Most people have played the ‘would you rather?’ game at some point in their lives. One question I have been asked a few times is ‘Would you rather have hands for feet or feet for hands?’ This got me thinking. What if my hands and feet were swapped? Would I be an outcast? Or would my uniqueness attract people?
Hands For Feet
If I had hands for feet
And my legs were really arms
I would cartwheel down the street
And seduce you with my charms
My knitting is awful but my gymnastics are on point
‘Feet’ is about a man whose feet have a mind of their own. It has terrible, terrible consequences. I wrote this in my second year of university when I was on placement. I was probably suffering from exhaustion.
Feet feet, in shower they meet
Walk me down a gloomy street
Walk me to a grimy bar
No my feet! You’ve gone too far!
Feet feet, two socks of meat
Dancing to the crazy beat
Dancing on the table top
Come now feet! It’s time to stop!
Feet feet, ten toes complete
Take me where the barmen eat
Take me right into the pie
Get me eaten by some guy
Into a pie? Sounds like quite an impressive feat!
This is a very immature poem about chocolate.
Chocolate melts like sticky glue
Through my body, turns to poo
Chocolate crumbles into pieces
Through my body, turns to faeces
This chocolate log will shortly be a… er…
I’m not quite sure what inspired this poem but it’s essentially about a metaphor gone wrong.
I stumble as my mind absorbs
Your juicy, fruity optic orbs
Then scream as you, to my surprise
Cry double cream from strawberreyes
Better that than cucumbears
This is a poem about crazy future medicine. We already use animal parts for some medical procedures, such as heart valves and stuff, but what if we could replace internal organs with entire animals that functioned as a second miniature body to support our own?
In this limerick, a man has had a life-saving operation that replaced his failing heart with a fish. However, it is not just the heart of the fish that becomes part of the man. It’s mind, it’s instincts, and it’s innermost desires begin to manifest themselves in his behaviour with strange results.
The Man With A Fish For A Heart
The man with a fish for a heart
Awoke in the night with a start
And started to crave
Salty water to bathe
But his bed was too warm to depart
This can’t end whale
This is similar to today’s other poem, The Tiny Chocolate Man, in that it tells of the plight of another non-human man in a world of humans. The similarity ends there. This is about a hand-man. Literally a man who is just a hand. With hands. It’s probably best not to think about it too much.
Talk To The Hand
Talk to the hand
‘Cause he’s got his own face
He’s the very first born of a brand new race
He’s working the land
‘Cause he wants a new glove
And to shower his children with tickly love
You can’t understand
‘Cause you’re merely a man
So you can’t do the things that a uni-hand can
Next week on Homes Under The Hammer
The Man With A Head For A Towel is a sequel of sorts to a previous poem of mine, The Man With A Towel For A Head. As ridiculous as the concept is, it suddenly occurred to me that if one man’s head had, for some bizarre reason, been swapped with a towel, then doesn’t it make sense that somewhere, someone’s towel was swapped with a head! How completely awful would that be? In keeping with the previous poem, this is another limerick. I’m still quite new at writing limericks but I quite like this one, if only for it’s sheer stupidity.
The Man With A Head For A Towel
The man with a head for a towel
Was drying himself with a scowl
The head in his hand
Said ‘Your belly is bland’
Then disappeared into a cowl
One of these things is not like the other