can do
with a penny or two
money itself has really no uses at all
it used to be beads and once it was shells
at least you could wear them and buy or sell
how many have a dim view of money
pieces of paper so wafer-thin
there's not much you can fill with a note or a bill
money itself has very few ways it can thrill
its value is based on the bars of gold
buried in the basement of a bank
and whomever says whatever they're worth
is who we have thank
the root of all evil isn't money it's man
he'll wheel deal and steal to grab all he can
the more money he has the more money he needs
the root of all evil is mankind and his greed
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
Looking over my northern shoulder
at the changing shades of day
a weak winter sun turning twilight grey
teardrops of rain on the window
the gentle sigh of the wind
storm clouds in the evening sky
bring it all back again
poring over unwritten letters
in the solitude of night
a dim lit candle shining star white light
telephone silent unanswered
candlelight quietly dimmed
unwritten letters to no one
start it all over again
I don't want to be lonely
for the rest of my life
and if I love you only
will you stay by my side
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
I do enjoy verbal tennis
wordplay may be a game
outwit outsmart the opponent
is the only aim
lobbing phrases across the net
volley and rally back and forth
no one's a loser and yet
those precious few
who think on their feet
will always win have you beat
Shakespeare is the all-time champ
merely a player with poem and sonnet
through thick and thin he'd go for a spin
and put some English on it
it's fun for all with no balls or calls
and if your serve is up to scratch
unless words fail
at the thought you quail
it's word game set and match
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
In conversation
the sounds
of her thinking astounds
logic rebounds
argument confounds
rationale knows not bounds
there's no reasoning
with what she expounds
or justification
in that which she propounds
when all facts fail
and reality surrounds
her point of view
tho' it has zero grounds
piled on in mounds
with absurdity she compounds
adding injury to insult
my brain it impounds
traps me wraps me saps my energy
inducing mental lethargy causing total apathy
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
There once was a sensitive vicar,
who said, "I'm not one to bicker,
but the peal of that bell,
makes me feel quite unwell,
and plays merry hell with my ticker."
An incensed old soul by the spire,
preaching incense-igniting to the choir,
exclaimed, "There is but one catch,
when striking a match,
don't set your surplice on fire."
A parson spoke from the nave,
"Spend all you can, do not save,
if you've spilled all the sands,
and still have time on your hands,
you can't take it with you to the grave."
A wise minister in the kirk,
enlightened, observed with a smirk,
"When it's dark out there,
put your hands in the air,
as many hands make light work.”
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
It's enough to make one chunder
there used to be a time Down Under
when fair dinkum the label on the tucker tin
only stated the true blue maker's name
and the Vegemite we'd eat for brekkie contained therein
while not a porky implied mate there's something to hide
with a shonky no responsibility disclaimer
I’m spewin’ cranky as today's focus is on what's not inside
no GMO cholesterol additives gluten calories caffeine nuts
no added colouring sugar preservatives
no artificial sweeteners monounsaturated
no polyunsaturated &/or trans fats
and bloody oath cobber that's not all as I recall
no worries tho' there's also low sodium
not whingeing but one wonders if it's a dodgy admission
there's no bonzer thingo within such as ace nutrition
meanwhile I'll fill my billycan from yon billabong
surrounded by a few emu and a roo or two
as up a gum tree the kookaburra laughingly looks on
there's nothing more I can do so may as well
bung another shrimp on the barbie blow the froth off a few
have one last blast on me didgeridoo Blue and shoot through
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
There's no gnus
like no gnus
if you're a gnu
who likes no gnus
but if you're lonely
and agnother gnu
you'd like to see
as two gnu's company
yes indeed
believe you me
altho' it may
seem absurd
no less than
three's a herd
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
Some with the gumption
who continually
jump to assumptions
and with no allusions
always arrive
at wrong conclusions
board the wrong train
again and again
and in total frustration
never alight
at the right station
off-track inference prevails
their train of thought
is off the rails
it's repetitive inanity
there's a word for that
it's called 'insanity'
and let's not forget those
excuse me for speaking
while you're interrupting
(he did mutter)
compelled to complete
every sentence I utter
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
The Tower was engineered
by Monsieur Eiffel in Paris
the Wheel was favoured
by Mr. Ferris
Michelangelo in Rome
contributed St. Peter's Basilica dome
Eddystone Lighthouse the first
was constructed by Winstanley and
in St. Paul's Cathedral
Sir Christopher Wren had a hand
the seated Thinker
was carved out by Auguste Rodin
the Taj Mahal (Mumtaz') tomb
commissioned by Shah Jahan
all roads lead to the Colosseum
started by Emperor Vespasian
Borglum executed Mount Rushmore
while Hadrian gave us the Wall
and Ferdinand de Lesseps
secured the Suez Canal
in Byzantine Constantinople
Justinian I built the Hagia Sophia
in Italy Bonanno Pisano began
the (later leaning) Tower of Pisa
the Egyptian Pharaoh Khafre
inspired the Sphinx
but in Scotland who designed
the Musselburgh (golf) Links
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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Martin Howard Samuel Poem
Where there's a will
there's a funeral
death is a fact of life
a grave undertaking
for a mortician
and one day some day
you and I
will wake up dead
hopefully the lifetime led
was of our own making
too late for looking back
no regrets and yet
it's appalling
when we wind up
in a winding sheet
waiting on that beir
aside from six feet under
where do we go
from here?
Some say, 'Heaven,'
some say, 'Hell,' oh well,
by then our goose is cooked, wagon fixed,
and we'll never know 'til it's too late
as they've punched our ticket,
cleaned our clock and wiped our slate.
Copyright © Martin Howard Samuel | Year Posted 2025
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