Runny nose poem

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RED, RED NOSE
O my Love’s like my red, red nose,  
That’s newly sprung in June;  
O my Love’s like an allergy,  
That helps us snore in tune.  

Now you’re so cool, my bony lass, 
But so deep in snot am I; 
And I will love you still, my dear, 
Till all my sinuses go dry. 

Till all my sinuses go dry, my dear, 
And we can have some fun; 
But I will love you still, my dear, 
When again my nose does run. 

So see you soon my only Love, 
And see you, for a while!  
And I will come again, my Love, 
With one big snotty smile! 

(Author’s note: Apologies to Robert Burns for the take on his poem ‘Red, Red Rose’)

© Neil Dufty

At a Barnes & Noble

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I met her at a Barnes & Noble
I was young, she was much older
Coo-coo-ca-choo, she behind a folder
Our eyes then met, and I told her
I’m looking for a book
At a Barnes & Noble

We made love in a Barnes & Noble
It happened in the non-fiction section
Between Religion or History on reflection
No one noticed, no detection
Only the books saw the action 
At a Barnes & Noble

We were married at a Barnes & Noble
It was literally a fine celebration
Filled with friends and the odd relation
Books and us – the ultimate creation
Books hailed our matrimony
At a Barnes & Noble

Our children live in a Barnes & Noble
Reading books is our only pastime
Other kids play Xbox, games of that kind
But this line I’m struggling to rhyme
I will get the answer
At a Barnes & Noble

This poem is brought to you
By Barnes & Noble
‘Book a Life’
At a Barnes & Noble.

© Neil Dufty

A light at the end of the tunnel

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When the darkness is so overwhelming,
Look to the stars above for some hope,
The glow in the eyes of a child playing,
Helping the mind restore and to cope.

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel,
A hope to help lift us from despair,
A hole for water to escape a funnel,
Letting us out when the world’s unfair.

You will enter a place of still solitude,
Peace and quiet, solace from all the din,
To get there you’ll need to show fortitude,
As this nirvana you will find is within.

© Neil Dufty

Perfection

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You caught my eye as 
I ran on by

I doubled back to 
take a look

And in the shop you 
peered at me

Statuesque, perfect 
in every way.

Like Bo Derek in 10
a vision splendid

Such style, such elegance
a Sophia Loren

The curves, the contours
Angelina Jolie

But then I noticed you
did not move.

© Neil Dufty

Old Hall

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We came from near and from far,
To the hall at the end of the tar, 
To dance to Frank and his band,
Far from war in another land.

We waltzed long into the night,
Till night gave way to first light,
Two tops in a twirl and a spin,
We danced with aplomb and a grin.

We joined as one in barn dance,
Chance to romance and to prance,
We thought our life was just made,
No chance of the bombs from a raid.

We slipped to the back of the hall,
None saw our stealth and our gall,
Not to think of whether we should,
We carved our love into the wood.

the floor has sprung
boarded windows clatter
in wind like a percussion solo
rats scuttle to their pit
battered paint peels
uncovering
‘Albie loves Essie’

a developer eyes the structure
‘Yeah, it’s a knockdown mate’.

© Neil Dufty

A poem about cows and climate change

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A CHANGE IS IN THE WIND
Belch! 

They’re watching us, these things called humans
Pens out, monitoring our rumens
Cows no fun

Pointing their fingers, shuffling their sheets
Murmuring about the planet’s heat
Cows help sun

Worried faces, showing their petulance
About our burps and our flatulence
Cows need bung

Uttering words, most common ‘methane’
Hoping cows would kindly refrain
Cow’s bad bum

With a gut like a still, our only torment
Grass sloshes around, slow ferment
Cow’s big drum

Big cows with balls are the worst offenders
Blame males, that’ll help defend us
Cows well hung

They think it’s best to fit us with gas masks 
Give us new grass to stop the farts
Cow’s new tum

They’ll want us to dispose of our very own cow pats
Placing them into underground vats
Cows no dung

See they carve us up or milk us bone dry
Now they say we make all things fry
Cows hard done

