OUCH
I had a green thumb yesterday
I hit it with a spanner
Now it’s turning purple grey
In a most uncanny manner.
I had a green thumb yesterday
I hit it with a spade
I hit it once again today
And it’s turned a khaki shade
I had a green thumb yesterday
I hit it more ‘n I oughter
It happened by the waterway
And now it’s in the water.
I had a green thumb yesterday
And with an axe I struck it
I left it in an alleyway
Inside a rusty bucket.
- Author: Michael Edwards ( Offline)
- Published: September 19th, 2018 01:20
- Comment from author about the poem: Inspired by WC's write a couple of days ago - thanks WC
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 45
Comments11
Many years ago my father used to work shift work at Grain Oil Refinery. One Sunday afternoon my Mum brother and I were watching cricket, the John Player League, when Dad walked in with his hand bandaged, we asked what had happened, he said he had hit his finger with a spanner - we all fell about laughing.
He had broken the top bone in his middle finger in three places.
I hope the bucket was clean.
The bucket certainly was clean
even the rust was clean as could be
the cleanest bucket you've ever seen
the ideal place to have a pee.
Oh lol, a fine write and pic Michael.
Goldie's father had the same trouble then, as your recent poem - broke finger in three places. Was that England, Spain, and France, the three places? Hmm.
No joke though when it happens.
Never broken a bone in my body (where else would they be I hear you ask) and I'm running out of time - something else I might miss out on. Oh such a sad life I lead (where do you lead it I hear you ask).
And - Where is time? is it a prison or what? Where you running out of?! And furthermore - why am I talking rubbish?!
ha! ha! ha! ha!
AW THANKS BUT IT'S THE OTHER THUMB i'M WORRIED ABOUT - IT'S A SORT OF KINKY PINK COLOUR.
oOPS MUST HAVE PRESSED THE CAPS BUTTON -arr that's better.
A good bit of fun. I enjoyed the wordplay more than the humor though.
I love both but for me metre is even more important. Thanks Nicholas.
I think probably we have all created such pain by the action of a hammer. The nail is missed and then bang you take a quick glance at a beautiful butterfly passing by and a finger is crucified by it. Well written and well done, but leave the hammer alone for a bit now for recovery of broken fingers and thumbs. I like the poem, but your poor thumb needs a rest up.
I do have green fingers - not sure where the green thumb came from - I've been quite proficient in hitting myself in the past.
Take it steady father thumb.
That thumb OK now? Was it the same one you used to turn caps on by mistake? 'Digit slipped' as some say - or I've heard it day!
Thumb now okay and proffered in an upward direction.
They call him thumby Edwards
He strugles with his sums
He only counts in lots of eight
For he hasn't any thumbs
An apt title Michael... how will you paint now? you're an Octodigitalis
Thanks Andrew - but I've still got 10 toes - . aaargh aaargh - I've still got 9 toes
π π
Michael drop the ruddy axe
No not on you last...
Oh what the hell who needs toes anyway?
I had a green one yesterday
chopped it off with grandads cutter
damn things got a life of its own
it ran off along the gutter.
I do like a light hearted lift amidst the doom and gloom misery of poetic cast offs.
Poetic cast-offs - we are of kindred spirit. Anyone can write poetry but only a poet can writs from the imagination. There are so many who only write as a form of of therapy for their woes and miseries - it does get a tad depressing at times. I open almost every poem posted but in only a few do I get beyond the first few lines..
Michael,
That poor green thumb which I venture to guess is no longer green! π ππ
A fun read. Enjoyed it!
Great art piece! How many of them have you made?
~Laura~
About 50 in all so far - thanks Laura
Wow! How many have you sold?
I've got about 10 left until I make some more.
Hello Michael,
A witty entertaining poem. Wonderful!
Keep writing
FineB
Much obliged FineB
Ha ha ha, loved the wordplay and the humour. Bravo good sir π
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.