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Pea and Honey Recipes
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I Eat My Peas With Honey
And tales of derring-do.
Four lines, they can be rhyming
(That's Glow Worms to me and you).
Ending line is as usual.
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Footnote 1: @Darren Yes, I did see what you did there
Footnote 2: @Software Apologies for taking that liberty with your line
Footnote 3: "rant" (Scots dialect, stretching usage just a bit) = merry, wild
[CdM] Yeah, as soon as I posted it I realised I'd screwed up the poem. It would have been better to try for it on line 4. Still, onwards and upwards.

The answer to this anagram
O what's a reet rant mashing?...
What that means is anger or
Awesome tartan thrashing
Now there's class.

I wish I had a snooker cue

I'd pot a ball or two ... admirable work on last one, Darren and CdM :-)
For those watching in black and white
I'll pot the pink, then blue.
I wish my head was screwed on right
Alas, it's set askew
So please ignore my curious stance
On quitting the EU
I wish you'd stop your robbing banks
For making themselves rich
And why am I still firing blanks?
My snip still needs a stitch (A merciful seeing off, sorry Chalks)
Thanks pen - was wondering how to 'do the double' and get rid of the darned thing myself ..
I wish my current deadline
Was twenty weeks away
But sadly I am overdue
From the 21st last May
I wish I were just virtual
Instead of flesh and bone
I'd feed off Apple- Macintosh
And leave the cakes alone Funny how the line comes to you after five days or so...
I wish I mashed potatoes
The way my mother did
Some subtle twisting of the wrist
Then mix in puréed squid
I wish that I lived closer
to Kingston-upon-Hull
Right now I live near Worcester
Where life's just dross and dull
Oh how I wish this Valentine
That I were wed, not single
When I am 80 who will care
To share my final Pringle?
... Because, when all the chips are down [Darren} Nice.
You know who you can trust
Not gold, nor crown, nor any thing
But you can rely on lust.
I wish it weren't leap year
Have to work an extra day
To make it worse, it's New Year's Eve,
At least that's months away apologies for the double entry, couldn't pass it up
It takes a leap of faith
To cross the gorge of doubt
Or so the parson saith
To prove one is devout
I wish it weren't so quiet
I really, really do
For if I could hear a whisper
I may just talk to you
I wish to make a statement
That's short and bold and true
....: There will be an abatement
While I am on the loo sorrysorrysorry
While sitting in the smallest room
I think my largest thoughts
And sometimes I might fall asleep
Enthroned on chamberpots
The thing with toilet humour
Is it's easy to pooh-pooh
The top reasons- numbers one and two
You first must use the loo
There wasn't any questioning
Of the first suspect in queue
The second, third, and fourth went by
But now we'll question you
I wish I were in Dixie
In past subjunctive mood
Meetin' y'all and eatin' grits
And other Southern food
Sing Glory Hallelujah!
And praise the Lord as well!
Then buckle on your Bible belt
This ark's rocking like hell.
And take the road to Hell
Drat simulpost, ah well ...

