During my first year of university, there was a very convenient windowsill in the kitchen of my flat that I was able to sit on. I found it very relaxing to sit there and watch people going about their business on campus outside. I meant nothing sinister by it but this habit of mine was seen by some as perverted or creepy. Personally, I see nothing wrong with a bit of people watching.
People watching takes great skill
Yes, people watchers got a nerve
For if you seek this simple thrill
You’re soon denounced as just a perv
People eating takes great skill
But people eaters frighten me
For if you seek this simple thrill
I’ll have to live in your belly
Sometimes I like to pretend I’m on a secret surveillance mission
There is no particular moral behind this poem. It is simply about the lives of two people known as Smelly Ellen and Jolly Olly. One is rejected and hated by society, the other is welcomed and loved.
Poor Smelly Ellen
Was born and died a felon
But no one cared a melon
For little Smelly Ellen
Then old Jolly Olly
Was seen without a brolly
But no one thought it folly
Of little Jolly Olly
I will never forget Jolly Olly’s Brolly Folly!
This is another self referential poem. This poem is about being lazy when writing poems and going for easy rhymes and topics (which is pretty much all I do). And as it suggests, it really was written in half a minute just to see what kind of poetry that would produce. The results were very disappointing.
And Then I Quack
I walk forwards
I walk back
I walk round
And then I quack
Want a poem?
I’ll begin it
Wrote this one
In half a minute
Today’s poems are self referential (or ‘meta’). There’s no particular reason I chose them, and they’re certainly not my best but I think the idea of a poem that acknowledges that it is a poem is an entertaining idea. I really don’t know what this poem is about beyond that.
This poem was over before it began
I knew it, and that was the reason I ran
This poem was fun but it really should end
And now that it’s over, I can be your friend
How very meta
This poem takes inspiration from a couple of sources. People talk a lot about how many rats there are in London. Personally, I’ve only ever seen them on the underground. Since coming to Birmingham however, I’ve seen loads including one the other day that was as big as a fully grown cat. Also, my girlfriend has repeatedly found rat droppings in the garage of her house.
The name of this poem comes from her housemate and is not actually a rats name. They had a mouse problem for a while and she was trying to remember the name of that mouse from Narnia. The talking mouse from Narnia was, of course, called Reepicheep, but she got it a little wrong. Thus was born Poopascoop.
A rat named Poopascoop was snooping
Drooping in the midday sun
Turned towards the shed of pooping
Poopascoop began to run
He saw a pretty girl there, stooping
Scooping up his gloopy poop
T’was Poopascoop the snooper’s poop
She stooped to scoop all day on loop
Steps for easy rat access to avoid further accidents
Walrus are pretty crazy and majestic creatures, but whenever you see them on nature documentaries, they seem to be angry or upset. This puzzled me for a while. How could they be so sad when they were so epic? I think I worked it out though. It’s their teeth. Those teeth look really impressive and would definitely see off competition or predators, but what else would they see off? Looking that frightening and having two great big enamel bars in front of your face would seriously limit your social life. This is my tribute to the Walrus. It’s about a Walrus named Walrus. The poem is called Walrus.
Can Walrus smile, or do his teeth
Restrict the lip that lies beneath?
Does Walrus wail in solemn pain
Because he’ll never laugh again?
Can Walrus hug, or do his tusks
Reduce his friends to skewered husks?
Does Walrus whine in empty dread
Because he cannot save the dead?
Can Walrus dance, or do his fangs
Kill anything he overhangs?
Does Walrus whinge in desperate rage
Because his body is a cage?
Can Walrus kiss, or does his jaw
Inhibit access to his maw?
Does Walrus weep in lonely fear
Because his lover won’t draw near?
How does he hold a toothbrush in those flippers anyway?
While the last poem dealt with procrastination, this poem deals with the sleepless nights that students know oh so well. It was written two years ago at around 3:00 in the morning as I put the finishing touches on an assignment that I actually did very well in. I was horribly stressed and extremely sleep deprived and I think I really captured the manic tension and wild, disjointed thoughts that go with being in that kind of condition.
My new teapot really quacks me up