Friday, 31 July 2015

What the werewolf wears by Grant Harbison

Wolf de Lewd was a manly dude with incredibly large teeth
But Riding Hood truly understood what actually lay underneath
Since that time she’d found him in her bed
With her flannel gown and bonnet on his head
“Wolf,” she’d cried. “I’m utterly surprised. I never knew that would tickle your fancy.”
“Yes, my dear Riding; there’s no point in hiding. I’m Wolf during the day and at night I am Nancy.”
“The look is very fetching, I must admit. But we need to spice it up a teeny little bit.”
His eyes had lit up and his teeth had begun to grind. “Tell me my dear, what do you have in mind?”
“Lingerie, stockings and some very high heels. There’s a sale going on at Decadent Deals. “
Wolf had smiled and salivated at the lustful scene his mind contemplated.
“Well, what do you think?” Riding had asked and given him a wink.
“I’m so excited I cannot wait. Let us leave now, it’s not too late.”
“Yes, but first there is something you have to understand. I now wear the trousers; I’m in command. And if you decide to give me any lip, you’ll vent my wrath and I’ll bring out my whip.”
Wolf had looked at Riding with eyes full of fear. “I’ll be a good boy; I promise, my dear.”   

Wednesday, 29 July 2015

The mollusc and the mole by Grant Harbison

His main ambition was to be a troll
But he never quite reached his goal
The best he could achieve was a mollusc mould
Of garden variety scold
It was a failure that left him with a chip on his shell
And a tempestuous temperament that none could quell
But in his grassy domain he did reign
And his only concern was for his own gain
With tyrannous terror and exploitation
He quashed the hopes of the population
Fuelled their anxiety and frustration
And ignited hatred in the garden nation
So it was hardly surprising
That his oppression would lead to a huge uprising
But his biggest surprise
Was one that happened before his demise
When he learned that their leader was one of his spies
His favourite mole
Infiltrator and slayer of the wannabe troll

Monday, 27 July 2015

Contrary Mary by Grant Harbison

If you knew Mary like I knew Mary
Before she took up whoring on the prairie
Then you’d know that the old Mary was quite contrary
And folks for miles were extremely wary
Mary was a recluse who lived with a canary
In a ramshackle dwelling that was extremely airy
With a garden that looked rather scary
There were no silver bells or cockleshells
Nor pretty maids in a row
The place was a shambles and apart from the brambles
Nothing else would ever grow
Although she had visitors now and then
They were usually from the church and never men
Men were wary of Mary
As she was the largest girl on the prairie
And none were prepared to nestle
With a girl who could beat them in an arm wrestle
But before I get too boring
Let me tell you why Mary went whoring
An outsider arrived one day in May
Who admired her beauty and offered to pay
Mary was shy and didn’t know what to say
But the whole experience blew her away
And that was the start of it all
From decency Mary did fall
Mary is now popular
She’s everyone’s honey
And she loves the attention and all of that money 

Saturday, 25 July 2015

The boastful bard by Grant Harbison

If words are a poet’s tool
Then Billy Bull’s tool is humungous to say the least
Wordy wise
With a vocabulary of incredible size
His poems are perfectly pieced
A wordsmith wizard
Billy excels
He’s poetically profound
Without doggerels
But Billy has swagger
He’s a perpetual bragger
Who persistently proclaims he’s the best
Billy the bard
He’s a bit of a card
And none would ever contest
Condescending and rude
He’s one to elude
The pedantic poetry pest

Thursday, 23 July 2015

So fool to try and pull a bull by Grant Harbison

Boris the bull looked on in confusion
And turned a crimson shade
When the short-sighted milkmaid held his protrusion
And caused it to stand on parade
It caused Camilla the cow to kick up a fuss
“You stupid bitch!” she cried. “He’s not one of us!”
The maid stepped back and let out a rude exclamation
Leaving poor Boris to cry out in frustration
Exasperated at the sudden spurn
Just before he reached the point of no return 
The cows stamped their hooves and chortled with glee
When the milkmaid stumbled as she started to flee
But Boris wasn’t laughing and looked on mortified
The humiliation of rejection was a dent in his pride
“Oh Boris,” cried Camilla. “You mustn’t gripe. You’d be fool to think that you are her type.”   
“Camilla, you are cruel and deserving of scorn. It was the one and only time I’ve been gripped by the horn.”

