Silly Poems

attraction

by Andy Curtis

I can't believe how attractive you are.
From the outset, we just clung together
Like reunited lovers
There's always such a buzz when you're around
And what's that aroma?
It's strangely familiar.

You hold me - tighter, if anything,
And I simply can't let go.
You make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up
You make all the other ones stand up too
And you're hot - so amazingly hot!
I can't even manage to ask for what I really want -
Like, for the electric to be switched off.

Josie's Knickers

by Andy Curtis

Josie's knickers are full of piss
I wouldn't normally tell you this
But the stain is spreading large and wide
And I'm not convinced it will stay inside.

Oops, now it's there for all to see
Slowly seeping towards her knee
Trickling downwards more and more
I fear it's almost reached the floor

All muscle control is now long gone
And the gushing flow goes on and on
The pool has now become a lake
Josie STOP for goodness sake!

Josie's face is as red as blood
Things haven't gone quite how they should
But the crisis point is safely past
And clean dry pants are in place at last.

ode to someone who is probably quite nice, but who is not really my cup of tea in all honesty

by Liz and Andy Curtis

I laugh when I fart,
But, joking apart,
You don't.

archaeology

by Guest Author Stephen Cree who emailed the site.

Catch Stephen's site - soon be to online HERE.

Now, on with the poem:

I don’t dig archaeology
DIY’s how I get my thrills
You knob around with a trowel
and I salivate over drills.
You rabbit on incessantly
‘bout Romans and Vindolanda
and the only reason I’m still stood here
is I’d quite like to borrow your sander.

24500012

by Andy Curtis

For the worlds silliest number
I earnestly  delve
Back comes the answer
Twenty four and a half million
And twelve

big issues

by Liz Marshall

Decorators have paint issues
With dribbles, drips and sploshes
They could just work with bare feet
Or maybe wear galoshes

There’s some of you have hand issues
They keep on getting dirty
They’ll shrink if you keep washing them
And make your feet all hurty.

In bogs beware of mud issues
It’s squelchy, wet and smelly
Take them off outside the house
Or better, wear your wellies

If you have some pant issues
And you walk out of the door
They’ll stay down round your ankles
Because shoes stay on the floor

aging

by Liz Marshall, Jo Webster-Green & Andy Curtis

With aging the belly gets flabby
It wobbles where once it was tight
It sneakily bulges from clothing
And only lies dormant at night

With aging the bosoms get saggy
They elongate down to the waist
It's awful to see them descending
But great to find out how they taste

With aging the willy gets wrinkled
It shrivels and stops having fun
It takes so much longer to harden
And softens before it is done

With aging the mind becomes slower
And memories of all that is bad
Fade into blissful oblivion
So you kinda forget what you've had

andy is playing today

by Jason Thompson

Andy is playing today,
He’s sitting there now.
Choosing and using
And losing ideas that could be
Great. Or good anyway.

Andy is using the machines
Which make the sounds happen
In just the right place,
The best space.
That will, perhaps, some time soon
Stick a smile to a face.

Andy is listening now.
The key pressing over,
He sits and just listens to
The sound waves.
He waves back, and smiles.

the mumbling man

by Andy Curtis

The mumbling man mumbled at me again
This time I smelt his garlic scented breath
As he invaded my personal space
More mumbling, then a pause
How should I reply?
"Get out of my face, mumbling man.
Bye"

transfixed

by Andy Curtis

When never before is, once more
There she is
Realising the hope of yesterday
Subduing tommorow's fears
Living only in the present
- and with fantastic tits