A View From My Point

Archive for the ‘Silly Poems’ Category

A Silly Poem about The Luxury Of Being Horrified

You know the feeling when you just can’t look away

how you know you should open your mouth and just say

‘I can’t believe your drive around with your kid on the front seat’

‘How do you live in a house that isn’t neat’

‘What were you thinking when you chopped down that tree’

‘How could you not even think about me?’

‘Didn’t you care when your toddler tore up that book?’

Some things deserve a second look

Maybe the people who drive around with their kids on the dash

don’t have a decent car, they simply don’t have the cash

Or the woman who doesn’t get to tidy her house

is working double shift and her husband is a louse

The people that don’t follow the green house effect

Maybe they’re not in the income group and have to call collect

If a kid destroyed something valuable to you

take a step back before you pooh pooh

That parent could be exhausted from shouting

maybe the only way the offspring get attention is through pouting

It’s not for us to say

or to comment on the way

other people live their lives

so what if they wanna mix it up and have 8 wives

It’s just another story that someone has to tell

drop me a line when you decide who goes to hell

because that makes you the one with all the power

but sure doesn’t do anything for you looks, quite frankly it makes you look sour

So lets build a bridge and actually give a shit

it’ll make it easier for us all to Get Over It.



take a big green bite
it’s fresh, crisp, juicy and white
whittled down with teeth

A Silly Poem For Arsenic Hour

My darling children, from when you wake up

I take a sip from my steaming cup

Countdown begins to and Hour that will come

the seconds beat within my heart like a drum

the time of the day that I’ve learnt to dread

it makes the blood thunder in my head

Arsenic Hour

No one has power

A time for all Seasons

this Insanity has no reasons

From playing well together at around 3 pm

the crescendo is slow and it builds like REM

it doesn’t start with any particular note

perhaps it’s from one swirling dust mote

“It’s MINE!’ is the most oft repeated refrain

and I’m sure we’ll hear it again

and then it swiftly escalates to a blow

the thump on flesh where a bruise will show

whether you’re knocking each other with soft toys

or fighting about which one belongs to the boys

It’s upon us, this new Hour, we’ve reached Destination

(one that didn’t exist in my previous incarnation)

Through all your screaming and your tears

I’ve realized one of life’s greatest fears:

There is no one else I would pay

to see you this way.

The thin veneer of human I’ve managed to paste

over the crazy animal you are, is not a waste

as Time marches on I know you will learn

the voice that I use can be described as ‘stern’

and your little bums will be on fire

I am a Wooden Spoon for hire

Yes! That’s the anecdote to your poison

‘an eye for an eye’ we can all get our noise on!

My name is Mommy, hear me roar!

Feel my wrath! It’s gonna be sore!

Tuck you in, I will, like a robot be

I want to love you again tomorrow, don’t make me count to three.

A Silly Poem for Not Always Being Able to Live In Cyber Space

as the days go flitting by

and I do the things I do and sometimes have a braai

I have the best of intentions

to jot down some mentions

of things that simply need to be documented

or maybe something that’s driving me demented

but then there’s just one more swim in the river

another glass of red to save my liver

or one has to put a band aid on a scraped knee

while listening to plea for tea

it’s not all moonshine and roses

that keep me away from my proses

there’s my job and it’s folk

there’s the laundry, an eternal yoke

extra curriculars eat up my constant time

and it’s not easy to always come up with a rhyme

truly I wish for more hours in this life

I wish for a slave as a wife

but mostly it all just gets stored

so that I might never have to mutter, ‘I am bored’


A Silly Poem for Tittle Tales

The following poem is based on a conversation with The Eldest – I kid you not.


How I love to hear stories from all over the garden

things that so and so did and whoever didn’t say ‘Pardon’

So that one did that did they?

Well now, “What did you say?’

You’re kidding me, that can’t be true!

You must be pulling the one with bells on; it’s gone skew

Are you sure you have all the facts

these stories you postulate seem like complete random acts

A dwarf? Stole a lawnmower? From the Headmasters office?

It’s not possible, perhaps it was Chuck Norris

A child, disguised as a dwarf, now that makes perfect sense

for a moment there you had me all tense.

He keeps the lawmower there because it’s happened before?

to move it in and out for general use must be quite a chore.

In the meantime; ‘what happened to your pencil case?’

It was stolen? While you were having and egg and spoon race?

I better have a word with your teacher, she’ll know what’s behind all this!

Oh you were joking, you crack me up, living with you is a special kind of bliss.

And besides Ma’am’s in love with Mr Nel?

You know if you fib like this you’re going straight to Hell.

No, you’re right, you probably won’t fit in

since it’s quite clear that you are your Mother’s own saintly story telling kin.




rotting wet dog with

regurgitated sticky

black berries. milkwood

A Silly Poem for Skêr

Many many moons ago

when we were young and the days would flow

from one art class into the next

who would have thought you’d see this in text

Happy Birthday Dear Old Scissor

don’t I wish I could hold up a mirror

to show you all the things I’ve thought

since we left school in year nought

How often I’ve thought of your cartoons

the way you’d draw constantly, not only pictures of spoons

but of people, the sea and lots of building crowded streets

plenty of boots, fruits and tables draped in sheets

with a line and shade you’d quickly represent

I always thought the way you did ‘white’ was an extreme talent

And now here we are with distance, time and life

between all these birthdays, lots of good and some strife

it’s good to be able to connect her in Cyberspace

to monitor you as you run to prepare for some race

So here’s a Special Wish to commemorate

all the years of Birthday Cake you have ate!

Many Many Happy Returns Of the Day

Hope you’ve made some good memories, got a chance to play

sat back and drank whatever poison you imbibe

and didn’t have to put up with any ‘you’re-too-skinny’ jibe

I’m sure you were showered with hugs and kisses from Matt

and now it’s time to keep smiling for another year of this and that.

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: