P.R.O.D.: A Bumper Book of Poems, Rhymes, Odes & Ditties

By Paul H. Last

A compilation of poems from A-Z

about love, life and everything in between.

I hope you enjoy reading it

As much as I have enjoyed

writing it.

Make peace not war.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul H. Last
• Release date: Sep 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781802276503

Book preview

AARDVARK QUILL

Picked up my quill, scratched my head

Decided some poetry should be read

Tried to write a verse for all

So some are short and some are tall

I hope my best efforts here will do

By all and sundry and especially you.

A LESSON LEARNT

One day whilst walking in the street

A hunchbacked man I chanced to meet

I spoke to him as is my way

He didn’t have that much to say

I said, I spit in circles, lines and squares

He said he didn’t really care

He had a spitting trick of class

He’d spit ‘tween eye and the eyeglass

As off he shuffled through the park

I wiped my face and glasses dark

The moral here and it’s so plain

Don’t talk to strangers, nowt to gain.

THE ALIEN

"Good heavens, Moley

Have you seen that frog?

It must be a hybrid

It’s as big as a dog

It’s a clone or something

It surely must be

You can gauge its size

From that willow tree

I hope there’s no other

I don’t wish it harm

But it shouldn’t be here

It should be on a farm

If it stays where it is

I don’t wish to be mean

It’ll mess up the peace

Of the riverbank scene"

"I agree, Olly

We can’t have it here

Spawning and croaking

And spoiling our cheer

Somehow or the other

We must lure it away

Tease it or kick it

Or engage it in play

We must get it to hop

To some other place

We don’t want it to breed

And start a new race

We could lasso the monster

With guile and some rope

The plan may work

Well, that’s what I hope"

Despatch the thing

Said Badger and Fox

"Mail it to Ratty

Packed in a box"

"No, we’ll drag the frog

Way down to the docks

It’s far too large

To be packed in a box

Then onto the ferry

And send it to France

I hope you agree

It’s our only chance

There the poor frog

Will be eaten for sure

And thoroughly enjoyed

By a French epicure."

THE ALIEN PILOT

One night I saw a big UFO hovering in the sky

Friends don’t believe they exist, I really don’t know why

And when the pilot saw me watching him in awe

He did a loop the loop and landed near my door

Come into my ship, he said, "And have a good look round

I’ll take you for a quick spin once we’ve left the ground

We could go to the moon and back or Venus, if you like

We’d get there faster than you’d be in town on your old bike"

The pilot pulled a lever and we were off at such high speed

Passing planes and spacecraft; their names too fast to read

He did a quick flip round the moon and asked if I was okay

I asked him, Can we have a quick look round the Milky Way?

Where do you want to go to next, maybe Jupiter and Mars?

No, I don’t think so, says I, But does your home have cars?

No, but we have similar things that run on plastic rails

With that, he turned the craft around and fluttered out its sails

We landed on his rocky planet on this wondrous trip

Suddenly the ground opened and swallowed up the ship

I felt a bang, then a crunch and something hit my head

I realised when I woke up, I’d fallen out of bed.

ALZHEIMER’S

I can’t remember her coming

Arriving at my door

I can’t recall her begging

And pleading she was poor

I don’t remember her taking

My money as she left

I only know she left me

So lonely and bereft

I can’t think how she did it

Did it with such ease

Oh God, why do you punish me

With this miserable disease?

A MILLION DREAMS

I wish I could win a million

A million pounds or more

I’d keep it for myself

Wouldn’t give it to the poor

I’d buy myself a Rolls Royce

And park it on my drive

So passers-by could see it

Then they’d know I was alive

Don’t know how I’d win it though

‘Cos I don’t have a premium bond

And the lottery is too much for me

And I don’t have a magic wand.

AN ODE TO COLLECTIVE NOUNS

A Clutter of Cats chase a Mischief of Mice

A Pack of Dogs think fox hunting is nice

A Passel of Hogs search for truffle under trees

A Rumba of Rattlesnakes dance in the breeze

All this watched over with frowns and scowls

By a Confusion of Guinea Fowl and a Parliament of Owls

But please don’t mistake these with a Muster of Storks

Or the peculiarly nouned, I think, Kettle of Hawks

The Hare is described by the seven nouns thus

Warren, Down, Leash, Drove, Trip, Trace and Hush

There are three for the beast that sleeps in his lair

Sloth, Pack and Sleuth for mister grizzly the Bear

Armies, Knots and Colonies describe little Frogs

Who hop, croak and mate in ponds, rivers and bogs

While Covers of Coot flap and splash overhead

And Schools of Fish dart about looking for bread

A Bale of Turtles; have you heard such a thing?

Or a Weyr of Dragons who’ll never take wing?

Of collective nouns, these are only a few

They amuse me greatly and I hope they will you.

