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Peter Timmins Poem
Everyone meets me for certain one day.
I appear when you least expect, and lead you on your way. Don’t ask me any
questions, as I have nothing to say, but when I finally meet you, it will be your final
day.
The job I have is hard, but work will never cease, for I am the one who leads you to
everlasting peace.
I show up when your name appears, be you king or queen or pauper. I must lead
you to the light, father, mother, son or daughter.
My name I hear you ask? Some call me death, or the gate keeper. But for most of
you I am simply known as the GRIM REAPER.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
Two little men from winney- can- do, went out for a day trip to the zoo. They packed a big
lunch, and filled up the car, for the trip to the zoo was really quite far.
When they arrived, and had a look round, they were astonished at what they had found.
There were lions and tigers, monkeys and giraffe. The two men were having a really good
laugh.
But when they reached the reptile house, they had to be quiet as a mouse. For the biggest
croc that lived in the park, had broken out in the dark. They knew he was in there, but didn’t
know where; the two men were really and truly quite scared.
Then all of a sudden one of them sneezed, and fell over backwards into a big tree.
A rustle of branches and then a big scream, this can’t be happening, this must be a dream.
The man called out to his friend all concerned, then heard a big growl and slowly turned.
There in front of him sat on a rock, was a giant and rather angry big croc.
The man froze with fear and just couldn’t run, and with one snap ended up in the big crocs
tum.
So if you ever go to winney-can-do, please don’t ever visit the zoo.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
There once lived a woman called Lady-de Leisure, who turned not to men, but food for
pleasure.
She ate everything spicy and sticky and sweet, the poor lady could not even see her poor
feet. From dusk until dawn, all she would do was eat, drink, break wind, burp belch and poo.
But one day whilst eating her thirty fifth pie, the lady burped loudly, keeled over and died.
The funeral had to be held outside, but people they came to say goodbye.
The coffin itself, you’ve never seen bigger. The bearers were three forklift trucks and a
digger.
The hole in the ground was fourteen feet wide, and even then the coffin scraped at the sides.
So if you are thinking about being a lady of leisure, look elsewhere than food solely for
pleasure.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
In the long grass on the island of Toomer , lives a great big bird called the oomer boomer.
Now this bird is not like any partridge or pheasant, on the whole the boomer is really quite
pleasant. It’s beak is quite long, and it’s wings are quite tiny, and his claws are long and all
skinny and spiny.
But the weirdest thing about this bird, is a noise like something you’ve never heard. For as
the sun rises into the sky, the bird awakes and gives a big sigh.
Then the oomer positions itself on a ledge, with its bum pointing upwards, and its head in the
hedge.
Then it takes a deep breath before it starts, and proceeds to let out a massive great fart.
The fallout from this is felt all over toomer, thank goodness that there’s only one oomer
boomer.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
The Duppy Man
On the island where I come from, where the golden beaches span. Lives a terrifying
creature, known as the Duppy man.
Now the Duppy is quite picky, about whom he haunts at night. For it is only naughty kids,
that the Duppy wants to fright. They seek out all the naughty ones to scare them at their
leisure. For the screams of terrified children, is every Duppys pleasure.
What does the Duppy look like? , well let me tell you all.
But make sure you are sitting down, for the fear may make you fall.
His head is on the wrong way, and his left leg seems to drag. He knocks upon your window,
screaming like some old hag. And over his right shoulder, he carries a big bag.
And as he walks and drags his leg, he sings a little song, “All you naughty children, won’t be
naughty very long.”
The bag is for the children who he knows will mis-behave, he takes them back to his lair
where they become his slave.
But the Duppy won’t just grab a child, he must select the worst. So the evil Duppy calmly,
will ask this question first.
“Is you a good child, or rotten to the core?” and he looks deep into their eyes, where he can
see much more.
For in the eyes he sees their souls, and the truth in what they said. And if you are a good
child, the Duppy simply will say “bed”.
But if you are a bad child, and the Duppy says it’s so, he will offer you a choice, be a slave,
or your big toe.
If you become the Duppys slave, he will put you in his sack, and after a night of haunting,
with him you will go back.
He will take you to the underworld, where all the Duppy gather, never to see again your
mother or your father.
But if it is the big toe, you decide instead. The Duppy takes it graciously and tells you what’s
ahead.
“Child I will haunt you now, forever and a day. Unless you prove to me child that you can
change your way”.
Then he places your poor big toe on a necklace that he wears, and turns away and heads
off, to find another child to scare.
So children, children everywhere, on the island that I live, please pay close attention, to this
advice I give.
When you hear the whistling of the wind, and a dragging on the ground. Make sure it is not
naughtiness, but goodness to be found.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
When I was a small boy, my father said to me. Don’t stand head long in a strong wind, when
you have to have a pee.
He’d give advice to anyone, man woman girl or boy. He even went as far as giving some to
our dog Roy.
He would say stuff like goose grease is good for your hands. Or if you want to make glass,
first you need some sand.
But the best advice he gave me, just to let you know, was never, oh no never, ever eat that
yellow snow.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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Peter Timmins Poem
Twas the night before Christmas, and all was still. Well everything apart from old nanny Lil.
The old bird was nearly one hundred and two, and time is quite short, when you need a poo.
Poor granny was caught short, and started to worry. Behind her she left a trail of slurry.
When she finally made it onto the loo, all you heard was a fart belch splatter and ooooh.
She walked out the loo with hop and a skip, and slipped in the slurry and broke her hip.
So in the hospital was where Lilly spent Christmas day. In hindsight it’s probably better that
way.
Copyright © Peter Timmins | Year Posted 2010
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