IT SEEMS THE SCRAPHEAP IS FOR ME!

Well ladies I’ve been made redundant
Yet my skills are still abundant.
Now that I am 53
It seems the scrapheap is for me!

My role no longer is required
My talents all have been retired.
And yet my skills in life are vast
They’re now and real, not in the past.

I run a house, co-ordinate
Make sure that no-one’s ever late.
I churn out food all made from scratch
And pair the socks to make them match.

I do the ironing with panache
And make packed lunches in a flash.
I send them all to work and school
With stomachs full to give them fuel.

I act as taxi everywhere
Just running teens from here to there.
I do the shopping, plan the meals
Our house is run on well-oiled wheels.

And all of this while fighting flushes
Trying to make it look like blushes.
Battling weight around my middle
And the need to always piddle.

Dried out parts that once were moist
And pelvic floor that needs a hoist.
Hair that once was full and lush
But now is just a thinning bush.

And all of this while smiling freely
Pretending that it’s alright really.
Cleared away for sweet young things
Who still wear fanny pads with wings.

So any CEOs who need
A person who can take the lead.
To organise and juggle tasks
YOU REALLY ONLY HAVE TO ASK!

There once was a…

I’ve been a bit quiet on here recently because I’m in the middle of a limerick challenge over on my FB page. I asked followers if they’d like to offer their name to be used, and have had nearly 200!! I’m slowly working my way through them, posting one a day!

So I thought I’d share a few with you.

If you have a daft sense of humour, like poetry and aren’t easily offended you’ll like them. If not…just scroll on by lol!

Beach body ready? What a load of ****!

It’s June at last and summer’s here
My Body’s doing fine.
Not ‘ready’ for the beach I’m told,
But great for sun and wine!

Who told me how I need to look
When laid out on the beach?
Who said my bottom needs to be
Less melon and more peach?

And who said that bikinis were
The fashion for the young?
Is it because my stomach’s flopped,
And boobs aren’t tightly sprung?

I know I’ve got nice lines of blue
Around my legs so white.
And skin that flaps below my arms;
No longer toned and tight.

My body’s aged; it’s seen some life
It’s partied, danced, had fun.
And once a year the beach is where
I go to get some sun.

So no I won’t be at the gym,
And sweating doing weights.
I won’t be trying silly diets
Or shrinking down my plates.

I won’t be ripping out my hair
With tweezers or with wax.
From places where it’s meant to be –
In crevices and cracks.

I won’t be buffing up my skin
To get a sun-kissed glow.
I’m happy with the way it is,
Although it looks like dough!

I won’t be trying to change my thatch
With serums and with creams.
Or trying to get the swishy style
That features in my dreams.

I will however hit the beach
With joy and sass and style.
Accompanied by my family,
A cocktail and a smile!

 

What’s your view on being ‘beach body ready’?

 

Is this all worth it just to not be short?!

Why do women feel the need to walk on tottering heels?
It’s almost like we hate our feet, or that’s the way it feels.
Our body has a bonkers gait
It’s certainly no longer straight,
I’d rather have those shoes with little wheels!

There once was a…

I clearly love and enjoy writing poems, so now I’m trying my hand at limericks. Here’s my first one (friends have already asked if it’s autobiographical…😳 🤣)

Choose Your Knickers Ladies!

Let’s talk about our knickers girls,
I really think we should.
We’ll cover all the different types:
The ugly, bad and good.

We’ll start with silly scraps of lace,
That look more like a doyly.
The sort that’s meant to tantalise,
When taken off so slowly.
You know the ones; they itch like mad –
All frilly bits and bows.
Leave them where they do less harm –
In shops, arranged in rows.

I’m NEVER drinking AGAIN! (Until the next time…)

I go out for a little drink,
And come back home flushed slightly pink.
I spend the next day ill in bed,
With tummy ache and pounding head!

I stagger round – a shade of green,
Being smirked at by the righteous teen.
Pretending that it’s just a bug,
Whilst clinging to my coffee mug.

Will someone kindly tell me please,
Why drinking brings me to my knees?
And why that now I’m 50 plus,
My body has become a wuss?

This midlife nonsense is a curse,
This new intolerance the worst.
It seems that now I’m middle-aged,
My coping gene has disengaged!

Dry hair, hot flushes, bulging waist,
And in my mouth a funny taste.
I need some respite don’t you think?
FOR GOD’S SAKE LET ME HAVE A DRINK!!

Merry Fa La La-ing Christmas!

In an unscheduled break from my elves, I’ve come over all poetic again!

Sing this out loud to the tune – you know you want to!

Deck the halls with boughs of holly
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Stressed out mum’s not feeling jolly
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Grumpy teens won’t put their phones down
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Dad’s about to have a meltdown
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Get the cat out of the tree
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Give poor mum a gin – or three
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Aunt Joan’s farting like a trooper
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Dad’s now in a drunken stupor
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Sprouts are soggy, turkey’s chewy
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Gravy’s lumpy, mash is gluey
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Carrots welded to the roaster
Fa la la la la la la la la la!
Who shoved parsnips in the toaster?
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Little Timmy’s nose is pouring
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Bread sauce spilt has ruined the flooring
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Pigs in blankets burnt and crispy
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Cousin Mabel’s found the whiskey
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Christmas pudding’s soaked in brandy
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Toddler’s sick from eating candy
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Uncle Norman’s started swearing
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Can’t believe what Aunt Vi’s wearing
Fa la la la la la la la la!

She’s proclaimed she is a singer
Fa la la la la la la la la!
But she looks more like a swinger
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Grandad’s getting drunk and lairy
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Gran’s false teeth are on the fairy
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Legs being humped by naughty Rover
Fa la la la la la la la la!
Mum’s pretending to be sober
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Looking round at all the faces
Fa la la la la la la la la la!
Loving kisses and embraces
Fa la la la la la la la la!

Family’s what makes Christmas dear
Fa la la la la la la la la!
At SOMEONE ELSE’S please, next year!
FA LA LA LA LAA…. LA LA LA L’AARRGH!!

Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin!

Here’s the second poem I’ve written from my poetry challenge. The topic suggested was ‘prickly facial hair’ from Kooky Chic

Enjoy!

Please tell me why in middle-age
My hairs have reached a bonkers stage?
The ones up top are falling out,
From stranger places they now sprout.

Murder on the Dancefloor!

Here’s the first poem I’ve written inspired by my poetry challenge. Someone over on Facebook suggested the idea, ‘Dancing like no-one is looking, then noticing that they ALL are!’

I went out drinking with a friend,
We both knew how the night would end.
Laughter, fun and raucous dancing,
Stopping life from fast advancing.

Dressed in heels and make-up on,
Our fear and inhibitions gone.
We ate a meal – how civilised,
Excitement only just disguised.

A cocktail first and then one more,
We headed off towards the door.
Towards the club where deep within,
Our fantasy would soon begin.