Poetry and Creative Writing for All

The Top 5 Poems of the Month

June 2005

Our winning poet for June is Melinda Penman.
Read Melinda's biography and more of her poems

MFI DIY!

(Or The Ikea Idea!)
(Or The Focus Bogus!)

We needed some brand new furniture
And we thought we could “Do It Yourself”
So we trotted along to the warehouse
To choose it from off of the shelf

It didn’t seem too much trouble
It seemed to be easy as pie
To select what you want from the brochure
And take it away from on high

But the weight of those boxes was massive
To carry them out to the car
Was impossible, I did my back in –
And The Other Halfs shoulder’s ajar!

Transporting them home was a doddle (cough cough!!!)
The balancing act, that was fun
The boxes, they dented the cushions
And I’ve got a huge bruise on my bum!!

After taking them into our humble abode
We needed a nice cup of tea
And a biccie or two (just for dunking)
And a quick visit (just for a wee!)

On looking through all the instructions
Why is it?  I can’t comprehend!
How you have to read through every language
And English is right at the end!!!

So then we got down to the business
Of sorting the pieces, you see
I can’t find the right sort of screwdriver
And piece ‘A’ won’t fit into piece ‘B’!!!

With washers and screws and an Alun key
And holding the pieces together
I wish I was a contortionist
And this thing was as light as a feather!

The Other Half’s taken a hammer
To the back to front pieces of wood
To turn it around and adjust it
Cos it really doesn’t look good

How come all those screws are left over?
How come that it doesn’t look right?
We followed the instructions implicitly
And it took us most of the night!

A couple of pieces are missing
We should have a couple of doors
But instead of us buying a wardrobe
We’ve got us a nice chest of drawers!!!

Melinda Penman

Top

Here are the other four poems chosen by our imprint editors as winning poems for June. All other poems submitted for the Top 5 Poems of the Month for June are being considered for various anthologies.

My Dad

My Dad is not a millionaire
He’s worth far more than that.
He hasn't got a models looks
But he’s got a sixty pack.

My Dad’s not got a flashy car,
He drives a big white van,
He takes some rubbish to the skip,
And does whatever he can.

My dad is not a well-paid man,
He has to clean up drains,
And even though it makes him smell,
He never ever complains.

He’s not the brightest dad you've seen,
But inside he’s bright like a light,
He’s not a violent man you know,
He won't ever, ever fight.

He’s not a famous footballer,
Who’s always on the telly,
But you should see his dribbling skills,
When lying on his belly.

My dad is not a gourmet chief,
But feeds me really well,
He’s not a famous author
But stories he can tell.

My dad will always be himself,
And always be the best,
He’s very tough and extremely rough,
And better than the rest.

Callum Smith

Top

My Harbour

A ship without an anchor,
I once sailed the greeny-blue
And, while the weather lasted,
There were many ports I knew.

But recklessly I ventured
Out into the boundless deep
To plunder yet more treasure
That I wouldn't want to keep.

The dark clouds swiftly mounted,
Black as pitch became the sea.
The wind began to whisper
That it's lonely being free.

And then it ran its fingers
Through the cruel sea like a comb
And raked-up waves like mountains
So that all was froth and foam.

I feared that I would flounder
In the fathomless abyss,
No man to mourn my parting
And no lover's farewell kiss.

But then the storm abated
And a harbour came in view,
The clouds were left in tatters
And the sunshine filtered through.

Now safely I am anchored
In the harbour I adore
And always I am thankful
That the sea will rage no more.

Chris Scriven

Top

Doors

There's a closed pink door
At the top of the stairs
And behind it there's a man
Who's saying his prayers.
He asks God to forgive him
For he's about to sin,
There's a monkey on his back
And his patience's wearing thin.

There's an open pink door 
At the top of the stairs
And behind it there's a room
Full of terrible fears;
A man lies on a crumpled bed
A razor in his hand -
And a stream of blood trickling
Towards the promised land.

Vicki Stevens

Top

Man Flu

"I shouldn't go to work today", he whined - "and yet I must;
My head's a little clammy and my nose contains a crust: 
A hardened mass of mucus - whatever shall I do?
I'm coming down with, 
Coming down with, 
Coming down - atchooo!"

"Oohhhh, I've got the raging shivers - can I have a cup of tea?
Pop a drop of brandy in… Of course it's good for me!
And another, and another, and another, for the chill;
I'm not an alcoholic! I'm just really, really ill!"

"And could you fluff my pillows up - and pass me the remote?
My arms are weak and floppy and I'm getting a sore throat,
Call the boss and tell her that I'm coming down with flu - 
Say I've got a temperature of one-hundred-and-two."

"I'm feeling rather nauseous - I think I'm going to chuck it,
Hurry to the kitchen, quick, and fetch the bloody bucket,
Ooooh, it's coming…ooooooh it's here: I really couldn't stop it - 
You'd better get the bleach as well - you're gonna have to mop it."

"Oooooh, my stomach's got so empty, it's resulted in an ache - 
I'd feel better for the lemon in that lemon drizzle cake;
And the honey in the Crunchy Nut should make me right as rain - 
Better top me up with brandy: just a little - for the pain."

"No darling, there's no need for you to contact the G.P. - 
I only need some Day-Nurse and a little T.L.C.
And perhaps another brandy, for my throat, you understand - 
And a back-rub in the bath-tub - just to soothe my swollen gland."

"Ahhh, I feel a little better, though I'm still under the weather - 
At times like these, my dearest, I'm so glad that we're together:
What's a little illness? We can take it on the chin!
What? There's no more brandy? So, just pour me out a gin."

You're feeling sick and tired? Oh, it's possibly a bug,
Come over here my sweetheart and I'll cure it with a hug:
At this rate I'll be back at work in six days, maybe five - 
And I'll tell them that it's thanks to you, I managed to survive.

Other Teresa

Top

To submit a poem to the online competition email
inbox@forwardpress.co.uk
Please include Top 5 Poems in the subject line of your email.