Comfort Zone

It’s time to go outside my comfort zone  

And try something comfort unzoned

Something I wouldn’t normally attempt

That I comfort outside zone postponed

Something out of my ordinary

Involving something new

An experience I wouldn’t normally try

A comfort zone breakthrough

I’ve made a list of perhapses

Included a few maybe’s

The list is quite extensive

It fills me with comfort unease

As I’m happy not comfort zone straining

And really cannot see why

I should attempt to step over the border

And bid my comfort zone goodbye

So I’ve decided I’m going to stay put

As making a list has shown

That just thinking about going outside

Was outside my comfort zone


I want to get away from it all

Have a relaxing holiday

Pass a port with my passport

Find somewhere warm to stay

Somewhere with a sandy beech

A warm inviting sea

Somewhere I can sun myself

Absorb vitamin D

I want to get away from it all

From it all wants away from me

I got a postcard from it all

It’s on holiday by the sea

I’m having a lovely time, it wrote

I don’t wish that you were here

I’m sorry but it has to be said

As you made it perfectly clear

You want to get away from me

So I got away from you

I’m never ever coming back

This is a permanent adieu

How rude, I thought, but it had a point

I couldn’t disagree

I just wish I could join my got away

And get away from me

The Very Very Clever Bloke

He’s a very very clever bloke

Has a thermometer full of degrees

Has letters in front and after his name

Is an academic Hercules

No subject matter eludes him

No problem he’ll misconstrue

He knows everything there is to know

Has an infinite IQ

And infinite ability

To resolve arithmetic sums

Complex numerical equations

Not a single brain cell numbs  

All crosswords, cryptic and coffee time

He’ll ink still wet complete

Just one etymological problem exists

His brain cannot defeat

This very very clever bloke

Is very very annoyed

As even his immense brain power

Has failed when poetically employed

To rhyme a word with orange


He doesn’t like bad grammar

He feels there is no excuse

As the rules are fairly straightforward

So there’s no need for grammatic abuse

He knows if a colon is semi

Or dot swapped so it’s fully                           detached

And when marks should be punctuated

Used correctly

Not mixed

Not matched

He doesn’t like bad grammar

He considers poor syntax a sin

An i after e when there isn’t a c

He couldn’t bear and grin

Until he discovered emojis

And how to un spell-check spell check

His use of the grammatically imperfect

Became something he’d daily perfect

But red underlines in his poems  

His suppressed pedantry piqued

He couldn’t quell his good grammar desire

His bad grammar he constantly tweaked

So he became a born-again pedant

Who never strayed


From the correct use of written language

From perfect phraseology

But it made his poems quite boring

So here’s an apology

From the recently born-again pedant who

I guess

You guessed

Is me (sorry)


Father was fixing the toilet

When he accidentally flushed

He vanished round the U-bend

And into the sewer he gushed

Typical, said mother

Another job incomplete

The toilet is still broken

And he forgot to put down the seat

So now every morning

There’s a queue at the kitchen sink

We use it instead of the toilet

But it makes the whole house stink

(Or this third verse)

And now it’s over six months

Since father left this address

Mother mended the toilet

We’re flushed with her success.