AN OLDSTER’S THOUGHTS

I’m sixty-six and I know it’s wrong

To think about the contents of a young girl’s thong

My young friends tease me, fire my mind

I think they think they’re being kind

But they should know that when one’s old

With young lassies oldsters can’t be bold

So as I sit here and sup my beer

I realise my age and I shed a tear

I remember when young how it used to be

And the young girls queued to sit on my knee.

ANOTHER TANK POEM

The Calor man called with a tale of woe

Your tank’s old and rusty and it’s got to go

He said waving an arm with no smile or smirk

I’ll send a first-class crew to do all the work

They set to work quickly and dug a deep pit

But chewed up the soggy ground all around it

They buried the large tank and back-filled around

With the earth they’d dug up from the sodden ground

The gas was turned on to a warning flag

An unexpected leak was more than a snag

"It’s very cold and we expect a sharp frost

We’ve shut down the system but all is not lost"

"You can’t have flame and you can’t have fire

If you light the gas, you could die on the pyre

You’ve got a holed pipe beneath the house

Probably caused by a metal-chewing mouse!"

A gas fitter arrived to fit the new pipe

The anti-rodent metal pipe type

Then the gas was turned on to smiles all around

But we still have to deal with the churned-up ground.

APRIL

April arrives and brings its flowers

It also brings a lot of showers

All people released from winter’s grip

Now they can go on that coastal trip

Or take a stroll through budding trees

Watch bluebells swaying in the breeze

Violets, primroses and wild garlic too

Or perhaps take the children to the zoo

Yes, April is the month of good cheer

Sitting with friends and drinking beer

Or having the family round for a meal

Yes, the month, when dry, has great appeal.

ARTHUR

Arthur was an alley cat who slept to pass each day

At night he was a predator with easy meat his prey

His territory was rough ground, alleys and back streets

Other Toms took fright of him; to kittens, he gave treats

One night, as he was hunting for a tasty bite

A grey-haired lady on a stick shuffled into sight

She threw down half a chicken, food enough a cat to fox

Before he knew what happened, he was trapped inside a box

When the car stopped moving, she freed him from the case

His eyes took in a stately home, a really lovely place

And there arranged before him stood bowls of milk and meat

So Arthur was a lucky cat and life was now a treat.

ASCENSUS CROCODILES NONSENSEICUS

If wily crocodiles could climb trees

It would make a man quake at his knees

He’d have to wear a wide brimmed hat

If walking under branches where they sat

Well, I’ve got some bad news for us all

It’s a very true story and no way tall

Crocodiles can and they do climb trees

So beware if above you hear one sneeze

I heard of a young lass on the River Plate

Who ate a whole crocodile, her hunger to sate

But she couldn’t run later as she was so fat

So the croc’s family left her and chased her cat

Another young lass from Miami State

Was in a big hurry ‘cos she was so late

A croc pushing a blue cart wandered by

She was so scared but the croc just said hi

Then there was a lad from the city of Ghana

Who sat under a tree with a big banana

A croc took a bite in broad daylight

Not from the lad but his tasty delight

A chap from Mumbai laid out on the rocks

On a wide riverbank brimmed full of crocs

The man dived in and swam at a pace

So a croc dived in, he thought it a race

A lass from Siam loved slices of ham

For afters, she loved bread and apricot jam

While she was eating a slice under a tree

A croc from above said, Give some to me

An Amazonian fella named Billy Kwinn

Was giving his new speedboat a spin

He was at full revs showing off to his boys

A croc in the trees shouted, Cut down the noise

The Australian crocodile loves the blue sea

Likes salt on his tucker and in his tea

Can’t hold a salt shaker so takes his meals

Amongst the fish and the nosy brown seals

But when the croc wants to warm his skin

Out of a billabong and up a tree he’ll shin

Jim Churchley photographed a croc up there

You can view it on the net, if you really care

When next you visit your local zoo

Be sure to take an iced bun or two

Crocs love iced buns or so it seems

Sends them into their crocodile dreams

There’s not much danger of crocs where I live

‘Cos I’ve nothing to eat and not much to give

They could sit in the trees and take a snooze

But they’d go hungry, have too much to lose

But if you reside in a much wealthier city

The crocs might chase you and that’s a pity

But be kind to the crocs as you turn to run

Because they are sad and don’t have much fun

And remember beware when you walk in a wood

Dreaming that all in our old world is good

A croc and his kin folk may be up in the trees

Snoozing in the sun or shooting the breeze

I’ve mentioned some countries that crocs live in

They’re ferocious beasts but they don’t commit sin

And because these crocs are all natives there

I didn’t need to tell you, ‘cos we live elsewhere.

N.B. Crocs are native to North and South America, India, the Far East, Australia and Africa and do climb trees.

A SQUIRREL’S LOT

I am a little squirrel; I live in tall topped trees

I often sit on branches enjoying summer’s breeze

But I have to keep a lookout, I don’t want to be a meal

For a hungry bird or animal to whom I may appeal

Big hooty owls and all red kites will attack me from above

My body is the very meat that those birds really love

Foxes, badgers, dogs and cats all like me for their tea

When