I'm reeling from the budget

I don't know how I'll pay
I guess I'll have to fudge it
And clear my debts some day.
This most delightful weather Can you really tell that I'm English?
Surely cannot last [pen] how about me, then?
The only question's whether
The storm comes slow or fast
In Spring, a young man's fancies
Are the same as Summmer's and Fall's
The Susies and Jennies and Nancies
Will just kick him in the balls ... coat! ..
At weekends I like lazing
With tea and chocolate biccs
Just sitting in my armchair
In a bra and lacy knicks Least said, soonest mended
... mended. [Made me chuckle, mind]
Chalky - I'd love to take a holiday
To Margate I shall go
With thermal vest and woolly socks
And bucketloads of dough ... sorry - greedy greedy me taking another line
Returning to the office,
He found his desk had gone
"The second time this week!" he thought
"Just what is going on?"
He went to see the Bureau Chief
Demanding explanation
Insisting that he catch the thief
Or tend his resignation.
The Bureau Chief was unimpressed
And quickly sent him packing
The office cleaner then confessed
She'd sent the desk for stacking
The cleaner hadn't realised
That desks were custom-built
Stacking, it could be surmised
Produced an ominous tilt
The Chief sought out this listing stack
And made a bold decision
Even though he knew his staff
Would meet it with derision
"We'll make a matching stack of chairs
Just there, beside the door
And when the workforce grows in size
They'll sit upon the floor."
*is almost afraid to add to the 6 stanzas above which appear to have auto[Raak]-completed with stark yet exquisite simplicity*
And as no-one else has waded in - shall we leave it as it is?
They'll all join hands and sing a song
Of how, in days gone by,
The desks were stacked, quite out of reach
And we'll all wonder why....
But suddenly the bottom desk
Slipped right out of line
The bureau chief was heard to shout,
"Stand back - that one is mine!"
And then, with a tremendous crash
(Preceded by a rumbling)
The pile of office fur-nit-ure
On his head came a-tumbling. - oops
The moral of our sorry tale
Will soon become quite clear
For stacking wobbly desks is fraught
With risk to one's career.
Thank God! The chief was only bruised
And bounced back with panache
He said "I'll sack the silly fool"
And sneered 'neath his moustache.
So what would be the cleaner's fate?
Would she just lose her rag?
No, this char is far too cool
And sneaks out for a fag.
But when she steps outside the door
The nasty boss is waiting
"How dare you stack those desks", he booms
With tone harsh and berating
The tangled heap of fallen desks
Lies just inside the door
The cleaner is defiant
She won't take it any more
"You can stick your desks," the cleaner cries
"Somewhere the sun don't shine"
"Like in the basement storage room"
"Where I must work from mine!" echoes of 'Office Space' here. I expect the next verse will be about TPS reports. Mmm-yeh.
The moral of our sorry tale
Is: sometimes rhymes persist
#stackgate was an #epicfail
I fear it won't be missed
I wish I had a cucumber
And fine sliced white bread too
I'd make the blandest sandwich
Then flush it down the loo.
I'm glad I'm using wholemeal bread
The white stuff's bland and sickly
This boring glow worm needs an end
Please someone do it QUICKLY!
Sorry RoseWare - 1 out of 10 on the interesting scale :)
Portmanteau words are all the rage
Where would brands be without them!
They're everywhere this day and age He started it, miss.
'Cos advertisers shout 'em
I must see my accountant!
The numbers make no sense!
They all appear to be in red
But for this fifty pence.
I wish I were a molecule
Something nice like AYTCH TOO OH
>b>Instead, I'm an electron
And my life is filled with woe.
The wily Questing Beast's afoot
So hide behind the sofa
And if it nears, just raise your boot
But not if it's a loafer.
God particles are hard to find
Without acceleration
But scientists of true heart and mind
Might use exaggeration
I wish I was a Boson-Higgs
E'er since I were a lass
I've always wanted much more weight
To look like like Mama Cass.
[J, P. S, R] I laughed out loud.
I'm glad I'm not a molecule
With too much dipole moment
I'm methane, constituent of farts Glad I'm not the only chemical anorak here.
That's the odorous component
I wish I were a microwave
From space at 3°
I'd get inside your woolly socks
And mutilate your knees
The gamma Higgs neutrinalo
Is mighty hard to find
It makes quick rounds, like a gigalo
And leaves no trace behind
I wish that I spoke physicist
I'm sure it's quite a lark
With acronyms and symbols
Based on the lighter quark*


*Forced ("Flavourful mesons are mesons made of pair of quark and antiquarks of different flavours. The rules are simpler in this case: the main symbol depends on the heavier quark, the superscript depends on the charge, and the subscript (if any) depends on the lighter quark.")
I've got bells that jingle jangle
On my one-horse sleigh Are we in the run-up to Christmas already?
They really get upon my tits
And think of the poor dray.
I wish that I was sozzled
Completely out my tree
Because I cannot bear to face
Enforced sobriety
I wish I weren't so flatulent
I'd have a lot more friends
'Cos my windy smelly ways
Some clearly are not even worth a mercy killing
I wish I could run really fast
Just like that West Indian sprinter
I'd always be first, not last
But my wooden leg would splinter
I wish I could swim really well
Through Heinz Tomato Soup
An Olympian vision of Hell
Backstrokes through crimson goop
Well, now the games are over
And life resumes its course
Get ready for the football
And prepare for a divorce.
I'm sleeping less than well [S,R,K,R] Very nice! Reminds me to be thankful Mrs Tuj and I share a sports addiction
I toss and turn all night Shut up at the back.
I need no waking bell
But then I'm less than bright
If I screw up my eyes and dangling preposition alert
Put on some glasses
This looks like a haiku. Sorry, but I just can't get the previous lines to scan as anything.
Created by asses.
[cfm] Superb last-minute addition. Have a crisp! In fact, have several.