And we’re so over all their bovine jokes
Go away, pick on some ‘udder’ folk  
Cow bad pun 

And don’t they belch things out, that’s a fact
What’s spewing from that factory stack?
Cows not dumb

See all we want to do is chew our cud
Moo, poo, trudge though the mud 
Cows hum drum

So it’s over, all of this crap is enough
We’re taking a stand, getting so tough
Cows done fun

Let’s fight for ruminant freedom
Run with the buffalo, the sheep
Let’s herd together, fight to the end
Cows are one

Let’s stampede the Golden Arches
Go on long protest marches
Fight on beaches and on pastures
Even take to air in the fastest
Cow Top Gun

And now the end is very near
The day that all of us cattle fear
The last to the abattoir is to be tanned
Our fight was called ‘Muster’s Last Stand’
Cows out gunned

So if this story shocks, scares and amazes
That we Daisies could be ‘pushing up daisies’
Next time you question our windy emissions
Consider the risk of milk and meat omissions
Cow’s life done

(Author’s note: It is reported that ruminants, including cows, are directly responsible for 6.3% of anthropogenic global warming. Apologies to Dana Lyons for using some ideas from his song ‘Cows with Guns’)

© Neil Dufty

A poem on Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus

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SHE:HE
You never show me any emotion
I’m always showing you devotion
You do not even know how to try
What do you want me to do? Cry?
You so do not really understand
Hey, I am only trying to be a man
A nice gift, a little kiss on the lips
What’s the problem? We go on trips
Surprise me, be romantic, my honey
I know, you want more of my money
Wait, there’s someone I’ve got to text
Let’s go and have wild, passionate sex
You’re always trying to get me into bed
Now you’re really playing with my head
At least the girls they will shop with me
And the boys they let me feel so free
This long discussion is going so nowhere
It’s an argument, you’re not being fair
You’re shirty, you’ll now give me the snub
That’s right, I’m off now down to the pub.

I’m sorry, here are flowers to show I care
Flowers, that’s a change, so very rare
Can we kiss, make up, and get some food?
Long as it’s not make out, not in the mood
Let’s call it a truce? I will be there for you
And I will try to accept you for being you.

© Neil Dufty

The Tree-changers

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In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy (and Nancy)
Gone a winemaking up to Mudgee where all the tree-changers go,
Or are they doing permaculture? Not just sure of their fancy,
Only their life has pleasures that the city folk never know.

I am sitting in my dingy office in the dusty, dirty city,
Listening to meaningless talks from the next door jerk, 
Oops, I’ve missed another deadline, oh what a pity! 
Now to head home on trains that rarely ever work.

And I somehow fancy that I’d like to change with Clancy (and Nancy),
Have a home among the gum trees where the seasons come and go,
But I guess they’ll be out there till they go to ‘greener’ pastures,
And I’ll stay where I am and watch my in-tray overflow.

(Author’s note: Apologies to Australian poet Banjo Paterson for using some lines from ‘Clancy of the Overflow’)

© Neil Dufty

The joys of being an older runner

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Why do we? Why do we go back for more?
Perspiration pouring out like an artesian bore,
Groans in our bones, aches for goodness sakes,
The finish out of sight, this is what it takes.

Are we all masochists or are we just silly?
(I wish this darned course wasn’t that hilly!)
‘Fun run’: an oxymoron if ever there was one!
I’m sure this race has well and truly been won.

But I remember the day, the day of my PB,
It was so, so easy, I got a running stress freebie,
I felt virile, vibrant, young, I ran without fear,
The only thing, I can’t even remember the year.

Will I now walk? My legs they feel like rubber,
I’m a whale beached, heavy weight and all blubber,
No, no, I can’t give in to this easy walk option
Which seduces me like some sensuous siren.

And now one last strain as I cross the finish line,
I’ll sit down, catch my breath, then I’ll feel fine,
Then talk to the others, make up all the excuses,
And ask, ‘Do you know any good masseuses?’

Then home to start on the long road to recover,
Apply some ice, pop a pill, maybe then another,
But whatever the weather, if it’s hot, wet or cold,
We will all be back, as good as gold, or just old.

© Neil Dufty