The World Cup

The World Cup

Brazil in the year

Two thousand fourteen

It’s touchdown in Rio

For many great teams

There have been so many

Quite glorious saves

Along with a number of 

Mexican waves

The football amazing

So many great goals

And caused by that Suarez

In skin there were holes

And awesome fab players

Like Messi and Neymar

But ones like Tim Howard

Who weren’t on our radar

On Sunday the final

We shall learn who’s best

Well done to Brazil

You’ve sure passed the test

Lions

Lions

If you are on lithium

Then Lion you are

I like science jokes

Be brave like a star

They prowl the savannah

Find tea for their cubs

The name of a lion

Found in many pubs

A fair lonesome creature

Not found making friends

Unless you shall go

To the zoo, tigers blend

Some zoos are quite plenty

Just see what you’ll spy

There’s lions and tigers

And bears, well oh my

So Charli, your poem

‘Bout lions it is

And reference to Dorothy

That wind it did whiz

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

Wimbledon

Wimbledon

So JazzyChick on Twitter, she has challenged me

A poem ‘bout Wimbledon, she has asked to see

She made the suggestion, to try a few rhymes

With the players names, it’s hard, near bedtimes

The winner today, Novak Djokovic

Near two million pounds, he’s better off, rich

On Saturday we saw, the winner Kvitova

Who did play in style, the net she hit over

And poor Andy Murray, knocked out far too soon

Nadal, number two, over him women swoon

The All England Club, is a highlight for tennis

For I prefer running, so I’ll watch Miss Ennis

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

D-Day

D-Day

They shall grow not old, 

For if they are frail,

They gave up their lives

The day they set sail

As we that are left grow old,

To you we salute you,

The bravery back then,

Now shown by so few,

Age shall not weary them,

Emotions still raw,

The freedom to be,

Walk safe out the door,

Nor the years condemn,

Remember bad acts,

The sacrifice given,

The horror and facts,

At the going down of the sun, 

Remember our friends,

The courage they showed,

Our thanks never ends,

And in the morning,

Each day when we wake,

For battles they won, 

We have and eat cake,

We will remember them,

At all times that we can,

Thank you for your service,

I am a free man.

Dear Future Wife

Dear Future Wife

Lay right down beside me,

And tell me your woes,

Together my love,

We shall beat your foes,

We’ll grow old together,

You’re part of my soul,

Heart still skips a beat,

And together we’re whole,

You know that I love you,

The same as I did,

Back all of those years,

When we were just kids,

All cute on the sofa,

I feel your chest rise,

The flicker of angels,

I see in your eyes,

To me you are perfect,

In spite of your flaws,

In love with you baby,

So kiss gaze and pause.

Charli's left big toe

Charli's left big toe

It’s Friday night people,

We’re out on the town,

Well some of us inside,

Behave like a clown,

And one of those people,

Is called CharliBob,

She’s had too much wine,

And become quite a knob,

She’s set me a challenge,

To write her some lines,

Her big toe the topic,

The left one defined,

We know that it’s painted,

And pink is the shade,

From status of robot,

I know she has strayed,

And now she is dancing,

She’s simply the best,

Controls all the men,

With her lovely chest.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

Snooker

Snooker

The green baize’s awaiting,

All neatly laid out,

Rob Walker announces,

The crowd starts to shout,

The twenty two balls,

All set to be played,

I wonder how big,

The breaks will be made,

And JV has told us,

There’s always a gap,

So careful now Ronnie,

It just needs a tap,

He’s high on the blue,

Goes into the pack,

And gets a nice split,

Soon back to the black,

The whispers of Dennis,

I like him the best,

The next shot’s a tough one,

He will need the rest,

This sport is my favourite,

It brings me much joy,

With Hazel, the boys,

Settle down and enjoy.

Kittens

Kittens

Producing lots of ooh’s and aah’s,

They really are so sweet,

The kittens of the internet,

For us they are a treat,

To have your own and see them play,

It’s really very nice,

But not so much when they bring you,

Some manky dead old mice,

I don’t know what they’re feeding you,

It’s probably not your fault,

You’ll always be a smelly cat,

But less so when you malt,

They’ll give you so much love and joy,

And ask for little back,

Except first thing when morning comes,

They need their stroke and snack,

These tiny cats that are so cute,

And usually really daft,

Cos kittens I will always love,

For many times I’ve laughed.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.

International Space Station

International Space Station

To gaze up high into night skies

Wait for the dot to fill my eyes

I’ve checked online to know the time

And look out west, begins its climb

Perched neatly by the window up

Two thirty miles it’s that close-up

I wave at them do they wave too?

In 90 mins again they’re due

What’s going on up there right now?

I’m sure it starts with the word “Wow”

This small bright light in the night sky

‘Til next time guys I shall say bye

Explanation

If you ever watch the International Space Station go over your house, you'll (hopefully) relate to this poem.

Xylophones

Xylophones

This guy called David Angell,

He came to challenge me,

A poem about xylophones,

From me he wants to see,

It’s quite a funny sounding word,

Big scrabble points be found,

And did you know it comes from Greek,

The words mean wooden sound,

They’re known for being played so well,

Sir Patrick Moore was right,

To make sure he did play it lots,

When not on sky at night,

This is a quirky instrument,

And plays a funky tune,

Do hope this poem pleases you,

I feel like quite a loon.

Explanation

This is another case of someone challenging me to write a poem. Blame the internet. If you want to suggest any to me, just tweet me @philverney.