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I've not had time to post these up here for a while (I've not got time now but don't want to lose track of the poems) so here are the last few I wrote over the festive period: #31 of 100: The Beard
It's exactly what she feared,
he's about to grow a beard.
Messy and quite patchy,
she'll complain that it's all scratchy.
But he's determined to this time.
Thinks it's going to look just fine.
He'll look older and more intelligent --
like a lecturer or classy gent.
"Like a tramp more like" -- his wife will say.
Despite all this, the beard will stay. #32 of 100: A Punny Poem
I couldn't make her open up
because she was unhinged.
She wouldn't even talk to me,
her mouth, it was ajar.
Sometimes her funny eye told jokes
and I would always laugh.
Sometimes her tax was falsified
by her rather crooked nose.
At least she kept my lettuce fresh --
she was a little tubby. Oh, you might groan,
so did I.
And when I did,
she'd look me in the eye.
Hers would glint and catch the sun,
and I would think:
It's bound to a pun. #33 of 100: The Night Watchman
Night watchman for the stars.
Dancing through the glittered gloom.
Shines his torch on distant lands.
Guards the burning points of light. #34 of 100: The Camera
It steals your soul
said the man in the store
as he passed me a camera.
I had to know more.
"What's the zoom like?"
I held it aloft.
"That's not important"
He said as he scoffed.
So I point.
And I click.
With a whirr.
And a tick.
The salesman's soul fills me up with white life.
It makes me feel strong.
I know that it's wring.
But I buy it to take photos of my dear wife. #35 of 100: My Pregnant Wife (notice a theme :o))
My wife doesn't have wind.
The baby does.
My wife doesn't eat McDonalds.
The baby does.
My wife doesn't get annoyed at me.
Oh. Yes she does. #36 of 100: The Jaguar
Black as coal.
Black as shadow.
Strong as life.
Life of killing.
Sleek and lythe.
Hidden sorrow.
Stalks the world.
Always hunting.
Bringing death.
Unseen.
Until the last. #37 of 100: I Remember When
I remember when all this was text.
Even the naughty pictures were Ascii.
I remember the screaming I heard.
The garbled cries of our poor little modem.
When video phones were still science fiction.
But even in those does it fueled my addiction.
I remember when Yahoo was king.
When bulletin boards were the alltime best thing.
When flame wars were new and people would say.
A.S.L. -- Without feeling passe.
I remember it well and fondly think back
to an old Slackware Linux, and old Apple Mac.
But although it was cool in its own special way.
I think with my broadband, I'd much rather stay.
--EOF-- #38 of 100: More Remembering
I remember the day,
I learned to talk to girls.
It was raining.
She was pretty --
Tall for her age.
I thought I was in love.
The rain ran down my face.
I ached to hold her,
to feel her embrace.
"Hello" I said.
She sniffed and turned away.
Later, years from now,
My best friend would tell her how I felt.
She would say "Eugh"
And I would feel betrayed.
A week after, they were dating.
Holding hands.
I joined the chess club.
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