A great title,
albeit a little punny,
and we are in September,
not May (when it was sunny),
And, also, as well,
I’m not sure if I can tell
what a kumquat is.
I think it might be a small orange…
… something.
.
So, here is day two;
the second day of seven,
you can do the math.
.
And what has happened?
I mean, have there been changes?
Or is all the same?
.
Never mind all that,
let us continue to write:
seven more haiku.
.
I know, ‘Senryu!’
There’s not a large difference,
just a state of style.
.
Humorous poems,
where there’s a lightness of touch,
and maybe a pun.
.
Not that puns matter –
hash-tag puns matter I write,
because I do care.
.
And seven now done;
and what have we achieved here …
remains to be seen.
.
.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #poetry. #poem, #Puns, #PunsMatter, #Senryu, #SevenHaikuADay, Haiku
Why do herds
suddenly appear…?
Maybe it’s because you’re a farmer carrying a large bale of… hey!
What?
Those cows.
Yes?
They’re herding this way.
Ah! I see, you are a punster.
Yes, and the name farmer is derived from the old ‘Fermor’ which meant tax-collector.?
But, my name is not Farmer it’s Doug. And I have a shovel.
“Clang!”
Touché, Doug.
That’s Mr. Doug, to you.
Touché, Mr. Doug.
Précisément!
The Chickens arrived at the chicken check-in twenty minutes early. Their bags were weighed and soon passed out of sight along the baggage conveyor belt, and the Chickens’ passports and paperwork were checked.
“A walking holiday in Rhodes?” asked the check-in operative.
“Yes.” clucked Papa Chicken. “We intend to cross Rhodes… although we don’t really know why we need to, it seems to be a thing on our Chicken Bucket List.”
Posted in Poetry
Tagged #Chickens, #CrossingRhodes, #CrossingRoads, #Puns, #silly, #Why
The Bank Vole was planning a robbery…
which is not as surprising as it sounds.
As a young vole, he had been into athletics and almost made the England Minimalympic team in the Vole Vault, only missing out by a height of 2cms in the final qualifying round.
Anyway, he had decided to break into the vault at the local bank, due to coming upon hard times and suffering from a down-turn in the stocks and shares that he had accumulated in Associated Similes, Metaphors, and the Like.
The man took offence to my saying that he had a strange gait. He punched me on the nose, then strode off with the fence under one arm, and the strange gate under the other.
Sweaty Betty was upon the settee;
and that Sweaty Betty was me.
I’m not a yeti –
at least not yetty;
can sometimes be profound
upon a jetty;
like eating pasta –
if I can spaghetti any;
and am not at all rich in money
like the man they called Getty.
Never in the navy
so not an officer, petty
or otherwise;
and I have never named one of my caress Hetty – why would I?
I don’t know, I forgetty!
I long to duetty with a fine opera singer,
as long as she is the cousin of Mario Andretti – is that likely?
You betty!
I shall stop now,
all this rhyming
is making me weak
C’est la vie – nil regretty!
I want to buy some tartan custard
some tartan custard for ma tea
but the only kind they have is yellow
and that’s no good for me.
 | Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
 | Words from a Lentil… on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Words from a Lentil… on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
| Cynthia Praski on SoCS – Tape – #4… |
Graeme Sandford 