Craft

Posted on by phillippa68

all in the name of art…


There’s callouses on every hand
I’m blistered, bruised and sore,
I’ve hole-punched all their cardboard crap
embellished, styled and more…

I’ve scissored, hammered, laminated,
stapled, clipped and strapped,
I’ve sculptured, mache’d, moulded, painted,
triple-taped and wrapped.

They’ve had me drill and screw the lot
I’ve tethered, twitched and clamped,
Then inked and glittered each request
or sponged and stained and stamped.

I’ve textered, crayoned, pastelled too
and done the cut and paste,
I’ve stickered by the fistful –
Oh, the chaos I’ve embraced!

But never have I hurt so much
until we got that gun,
So much hot glue my hands have worn
I’m damn near fucking done!

My fingers are a bloody mess
These scars will long remain,
And while I hold this loaded gun
I face a world of pain.

But kids will be creative
and my two are far from daft,
So I’ll continue wounded, maimed
and suffer for their craft!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
18092014

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Old Bag

Posted on by phillippa68

leaks and creaks…

I’m growing old, it’s all downhill
I need a nap, I need a pill
My knee is shot, my back is sore
the hearing’s gone, my eye-sight’s poor

An ankle creaks, a finger clicks
arthritic pain as old age kicks
Both big toes bent, this bunyon curse
means lefty’s ache is getting worse

The crow’s feet suck, my jowl is etched
this wrinkled dermis pretty stretched
My saggy arse requires a bra
I hate the fact it’s dropped that far

My muffin top or jelly roll
just looks like I enjoy things whole
That bouncy, jiggly flibber flab
gives hubby’s hands an extra grab

My pelvic floor, from circumstance
means when I sneeze I piss my pants
Yes, childbirth made me split and crack
those stretchy bits just don’t bounce back

The puppies hang, no longer pert
with cherries sliding off dessert
Digestive tract needs healthy picks
or colon has me shitting bricks

Great pins I once put on display
have more than bloody seen their day,
Athletic body now surpassed
I think I’ve gone from first to last…

and so…

There’ll be a day when I just stare
and kick back in my padded chair
No memories left to seek or find
for I will just have lost my mind!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
03102013

Image sourced from Google Images

 

The Mall

Posted on by phillippa68

a dark day…



I lost him at the mall,
Why did I buy that dress?
Why did he need that game?
I didn’t need this stress…

I lost my kid’s address,
I nearly peed my pants,
We didn’t have a drill,
He didn’t stand a chance…

My panic-stricken search,
Would be a fruitless quest.
I felt the rising shame,
I’d failed the basic test.

I lost him at the mall,
I was a crumbling wreck,
Right then, he reappeared…
Right there, I wrung his neck!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
15032014

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Moan

Posted on by phillippa68

a moanotetra…

It’s been so long I’ve turned to stone
The vines are thick and overgrown
But blaze a trail and you’ll be prone
To make me moan, to make me moan

The trek is tough, but don’t be thrown
For I’m right here, you’re not alone
So face those fears and don’t postpone
Just make me moan, just make me moan

I’d like consideration shown
With but one skill you’ll need to hone
Let tongue become thy phallic clone
Come make me moan, come make me moan

At risk of sounding like a drone
Let roaming swirler set the tone
I love the scent of your cologne
Now make me moan, now make me moan

Mmmmm, stop the clock and hold the phone
I feel a note in your trombone
Such size and length I’ve rarely known
Could make me moan, could make me moan

Your tongue divine, my plot you’ve sewn
My spring has sprung, the birds have flown
I know you’re hard, but now I’ve blown
You’re on your own, you’re on your own!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
05082013

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Textoligomy

Posted on by phillippa68

under the thumb/s…

texting1

You’re texting in my company
Just what’s this texting crap with you?
Why would you be that rude to me?
I haven’t got the faintest clue

Should I offend and do it too?
Your thumbs have such ability
to hold you down – admit it’s true
You’re texting in my company!

An ignoramus you can be
It’s like I’ve got the Asian flu
Do you need texting sympathy?
Just what’s this texting crap with you?

Perhaps you’d better walk me through
your thumb and keypad symphony
This arguement is overdue –
Why you would be that rude to me?