Tuesday, 21 July 2015

Rogues of yesterday and the pond scum of today by Grant Harbison

“Stand and deliver, the money or your life!” the highwaymen used to cry.
And they’d only take your life if you dared to defy
Refuse to hand over and you were a goner
But part with your possessions and their word was honour
They targeted the rich and they only sought to rob
Not like today’s lot
Despicable yobs
Crime pays more than a full time job
No remorse and no concept of honour
“It was the thrill of the kill and the power, Your Honour.”
Words that sicken
Words that chill
We’ve had enough
We’ve had our fill
It’s time for justice and laws we once held dear
We cannot live life in absolute fear
The answer to the problem lies with you
Do we keep on pussyfooting or do we go kangaroo ?

Sunday, 19 July 2015

Colin the camel had the hump by Grant Harbison

Colin the camel took a sedative pill
It wasn’t because he was particularly Ill
His heart was broken and he was down in the dumps
Since his girlfriend had left him for a guy with two humps
Left him feeling incomplete
For with two humped camels he could never compete 
She was the one he’d hoped to marry
But alas it wasn’t to be for the poor dromedary
The unexpected departure dashed his hopes
And he wanders the desert and perpetually mopes
Wondering why his life continues to slump
Silently wishing he had more than one hump 

Message to all who view my blog

Due to internet problems, I haven’t been able to post for almost a week. My apologies and thank you for viewing. Much appreciated  

Tuesday, 14 July 2015

Lady Love and Tobias Dove by Grant Harbison

“Oh, Lady Love, where is my glove? cried the anxious gardener, Tobias Dove.
“Check under the bed,” she said. “If my husband finds it, he’ll shoot you dead.”
“It’s not there,” he said as he got down on his knees. “Help me look, help me, please!”
“Check under the cover, my lover, we have little time to spare. I must get dressed and fix up my hair.”
Tobias frowned and began to moan. “You can’t leave me to search all on my own.”
“I can’t meet my husband looking like this. If I’m not properly dressed he’ll know something’s amiss.”
Tobias eyed her with acute despair. “Sometimes I wish we’d never started this affair.”
“If you think you can end this you’re sadly mistaken. I’m the Lady of the manor and I won’t be forsaken.”
“But I’m tired of being a lover for hire. Isn’t there someone else who can satisfy you desire?”
“Lord Love? Heavens above! The silly sot’s shrimp is permanently limp.”
Suddenly he spotted the glove and let out a triumphant cry. “I don’t believe it; it was right before my eye.”
“Good, now come and join me in the shower. My husband shall be home before the hour. After that you can tend to the flowers. Oh, and before forget. I’ve told a good friend about my wonderful pet. She is dying to meet you and shall pay a large fee. You’ll simply love Lady Chatterley.”  

Treasure pleasure by Grant Harbison

“There’s always pressure, but it’s always a pleasure to find some treasure!” exclaimed Silver the pirate.
“We better find soon, ‘cause we’re bleedin’ well skint!” screeched Flint, exceedingly irate.
“Hush, damn parrot, or I’ll take you on deck, pull out your feathers and wring your scrawny neck.”
Flint eyed Silver with his beady little eyes. “Try somethin’ like that an’ ye’ll lose yer mince pies.
“Any more cheek from yer belligerent little beak an’ I’ll have ye confined and flogged for a week. Now come o’er here an’ lend me yer ear. There’s somethin’ ye need to hear.”
Flint stepped onto Silver’s shoulder. “What do ye want me to hear, ya cranky old soldier?”
“I need yer eyes an’ ears for a bit o’ scrutiny. I’ve heard there’s been talk, talk of mutiny.”
“Give me a good reason to find yer treason. We’re hungry and penniless an’ far out to sea. What could there possibly be in it for me?”
“Very soon we’ll be reachin’ shore an’ I promise that ye’ll have fortunes galore. But the others will get greedy and our share will be less, unless I can force some to confess.”     
“As long as yer offerin’ me a carrot, then rest assured I’ll be a vigilant parrot. But how do ye know we’re approachin’ land? And how do ye know of this treasure? I don’t understand.”
“Flint, let me do what I do best. The wind has changed and we’re heading west. Yer eyes will soon be feasting on that large treasure chest.”
“Land, land ahoy!” yelled Jim Hawkins, the cabin boy.   
Silver laughed at Flint as he started to twitch. “Come, my feathered friend, let’s go and get rich.” 

