A four line poem

Granny was quite careless
She once mangled the cat
But never one to waste things
She wore it as a hat.

Somehow I can't write pomes
However hard I try
So I'll just go and eat
Some lovely apple pie

I need a laugh, just a little bit
Like the time when,
in the mangle
granny caught her tit

Love the robin one Hilda.

It's alright, she found some mincemeat
Looking lonely in a jar.
Made some pastry, baked it up
Now she's going to stuff herself silly so tongue-sticky-out emoti to the lot of you.

Who said I can't rhyme?

Can I be bothered
Do I care
when DW says
“I've nothing to wear”

Let's all feel the joys of spring
That is better than anything
For getting us all up and dancing
Jumping, singing, waltzing, prancing!

Oh no Pompa not you, too
What on earth are we to do
GNs are really trying hard
But what we need is a proper bard.

I'm feeling flat
Lost my rhyming
and my timing
that's that

Nothing better to do
other than sit and doze
watching BBC one, or maybe two
until this lethargy goes

Their not there

If jingle's poem is what your'e yearning
Then to mumsnet you should be turning
Get them to post there angst and ire
She'll soon set their bum on fire

Jingle's lost her sense of humour
This is true, it's not a rumour
We must cheer her up, I think
Be quick someone, give her a drink

Jingl's feeling very flat
It's just not right, can't have that
Someone think of something quickly
She'll reply with something prickly.

The rain was pouring
The wind was blowing
But the Robin was singing
To gladden the morning.

Jingle says we must ignore her
That's a first - or do we bore her?
Maybe write too tasteful verses
Too much rhyme and too few curses.

For you Jingle

Bought a pork shank out of Lidl
In a sealed bag, what a fiddle
Gravy splashing on my cuff
Hope its tasty and not tuff.

Ignore that.

Can't get back cheer
Can't get back fun
Feeling low
Got to go

God knows where though.

One for Gerente?

No toilet humour in sight.

Elegran has raised the tone
Now there is no need to moan
Education's where it's at
Biology and all of that.

(Not an excuse to go back to the toilet humour, btw)

Very clever Elegran!

Your arteries are bright bright red
Chock full of Oxy Gen
Your veins are mauve blue, their oxy's shed
To feed your cells, ye ken.

They take the now depleted glup
Back to your thumping heart
To where your lungs can top it up
And so back to the start.

My mother had a flit gun
It was not devoid of charm
A bit of flit flew out the end
The rest flew up her arm.

Not my poem alas. This is from Pam Ayres

My blood is red
But my veins are blue
I don't know why
Do you?

Our grandson, called Finlay Zachopoulos,
Took his sister to see the Acropolis,
He said with a frown, 'It's about to fall down,
Lets run before it's on top of us.'