Committing textoligomy
should be black banned and made taboo
The textoholics won’t agree
But I’m not shy so here’s a clue

Communicatability
is badly lacking, in my view
If you can’t focus on the “we”
I think it’s time your thumbs withdrew…

STP TXTNG!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
13072014

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Dishing the Dirt

Posted on by phillippa68

some grime and a little filth…

They ambush me at every twist and turn.
If they could speak they’d have a bit to say.
Like “Woman, won’t you ever damn well learn?”
Then I would have to quip “No bloody way…”

“No really, there is not a hope today.
Am I some kind of multitask machine?
Not at that dreadful sink I plan to stay.
Don’t think I’m standing round to scrub you clean.”

“I have a bunch of other shit to do.
Your dirty’s not inviting in the least.
For all you get is soiled and accrue,
the remnants of a meal that’s now deceased.”

“Well fine” they would retort, “Your stupid choice.
Ignore us and we’ll only pile up.
In barren cupboards you shall not rejoice…
for you won’t find a fucking plate or cup!”

“If only you’d comply and grant our wishes.
Locate the sink,  and do the goddamned dishes!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
16112013

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Stand and Pee

Posted on by phillippa68

a wee poem…

pee1

Just once I’d like to stand and pee
For men this flows so naturally
We ladies, face the dreaded squat
It’s in your face, we show the lot

No fingered grip can shroud if need
Yes, women just rely on speed
If roadside and we see a car
It’s pants up quick or bits will star

The story’s always much the same
To have a pee we must be game
Convenience is not our thing
As we don’t have a ding-a-ling

You fellas can just whip it out
And moisten breeze with modest spout
Discreetly pee and pledge your bit
Not hover in mid air and sit

It’s most offensive for us gals
To show our kit to all the pals
It wouldn’t matter, there or here
We always flash the landing gear

So many women I’ve heard say
“I’d like a dick for one whole day”
Unanimous, the girls agree
For once we’d like to stand and pee!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
08052010

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Folded Clothes

Posted on by phillippa68

it doesn’t matter how you look at them…

clothes1

I have a problem I’ll admit
with folded clothes,
They seem to drown me bit by bit
In stacks and rows,
I wash and dry them every day
But just can’t seem to put away
And my apparent slackness shows
with folded clothes…

I’m all or none, won’t half commit
There’s highs and lows,
But mostly there’s just folded shit
That’s how it goes,
The fact I rarely feel the urge
Means creased apparel’s now my scourge,
I’m near divorce as drama grows
with folded clothes …

same shit –
different poem …

A problem I’ll admit with folded clothes,
Can’t seem to follow through and put away,
I’m swamped by stacked apparel piled in rows,
That’s washed and hung and dried on any day.

My slackness is a billboard on display,
I’m all or none but rarely get the urge,
At any turn I’ll try and swim astray,
No fight against the creased apparel surge.

In leagues of grouped attire I shall submerge,
I’m drowning deep in problem I’ll admit,
Divorce assured with clothes my bane and scourge,
A cotton pickin’ sea of folded shit!

I know I’ll surely never get on top,
So back into computer chair I plop…

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
01012012

Image sourced from Google Images

 

Upstanding

Posted on by phillippa68

bar raising personification…

VWpenis1

The trouser snake, I’m chubbed awake
My thrills are based on friction,
Though I’ve no voice, if urged by choice
I’ll woo you with some dicktion…

My surging swell is hard as hell
Pulsating as I’m bulging,
No secret that this raging fat
would like to be indulging…

My elevation celebration
won’t be curbed or phased,
For once aroused, I’m soon unhoused
I’m stiff and I’m cocked and raised…

From flaccid worm to rigid firm
Erect as I’m upstanding,
I’ll give my all and brace your fall
So, careful where you’re landing!

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
08062014

Image created by P J Ross

 

Karma

Posted on by phillippa68

look out, it bites…

The drug lords fled by hovercraft with pounds of marijuana,
They sped up river, shook the cops but not the fast piranha,

They clipped a rock, the pot bounced off and promptly hit the water,
Alas a floating free for all, the greens were up for slaughter,

The cartel freaked and dived right in to save their mull in motion…
They thrashed about to no avail, just made a large commotion,

The hovercraft would speed away, no one on board to stop it,
Yet pot heads’ problems more severe, “How did we fucking drop it?”

The fish would take the hemp to task, engulfed it in a second,
But weed-filled rush, a body stone and desert mouth now beckoned,

Attack of major munchies seemed to further fuel the drama…
As fish closed in on flailing arms you’d have to say “That’s karma!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Copyright P J Ross
21072013

Image sourced from Google Images