The road outside is melting

To a treacly noisy goo
And now the rain is pelting [cdm] Well saved!
Right, God, I'm going to sue
The weather's not improving
It's staying much the same
There's not much else to talk about
Let's get back to the game.
I wish I were the Lord your God
And not have horns or tail
I'd give you all a healthy prod
To make you weep and wail.
I'm more inclined to devilment
Than angels on my shoulder
Hell's perfect for a barbeque
You'll be there when you're older.
I wonder if the ketchup's hot?
And if the chili's cold [SciR] Excellent.
And are the dogs room temperature
And free of worms and mould.
I wish I were a pearly king
And you a pearly queen
The world would be our oyster then
We're dressed in Crimplene
I wish I had a ticket
To Cleopatra's wedding
The guest list is to die for
The bride, though, is for bedding.
I wish someone had told me
To add some baking powder
My tater-cakes are flat and wet
I'm left with onion chowder sorry sorry sorry - but it's culinarily feasible.
I dropped my iPhone in the pond
It's crossed to cell phone Valhalla beyond
This sounds like a limerick
But we really should stick
To the Haiku of which we're all fond
let's restart:
I dropped my iPhone in the pond
To test the maker's claim
I urge you to do likewise
But I won't take any blame
I wish I had asked Siri
How to marinate pig's feet
To feed to my dear mother
And get her back in heat
The last three lines of this poem
(No, make that the last two)
Extoll both xylem and phloem
(In fact, one line will do)
Apologies for the double post
That last rhyme can't be beaten Oh... *swoons with being so impressed at the last one*
For such exotic flair
It's Heston to my Mrs Beeton
Such verbal skill is rare.
I wish I were a lady
Feminine and coy
Hidden texthaving an identity crisis, Phil?
Cuz lovely, lacy underthings
I can't wear as a boy. Hmm...
Be bold, tear up convention!
Ride roughshod thru' the rules
just throw caution to the wind
And bomb all public schools.
I wish I could be sexy
Without cosmetic ops
The fakes are never quite as good
Beneath those see-through tops
I wear my teddy with aplomb
Other fruits just will not do.
Not greengage, damson, mume or plum
Oh! Too many plums tha' noo!
i wish my apricots were prunes
All wrinkly, black and blue
They get things moving, so they say
Excuse me, where's the loo?
I Wish it weren't so windy
Around my nether parts
A kilt's a rather draughty thing
And helps disperse my farts. oblig.
The Feast of St. Narcissus [Rosie] I set 'em up...
Is a very sombre time
Staring into mirrors
Believing you're divine
My god, but I am awesome
In every single way
But most of all, I'm humble
Whatever people say.
I went to see the doctor
About my indigestion
He said I really oughter
Ask the cook that question.
I went to see the dentist
My gums were red and sore
So he extracted all my teeth
It cost a grand and more.
According to my therapist
I have to face my fears
To banish all my demons
I must kill Wackford Squeers.
I went for acupuncture
Got stung for fifty pounds
The puncturist was quite a prick
And stabbed me out of bounds
I wish my back was better
At lifting kegs of beer
My whistle would be wetter
We'd all have more to cheer. A sad tale
I wish I were an urban fox
Tattered, torn and haggard
Running free through dales and fells
Is not my scene you've gathered
I wish I were redundant
(At least from my employment) We need you. :-)
And with my mighty severance pay We hope
Whole seconds of enjoyment
I so wish it weren't Christmas
Well, it ain't. Not yet.
Ignore it; it'll go away
And you'll stay out of debt
I wish that I were wealthy
I'd chuck the job and go
And shag the arse off Polly Toynbee
Because I love her so
I've just forked out for winter tyres
For soon I will be going
To places where the snow is deep
And the Glühwein will be flowing :o)
New week, new rhyme - or so they say
Whoever they may be
Calliope and all the rest
Are good at poetree
I wish it weren't so frosty
Hidden textI don't really, I love it
My nose has fallen off
And as for other organs
I'm trying not to cough
I wonder if the Mayans
Had ever really thought
About those 'Best Before' dates
And bollocks nonsense of that sort.
The Mayans have predicted tempting fate
The world's about to end
And on the twentysecond
We'll all just spend, spend, spend. Well, why not?
It must be time for beer by now
Or mulled wine at the least
I've waited nearly half an hour
I am a thirsty beast.
Hurrah! The hols are almost here
And I've skived off already (I wish)
I've finished working for the year
And I'm reading Ferlinghetti
I wish I had spent Christmas Day
Working overtime for treble pay
Then with the money I'd defray
(Oops, I mistook this for a limerick.)
The cost of booze in Whitley Bay.
I have a wish for the coming year
It's really rather silly
That I should give up drinking beer
I'd rather lose my willy
I wish I were a Hobbit
With huge and hairy feet
