Mr DIY

There’s no request he will rebuff

No plea for help deny

He’s the man who can

The man who does

He’s Mr DIY





He’s a one-man mending maestro

A repairer extraordinaire

The man with do it knowhow who

Can un-dis disrepair





So when you cannot do it

If you’re a why can’t I D I

Call upon the man who can

Call Mr DIY





The man with D I DNA

The man with all the skill

The man who can

The man who does

The man who always will

Say he’s completely crammed this month

That his diaries full

That he’ll fit you in if there’s

A DIYing lull





And though he didn’t rebuff you

Or your job deny

You know your I

Will never get done

By Mr DIY





So you ask why did you ask him when

You know you should first try

The one who can

And always does

Mrs DIY

The Poetry Competition

I’ve entered a poetry competition

The subject was subject free

I’ve sent along half a dozen

I’ve paid the entry fee





I’m sure to win

And get second and third

I predict confidently

As the competition

My poems are in

Was organised by me





I’ve assumed a name and email address

To disguise my treachery

But this sure-fire way to achieve my goal

Caused something I could not foresee





I now feel a touch of guilt

As my prize win guarantee

Is not the way I want to achieve

My poetic apogee





But the send-by date was yesterday

It’s too late to remedy

My poetic misdemeanour

My poetic dishonesty although

There is a silver lining

My win will be guilt free

As every poem that’s been sent in

Has been sent in by me

Lazy Day

Today I’m being lazy

I’m Implementing apathy

By not lifting a finger

I can wallow in ennui





I’m devoid of motivation

I lack an ounce of energy

Getting up and going is today

Not for me





I’m going to have a lazy day

And use my superpower

My superhuman slothfulness

And laze away each hour





I’ll spend all of today in bed

Activity I’ll disown

I’ll have a horizontal day

Today I can’t condone





Being up and being busy

Being here and being there

I’m going to be bone idle

With a touch of laissez faire





And because this is a lazy day

I’m lyrically averse

To adding any more so please

Make up your own last verse

The Grown-up

It’s time to be an adult

To finally act my age

To become a grown up grown-up and

To childhood disengage





To display a sense of decorum

To fledge and spread my wings

To adopt the ways of an adult

And all that adulting brings





I’ll no longer indulge in tomfoolery

And laugh at puerile jokes

I’ll concern myself with grownupness

Like other grown up folks





As it’s time to be an adult

I’m past post teenage

So could a grown up please explain

How do I act my age

The Historian

He wants to know what was what’s what

And why that what once was

And who did what and what they did

And why they did because





He likes to study history

To learn how things once were

He’s something of a history buff

A what was connoisseur  





Who knows why this and that occurred

And what caused what and why

And who did what but who did not

He yearns to clarify





And if the mists of time stay clear

And don’t become a fog

That cloud his cerebellum

And his history channels clog





He will discover who did not 

And when they did did not

And why they did and did not did

And did not did what’s what





He’s something of a history buff

He lives in the past

And though his chosen subject

Is subject matter vast





He prefers it to the present

As the present doesn’t last

He says he’ll live in the present

When the present is the past