Life and Rhymes

By Viv Wade

A selection of humorous poems on a variety of subjects, such as: insomnia, flat-pack furniture, job interviews, constipation, middle-aged anarchy, the unreliability of plumbers, menopause, self-service checkout machines, having a hangover, the apparently perfect lives of everyone on Facebook, and more... Life is more fun when it rhymes!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Viv Wade
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005402600

Viv Wade

Viv Wade is a British writer. She lives in the West Midlands, England.

Book preview

I always thought I’d like to write a funny rhyme or two,

So I resolved to have a go, and see what I could do.

I got my little laptop out, placed it on the table,

Plugged it in to charge it up – and tripped over the cable.

I sat down and began to type, the words came thick and fast,

I didn’t want to stop lest inspiration didn’t last.

I became engrossed, the outside world was soon forgotten.

I didn’t put the bins out, and my fruit bowl went rotten.

I never stopped for food or sleep, I didn’t want to shirk.

I only had a crate of wine – well, writing’s thirsty work!

The dust grew thick around the house, the laundry went undone.

My husband packed his bags and emigrated to the sun.

Yet still I sat and typed away, till at last I was done.

And then when I got up, I realised my bum was numb!

I read what I had written, and decided it was time,

To set them free, out in the world, all these poems of mine.

So here they are, in ebook form, all in a rhyming style.

I do hope you enjoy them - and perhaps they’ll make you smile!

A Multitude of Moggies

A cat came to my house one day,

He looked too thin, he was a stray.

He seemed so sad out in the street.

I gave him some tuna to eat,

Then when he’d eaten a whole tin,

He seemed to think he should come in.

He darted through my open door,

Left mucky paw prints on the floor.

He looked round with a lordly stare,

Then settled in my comfy chair.

He looked at me as if to say,

I live here now, I’m here to stay!

Soon after that, another stray

Arrived at my front door one day.

His fur was sparse, his ears were torn,

He looked neglected and forlorn.

I felt I had to give him food;

To not feed him would have been rude.

I opened up a tin of fish,

And fed it to him, on a dish.

He fixed me with his catty grin,

Before I knew it, he’d moved in.

He gave a small, contented shrug,

And settled down upon the rug.

I think those two cats sent word round

About the soft touch they had found.

Loads of cats began to arrive,

They formed a queue along the drive,

And with a caterwauling din

Demanded that I let them in!

Now I must buy food in large vats

To feed all of those pampered cats.

They cost a small fortune to keep,

They won’t eat anything that’s cheap!

Those spoilt cats aren’t even grateful

For each tasty bowl and plateful.

They don’t respect me, it’s quite plain,

They treat me with haughty disdain.

They bring in half-dead birds and mice,

Which really isn’t very nice!

My rugs are shredded by their claws,

They sleep in cupboards, and in drawers.

The house is covered in cat hair,

Six cats sit upon every chair.

It seems there is no room for me,

My house is now a cattery.

They’ve even commandeered my bed -

I’ve had to move into the shed!

Ode to a Bath

To ease your bones, and soothe your wrath,

Relax into a nice hot bath.

When life fills you with cares and woes,

Turn on the taps, take off your clothes.

Some bubble bath, a glass of wine,

I guarantee you’ll soon feel fine -

Until some pest comes to spoil it,

Mum! I need to use the toilet!

Let Mother Sort It Out

When there’s a problem in the household, be it large or small,

Or someone has mislaid something, and can’t find it at all,

If anything needs doing, there is never any doubt,

No one has to fret or worry. Let Mother sort it out.

When the kids have caught chicken pox, and tend to itch and whine,

Then Mother will be on hand to dab on the calamine.

If someone’s feeling poorly, with a headache, flu, or gout,

With kindness and some medicine, let Mother sort it out.

When your trousers need ironing, before a dinner date,

Mother will smooth the creases out, and make sure you’re not late.

If you spill food down your best shirt, then do not muck about.

Just chuck it in the laundry bin, let Mother sort it out.

When Dad can’t find his car keys, and he’s hunting high and low,

That they’re in his jacket pocket, Mother will always know.

If your boyfriend has dumped you, there’s no need to cry and pout.

With sympathy and cups of tea, let Mother sort it out.

If the hemline needs adjusting on one of your best frocks,

Mother will get it sorted with her little sewing box.

When your tights get a ladder, you don’t have to scream and shout.

You-know-who will have a spare pair, let Mother sort it out.

If life seems full of problems, and too difficult a task,

Mother will have the answers, so you only have to ask.

When you are in a crisis, and solutions are in doubt,

Forget Google and Alexa - let Mother sort it out.

When everything is upside down, and nothing’s going right,

And Dad is in a panic, and the kids are in a fight,

If the house is in chaos, then there can’t be any doubt,

You’ll have to wait till she gets back - Mother must have gone out!

Inflatable Irene

The ideal girlfriend…?

I’m Inflatable Irene, your blow-up girlfriend.

I am here when you need me, weekday or weekend.

I don’t need gifts, or flowers, or candlelit meals,

And I’ll never be taller than you in high heels.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your rubber romance.

I can make you so happy, just give me a chance.

I will never get fat round the thighs, or the rump,

Unless you go too far with the bicycle pump.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your polythene peach.

I’m not out of your league, I am within your reach.

I will never grow old, I won’t let myself go.

If you’d like my boobs bigger, just give them a blow.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your plastic princess.

I will wear what you like, lingerie or a dress.

I will never be moody, I won’t slap your face.

When you go on vacation, I’ll fit in your case.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your babe-shaped balloon.

I won’t mind if you don’t want to cuddle, or spoon.

I will never stop loving you, I’ll always care.

I won’t tell you you’re too fat, or laugh at your hair.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your air-filled airhead.

If you are feeling frisky, just take me to bed.

I won’t be disappointed, no matter how quick.

You don’t need to be gentle, my rubber’s quite thick.

I’m Inflatable Irene, your PVC pal.

Whatever you’re into, I am your kinda gal.

When you’re bored of me, kill me - a knife through my heart.

I won’t cry out for help, I’ll just give one long fart…

Ode to a Bacon Sandwich

One food I’d eat for every course

Is bacon sarnies with brown sauce.

There is no scent quite as thrilling

As smoked bacon rashers, grilling!

Some people say that it’s cruel

To eat animals for fuel,

Consuming flesh does seem vicious,

But crisp bacon’s so delicious!

Yet I would like to make amends

To our remaining porcine friends.

So