Or p'raps Lorena Bobbit I've considered not playing that line, but I don't think that I should
With a penchant for sliced meat - Let's move swiftly on, while I cross my legs gingerly
I wish I were a cat's eye
I watch upon the road
For the erring motorist
Lest he by Death be mowed.
I wish I were a carrier bag
A proper one, not plastic
I'd bring home the bacon
Now isn't that fantastic?
I wish that Juliette Binoche
Was not mentioned in this ditty
Perhaps a nice recette brioche
Would make this verse more pretty?
The human epiglottis
(Like other epiglotts)
Tucked away behind the scene
To tie your voice in knots
I wish I were a haggis
That runs around the glen
I'd wait till Easter Monday
I'd be safe by then
I'd love to be a rocket
Leaving trails of sparks
Inside my lover's pocket
Lest the spouse do find the marks
I'd love to start a glow-worm
With these brand new jump leads
I'd write of things electric
And whate'er the rhyme scheme needs.
I wish I were a pussycat
With whiskers I would tickle
And flit around from home to home
My love being always fickle.
If I hadn't sent that letter
I would now be Mayor of Chard
If you want to do better
Don't let 'em mark your card
I wish my poems rhymed
Blank verse is so 'de trop*
And lyrics that I've mimed
Don't always scan I know
I wish I were a Brummie
Don't laugh. I really do.
My vowels aren't posh or plummy
But I'd do Shakespeare better'n you
[R, CdM, K, cfm] Splendid.
The windows all need cleaning
The kitchen floor's a mess
But such work's so demeaning
Go get your Mom, I guess
I love procrastinastion
I'll do some more tomorrow
But I'm gripped by vacillation
Have you time to borrow?
If I were an alarm clock
No doubt I'd be resented
But only by vague arty types
With lives unregimented .. had to be done
If I were a carpenter
I'd bang and thump and hammer
And sometimes acshly hit the nail
In the accepted manner
Pheer mai awsom3 h4cking skillz
Defy a wall; it crumbles
I'm not sure where this going
NOBODY expects the—
Oh, bugger.
I wish I were an organ pipe
A 32 foot beast
I'd tremble with the voice of God
My volume much increased
I wish I were a snowman
That's newly sprung in Spring
A pointy root veg for a nose
Another for my thing I believe it is customary to issue a request for an outer garment at this juncture.
I wish I were a mousetrap
With Edam I'd be primed [CdM]
Hidden textExactly the four words I decided not to post, as there's too much Philth in this world already ;-)
A little mouse of Amsterdam
His hunger so mistimed.
Hidden text(Phil) No there isn't.
I'm glad I'm not a milkman
Out in't snow and dark Boreal usage scansion imperative claim.
Slipping on an icy path
Sod that for a lark
[K, R, S, C] Excellent!
Another job I wouldn't do
Is much involved with lobsters
I'd rather take a blood oath
And join a gang of mobsters.
The worst job that I ever had [Rosie?]
Turned both my elbows green
Collecting cat poo was my lot (Kim) I seem to have jumped the gun.
While dressed up like a queen
While working for Jayne Mansfield
I lost a lot of weight
Yanking all those lobsters oblig.
Out of her 'tailgate' What Rosie said
*chuckles*
I wish I were a golf club
Gripped firmly with a glove
I'd swing and swing the wrong way
And hit heads from above.
I'm glad I'm not an Easter Egg
With spring-like obsolescence
Consumed with avaricious haste
I reek now of its essence. ie I'm covered in chocolate
I took a pee while I was doing that. Sorry.
An 'oenelope' is someone who runs off with the wine.
Us isobars are all quite close
We're cooking up a storm
We'll squeeze the air along at speed (Chalky) We pedants are horrified, m'dear.
But will not keep you warm.
I will tell a knock-knock joke
That's sure to split your sides
Knock! Knock! Who's there? Archie
Andrews. And laughter, it subsides.
Three blokes pop in their public house
(A rabbi, a priest and a Scot) That is how the joke goes, isn't it? No?
A fart by one makes t'next one sneeze
And the third shouts out "twot" moving swiftly on ...
Some people really try too hard .. last one was crap in every respect.
Ahem
- Some people really try too hard
- To show they are a wit
They dream up lines of poetry
That somehow don't quite fit
I think the last one needed to conclude in frenzied anticlimax, viz;

Three blokes pop in their public house
(A rabbi, priest and Scot)
Something funny happens then
But I've forgotten what.

[SM] Bravo!
A young man's fancy turns to love
Every seventh minute [Simons Mith] splendidly deft!
And in between he thinks of sex [SM] *applauds* [Rosie] I was thinking of young Archie Mides.
Cuz that's the best part, isn't it?
I wish I were a plectrum (cfm) You're too like edjumacated, innit. (CdM) I can never read your mind, you know.
I'd strum your heart-strings well
Until you fell in love with me
Or taught me how to spell
I'm glad I'm not a rocking horse
They're prone to constipation
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