Some Disposable Christmas Poems…

Christmas is a very disposable time of year – wrapping paper, cards, decorations, used crackers, turkey carcasses, unwanted presents – all manner of things get lobbed into the bin in that great clearout (shush!) between boxing day and New Year’s eve. I’m actually quite fond of “disposable poetry” too, though disposable in this instance means “throwaway” or “off the cuff” rather than junk (though the two, of course, are far from mutually exclusive).

Anyhoo, here are a short selection of Christmas pomes I’ve penned (well, typed – ’tis the 21st century after all) over the past week or so, mostly building on weak jokes or puns I’ve coined on Facebook or Twitter.

ODE TO A SPROUT

A Marmite™ veg, the Brussels sprout
Both cheers and groans when they’re brought out
Yet Christmas lunch seems incomplete
Without some sprout about the meat.*

THE TURKEY

The turkey is an ugly bird
Who lacks both style and grace
But stuffed and roast on Christmas day
His corpse takes pride of place

*

STOCKING-FILLER SMELLIES FOR MEN
(a Clerihew)

Old Spice
Is very nice
But it’s not as effective at attracting sexy young minxes
As Lynx is

old spice

*

This one has more to do with post-Christmas dinner “celebrations” than Christmas itself, but I’ve included it anyway… 

BLACK BELT IN BROWN THUNDER

When it comes to the art of the silent fart
My pig of a son’s the master
The intestinal gasses he slyly passes
Could strip a wall of plaster
When he drops his guts he thinks he’s the Mutt’s
As our eyes begin to water
Then he flees the scene as we all turn green.
And I contemplate manslaughter

No, it’s not much fun when a vile son
Thinks farts were made for sharing
Or believes it witty to float smells shitty
And give them a public airing
And as I reflect on his lack of respect
That he won’t act how he ought’r
He’ll go for the double with another foul bubble –

God, I wish I’d had a daughter…

farting ben

 

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