First - a poem about a jellyfish: 

The Jellyfish
Undulating blob of gunk
Wobbling in the salty breeze.
Veiny and translucent in your beauty.
Once you were a mighty foe.
A gliding grace
Through the dark and murky ocean.
Stinging those who dared to touch.
Now you lie discarded.
Naked.
Laid bare upon the sand.
A small child raises heavy arms
And drops a stone.
You spatter grudgingly upon the rock.

Second, a short one about giraffes:

The Giraffe
The giraffe is one of my favourites.
I love the way they walk.
Graceful yet gangly. 
Elegant oddballs.
Obsidian eyes filled with knowledge.

A slightly longer one about trying to go for a drink last night despite all the odds:

One Step
It's been raining
Though it's not removed the snow.
A foot of icy sludge
I battle through
In my quest for a drink.
          One step.
After another.
          One foot. 
At a time.

It's getting dark
Though the street lamps light the way. 
Blackened scum of snow and cars
I battle through
For my lovely glass of wine.
          One step.
Closer now.
          One foot.
Slips but holds.

It's not far
Though it feels it in this weather.
Cold and foggy, heavy - icy breath. 
I battle through
The bar is now in sight.
          One step.
The lights are off.
          One foot.
Turns around and heads for home.

And finally, a poem about taking bets on the first rude phrase our child will utter when he turns thirteen.

All Bets Are On.
The book is open.
What'll it be?
The odds on favourite?
Let me see...
At the top it's the Bottle - 2 to 1.
"Leave me alone".
Close behind - a Carpet - 3 to 1.
"You don't understand me".
And 4 to 1 is "It's not fair".
A couple of outside chances
Double Carpet
33 to 1 with "Please may I".
And another runner
Making a mark it's
Burlington Bertie
100 to 30
on "Excuse me please".

And they're off.
The child is born.
The child is born.
It learn to talk
It learn to walk
The phrases fly
But which'll it be
As 13 years pass by
It's neck-a-neck
For "You don't understand me"
and "Please may I".
"Please may I" is taking the lead.
I can't believe it.
"Please may I" is breaking away.
Through the 12 year stretch
Will she take it?
But what's this?
Coming from behind 
At the last minute
"I hate you" from the back of the pack.
And "I hate you" wins by a nose.

Anyone who wishes to place a bet on the favourite phrase of our child when he or she turns 13, is of course, more than welcome. 

These don't include today's (which I've yet to write). The first is part of a longer piece I've planned for a Fantasy story. I'll add more to this as the 100 days go along. The second is about the snow. The third is another limerick.

The Prophesies of Nak'tim.

Two babes born of mining stock.
Born of green and raised through rock.
One to take the forest path.
T'other joined to him by wrath.
One to rule the mining folk.
T'other tends the fir and oak.
Both will clash when blood is spilt.
Shattering the powers built.
Death will be their first divide.
One must then be forced to ride.
Ten score years to learn the trade.
Ten more past as memories fade.
Both will play a part in this.
Freedom earned by Grim's first kiss.
Future of an entire nation,
Hangs upon a celebration.
Only when they learn their past,
When armies of the Karn are massed,
Then the peace can be secured.
Signed in blood when rifts are cured.

Cold.
Our house is cold 'cause we're trying to save money.
I long for a day that is lovely and sunny.
But til then I'll sit by the heater a while
And warm myself up and defrost this ice smile.

Cold smiles are dangerous, didn't you know?
I may look quite cheerful, out in the snow.
Well I'm not -- I'm planning a retaliation
Upon those who lie at the Welsh Weather Station.

It's going to get warmer -- going to melt.
Well I'm off with my gloves and I'm going to pelt
The weatherman with non-existent snowballs
And when he splutters and when he falls

I'll feel rather guilty 'cause he's not to blame 
But it's nice to have a scapegoat just the same.

Limerick
There once was a dog from Paris
Who wanted to go in the sea.
So he got a lift down
To a small fishing down
And he went in the sea for a pee. 

#39 of 100: The Spaceman
The first thing he did,
when he got off the ship
was float down to ground
and look back at the Earth.

So far away.
He thought to himself.
Then he remembered
why he had stopped.

Without too much thinking
he undid his fly.
The feeling of air
that rushed past his bits
was strangely pleasant.
He watched his wee
reach escape velocity
as it headed out to space
toward the blue-green globe.

Aaaaah, that's better he said
I wonder where it'll land.

#40 of 100: Primark
Who's next please?
A man hands over lacy things.
Blacks and pinks spill forth
as he smiles weakly and embarrassed.

Who's next please?
A hippy couple buying gloves.
Ignoring the questions raised up from the price.
They'd rather have warmer hands than clearer consciences.

Who's next please?
A young Mum buying baby clothes.
She can't afford expensive ones
and spends her meagre earnings on her child.

Who's next please?
A man who left his soul behind.
Forever stolen by our need for consumerism.
Weeping softly for what's lost.
He never knew the cost.
He never knew the cost.
Who's next please?