Thursday, 9 July 2015

The kiss by Grant Harbison

Beleaguered and crabbit
Can become habit
Another one of those days
Delicate dispositions
And nonsensical frays
Atones as the day goes by
Shouts to a sigh
Ambience good
Healing hearts mend the moods
And just like nothing was amiss
Forgiveness came from a single kiss

Wednesday, 8 July 2015

The tale of a slug and a snail

“Oh sublime, my dear!” praised Cynthia Snail. “You do it every year!”
“Yes, I’m truly the best,” bragged Slimy Slug. “There is simply no contest.”
“Don’t look so smug, Slug!” cried Cedric Snail. “You wouldn’t do so well if you had a shell.”
“Oh Cedric, you’re just jealous because you lost the race,” said Cynthia. “You were utterly outclassed and beaten for pace.”
“Jealousy indeed,” mocked Slimy. “Because I have the stamina and I have the speed.”
“One of these years you will fail,” Cedric retorted. “And the annual race will be won by a snail.”
“Not even when I’m old and grey,” Slimy scoffed. “It will never happen, there’s just no way.”
“One day I’ll be the winner, I’ll be the one,” said Cedric. “You’ll get sluggish, if you’ll excuse the pun.”
“Only then will you deserve praise,” said Slimy. “But you’ll never make it around the garden in ninety six days.”      

Sunday, 5 July 2015

A dress for success by Grant Harbison

“Alas,” cried she from her place on her knees. “Why can’t it ever be me?”
“Because you were born to blister,” replied Christa, her twisted sister.
“Just once I’d like to have the chance to dance, drink champagne and find romance.”
“Oh, wretched Ella,” said the horrid sister, Bella. “What chance would you have of finding a fella?”
The callous remark caused Ella to frown. “Perhaps if I had a beautiful gown.”
“You have the gall to think you can go to the ball, my ragged little sister?” said Christa. “Never in your life will that befall, as no gentleman will ever come to call. So sulk beside the cinders, little Ella. The only ones attending the ball will be I and beautiful Bella.”
“I shall go to the ball, wait and see. And the main attraction shall be me.”
Bella laughed at Ella’s declaration. “Do you honestly think that you can rise above your station?”
“I’ll find a way, I’ll find a dress. I’ll be the belle of the ball and by far the best dressed. Even the charming prince will be impressed.”
“Oh Ella,” said Bella. “It seems like your falling apart at the seams. Another one of your preposterous dreams?”
“A dream nonetheless, but very soon I’ll be a princess.”  

Friday, 3 July 2015

Picture imperfect by Grant Harbison

“Say cheese,” the photographer said to Pollinosi Fever before she started to sneeze.
“Floral dust!” she cried with mounting despair before another explosive expulsion of air.
“Hey, Fever!” the photographer cried in dismay. “I need to get this shot. I haven’t got all day.”
“It’s the particles in the breeze and the bloody bees!” she retorted, sneezed once more and loudly snorted.
“I can’t have you looking like that in the latest issue. Clean yourself up,” he said and handed her a tissue.
“This damn dust is ruining my career!” she wailed and wiped away a tear. “I truly detest this time of year!”
“If I don’t get a picture in five minutes flat, I’ll find a replacement and that will be that!”
“Then shove your camera where the sun doesn’t shine. You’re nothing but a whinging irritating swine!”

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

Charlotte Ann and the gullible man by Grant Harbison

“Tell me gypsy woman,” said pushover Paul. “What do you see in your crystal ball?”
Charlotte Ann gazed into the ball. “I see fame and fortune. A large windfall.”
“How grand,” he said and clapped his hands. “How soon will it come and what will be the sum?”
“Soon. You will be a very rich man before the next full moon. But your fortune will come at a price. Your wealth will require a significant sacrifice.”
“What sacrifice will suffice?” he asked. “Could you be more precise?”
“Your current wealth I will need to curse before you receive your future purse. All that you have you will have to bring to me. Consider it a token. A gratitude fee.”
“Gypsy woman, I respectfully thank. I will remove all the funds that I have in the bank.”  
“Go now, don’t delay. Your reward will be larger if you come back today.”
“My dear woman, I’ll be back in a flash. There’ll be plenty of time to curse that cash.”
Charlotte Ann
A gypsy with a plan
Chortled with glee as soon as he ran
Charlotte Ann