Some might argue that short poems about life is not a very helpful title. In essence, this is selection of Paul Curtis' short funny poems about family and domestic life, but omitting poems about love, death or sex, which are dealt with elsewhere. To kick off proceedings, a funny poems about a common domestic problem which perplexes men.
She cook’s and cleans
And keep’s things neat
And with five in the house
That’s no mean feat
There’s just one question
Though that has me beat
Tell me why can she never
Work the toilet seat
It's an oft asked question and one which is best answered with a little white lie. Whoever coined the saying 'honesty is the best policy' must have lead a very sheltered or battered life.
Does my bum look big in this?
Well is the answer no or yes
Actually you have a big bum
So stop blaming it on the dress
Next, a quasi-philosophical short poem about the effects of winning the national lottery on one's mental and physical state.
Despite winning twenty million pound
My feet are still firmly on the ground
So I am the same despite my good news
But I am wearing much better shoes
A short poem about Feng Shui, which is the ancient Japanese art of ordering one's home and life to bring peace and harmony. The disharmony comes when you try reach agreement about how Feng Shui should be pronounced.
My Feng Shui man isn’t very happy
Unless the signs I have misread
But I don’t believe for a second
It’s anything that I have done or said
I think it’s the more likely that he
Got out of the wrong side of the bed
Health and Safety legislation is the great bug-bear of our age, but in Paul's poem we discover there is no need to draconian H&S measures if a dragon can do the trick just as effectively.
We keep a picture of Auntie Grace
On the shelf above the fire place
Health and safety is our only desire
As it keeps the kids away from the fire
A historical piece to conclude, in that few young things will have a clue what a video recorder is or does. However, those who struggled with early incarnation of video recorders will find that A Thing Possessed strikes an all too familiar chord.
My video recorder is on the blink.
The thing's possessed, I’m in no doubt.
It records the programs I don’t like
And plays them back when I go out.
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