Showing posts with label PJ. Murphy poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PJ. Murphy poems. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 01, 2020

Some Limericks

A Selection of Limericks     P.J. Murphy

"NUTS"
======














The squirrel's an odd little chappie
He's normally placid and happy
But, no if's and but's
Put your hand on his nuts
And he'll riddle your ass pretty snappy

He's usually spotted in trees
Which he climbs with the greatest of ease
You think he looks cute
'Till he takes aim to shoot
And you suddenly find you've no knees

A stroll in the woods can be pleasant
Watching rabbit and peacock and pheasant
But you really should worry
Get out in a hurry
'Cos the squirrel's attacks are incessant

To conclude, if with woodland you're charmed
I suggest that you should be alarmed
Though you feel no foreboding
The bugger's reloading
Watch out - those damn squirrels are armed!


LIMERICK JUNCTION
=================

I knew a girl from Tipperary
Who's legs were incredibly hairy
The hairs grew in size
from her toes to her thighs
After that, it was just bloody scary...


WHERE'S FIFI?
============

















A corpulant woman from Delhi
Had a body that quivered like jelly
From her couch she stood up
And her poor little pup
Had got lost in the folds of her belly

A lady who hailed from Madras
Was a really voluptuous lass
She's searched for her pet
But with no success yet
'Cause he's wedged in the crack of her ass

A voluptuous girl from Kirkut
was distraught at the loss of her mutt
Her search was in vain
The poor dog was in pain
He was trapped in the cleft of her butt

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: This was an entry for an AllPoetry contest, where the image was the contest prompt, and won the Gold Trophy for First Place in the contest

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




POT NOODLE
==========
I once fed the family poodle
With some leftover stale apple strudel
The dog promptly shat
and the texture of that
Was exactly like Chicken Pot Noodle....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~



DES MOINES
==========

I hope you'll enjoy this short ditty
Of a girl who was potless but pretty
She does end up rich
From becoming a bitch
Which was really a terrible pity

The tale's of a girl from Des Moines
Who hadn't a note or a coin
She took to the streets
Meeting sailors from fleets
And now her bank balance is 'foine'

With her ill-gotten gains she felt plucky
so she bought a stud farm in Kentucky
The horses, she reckoned
would come first, or second
- and she'd still get a ride, if she's lucky.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

S'NO JOKE...
==========
















It may have been foolish to go
Mow the lawn in a downpour of snow
As well as the grass
I cut half of my ass,
An elbow, two shins and a toe

~~~~~~~~~~


TIMING?
=======

I'm really obsessed about rhyming
Writing words that are pealing and chiming
So a ditty like this
Is a real piece-of-piss
.. so long as I stay completely focussed and concentrate on my timing.......


~








Raw Talent
========

I gave it my very best shot
- got all of the stuff in the pot.
Peppered and salted it
It's not my fault that
the cooking's the bit I forgot...

Wednesday, May 08, 2019

Steerage

 










Steerage      P. J. Murphy


Sailing seas of sideroad sedge

Far from vast tarry ocean

Avast ye denizens of hedge

Beware this cyclic motion


I steer my vessel on it's course

( with checks to port and starboard )

Yell at the sea-cows, till I'm hoarse

This boat must reach it's harbour


Full steam ahead, the coast is clear

All Doldrums navigated

The boat's bell sounds for all to hear

The Captain is awaited.


Now journey's ended, clipper docked

Captain disembarking

Another pleasant voyage clocked,

No pile-ups, tolls or parking...



Sunday, October 23, 2005

The moving finger writes...

( Containing a line from Theodore Roethke )
I have tried to write my life's story
dynamically, as it unfolds
from early childhood memories
Warm and cossetted, cold and scared
through aching adolescence
with hopes and dreams
First loves, lifelong friends
and shatterred illusions
then adult years, struggles and drudgery
joys of true love, new adventures
Unbounded miracles of fatherhood
with all of it's accompanying terrors

A work-in-progress, no rush to final chapter
I hope for many pages yet to flow
but "I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils"
No editorial control on these flowing lines
but pushed by unseen force to write this chronicle
with no eraser, no choice to reconstruct
events a Cosmic Author has prescribed
And as the graphite, piece by piece is broken
and the pencil pared to useless stub
I know the inevitable hour will come
A new pencil sharpened for a new page
Another narrative, another voyage

( Entered for a 'Stolen Lines' contest )

(c) P.J. Murphy, 2005