The Mona & Groaner

He had to go and done it - mix our home and 'new' antiques
He's what you call a bit 'très graves', while I'm more tongue-in-cheek

Disorganisation is my throttle to his cool
Hearty, smarty, artifacts V everybody's fool

Then through the door he battled with a print of ten by ten
I feared I'd never see that sticky fingered wall again!

Ms. Mona ruddy Lisa, with her beady little stare
All that secrecy and numbers...who gives a hoot if they are there?

She stalls our guests for ages, champagne warming in the glass
(Just pop a straw into that flute for an extra bit of class!).

Gee, she isn't pretty (if she's a she at all)
Who'd give her a second glance - umbrella of the ball.

Yet, still they flock to see her - these madmen of the Louvre
And all she does is sit there (La un-sequential oeuvre)

I hear her sigh most twilights, keeping me from slumber
Biddy eyes that steal your gaze - a masterpiece encumber

She's hung out in the guest room, the basement and the hall
Getting goggled at by everyone with 'oohs' and 'aaahs'  and alls.

She's clashed with all my glitters, this pinnacle of pain
I've prayed to God I'd never see that 'maybe' smile again!

What hold does one so haughty,  have over Banksy's best?
Davinci felt like he's da-man, in silent-strokes behest?

I've often thought about it - her demise - quite unrefined
(A dart board and some arrows were the first to come to mind.)

Seems I'm stuck with her for ever - oily, spoily lady muck
Had her mouth been grinning ear-to-ear, who'd give a flying .................

Battle Of The Exes

"Come..." enticed the meager, with a sarky little smile.
'Trust me not' she said inside, with accurate beguile.
Spider's web in corners, heart laden with a stomp
A face that would have fitted better, rising from a swamp


Cackling without the need to part her cracking lips
Fighting heart-to-mother's-soul, this pretty girl eclipse
Visualising bloodshed, never lest forget
Preparations now in lieu against this bannerette!


Her pride, her joy , her soldier, fairer than the day itself
Begot and could preserve him, stored upon forever's shelf
A battle for supremacy, a message not on cloth
While her cornered lips contentiously build up a daring froth

Outside the battle rages on, in fiery resolution
While a battle's reign begins inside, culled rapid dissolution
She shall not rest until his shield, swings her hair as its tassel
No nymph will ever lure her prince, his duty from this castle

Begone young love, no happy ending leads to battles blown
Swords that lance, more bubbles burst than bloodshed for the throne
Delivering full frontal moves, a man for lesser hung
For what good would a shiltron be, when mother has a tongue? 

Get To 'F'

Fridgey Friday.....This week's F-ing find!

                            Now, that is one very cool little guy!

Hoots! To The Irish In Me!

(When I saw the shamrock it took me straight back to my old dad and his tales! Always the joker. He always said that I had Irish blood somewhere in there due to my thick, golden-red hair and pale, pale skin. This one's for you, dad!)

 My father sat combing my long golden hair
Fresh from the bathroom was I
"I've a secret to tell you", he said with a frown
I let out a worrying sigh

'What is it, dad?" I asked at his side
I gulped and my heart raced in horror.
"I'm not who you think I am, dear, sweet, Ellie."
"I'm greener than tartan,... begorrah."

"I was born in the woodlands in Ireland, my dear
"Though I sound very Scottish indeed..."
"I'm a leprechaun - magical - turned into man
...but I'm from the same enchanted breed!"

"Why do you think that I do disappear?"
"For a week, from the 17th March?
I have to go home and meet all me mates!"
"Have a drink, for all Ireland's then parched!"

I tutted and picked up the comb from the floor
And handed it to him again
"Just get out the tangles and stop all this stuff!"
He went in to his giggling feign.

"I'll tell you why, you manic old man....
We all have some Irish love in us..!!
"But you're back from the pub with Paddy O'Nair
"And you're both tanked up well on the Guiness!"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
And to further blend the Celtic in us....an Irish tribute from my favourite Scottish duo: Sean by The Proclaimers  (listening optional)

Get To 'F'

Furry Friday.....This week's F-ing find!  How a banana left on my son's window's sill would eventually look....

(Don't) Roll Me Over, In The (Garlic) Clover

(This entry is dedicated to my hubby. A garlic fiend but he now only goes nuts with it a few times a year - or else!)

You know that I love you - well - most of the time
Though our interests differ from the weak to sublime
You put up with my shit, I put up with yours
Defended each other, slammed many a door

Both tried and both tested, a team set on high
Till the nightmare begins with one sniff and a sigh
You sneaked in the garlic - fume of a phantom
Twelve cloves up the arse of a poor little bantam!

The pull of the garlic, satisfyingly strong
Teasing you men with a passion forlorn
But who gives a hoot to the women immersed
Subjected to breathing in all that she cursed!

Over-dozed dinners that brought me to tears
Offensively falling out over the years
If I asked you to sleep in a room gunged with vomit
You'd be out of there, gone - shoot off like a comet!

The garlic, enticer, a cheap little whore
Her perfume soon raging from every pore
No cologne, scented candle, eau de from above
Takes away the full might of one single clove

It plummets my heart, puts my nostrils through sorrow
You swallowing roast cloves like there's no tomorrow
Hark! To the 'lic with it's Biblical mention
Can't believe this small culprit gets all that attention

Oh and, yes, I do know what 'medicinal' plus is
Quite frankly, I'm lost as to what all the fuss is!
I'll never consider it over it's station
I'll continue to manage (sniff) in moderation.

Look - it can fend off fierce vampires, banish bad luck
Be the best of the bestest, I don't give a puck
You're not sharing my bed, nor breathe in my room
For 48hrs - not a moment too soon......!!

Get To 'F'

 Each week I go on a cyber hunt to find a picture starting with/or under the category of the letter  'F'  so today is Fishbowl Friday and this rather old pic popped up again. Still makes me smile, though!

Shrove Blooded Tuesday

 This week's prompt conjured up pancakes via the fork and lemon and as Pancake Day is not long away either I felt it apt. The 'blood' inspired me to take this historic little trip................

Say nae to manners, a kingdom inquiet
Where the crux of the day seeks the thrill of the riot
Custom be tying a cock to the stake
Where they'd throw coksteles, hear their little bones break

Gave up on decent, to give up for Lent
Masses outwith Him, scathed and Hell-bent 
Shriller than birdsong, a whisper aloud
Whose piety slinks through the gaps in the crowd.

Loose tongues a lollop their sins from the pit
11a.m. sparked the start of the flit
A passionate penance, of shame and of brawn
24 hours later, vestige has all gone

Shroving on Tuesday till Ash taketh over
And sees home morality from the marauder
Keeping them fuelled on this moronic day 
Was the golden supply to this hungry soiree

Tossing them, flipping, the sizzle of butter
A mangle of taut tongues, so anxious to utter
No mercy given, no truth untold
What a tasty transgression for one to uphold