[John Whitworth]

Chris, your post is a joy.

[Jerome Betts]

From Verrucaria Maura to Parmelia Saxatilis

[Douglas G. Brown]

"someone with a McGonagall-esque degree of cluelessness..."

Chris,

This would explain the names of countless American beauty parlors and hair styling salons.

But, perhaps there is a chance for traditional Junior High School bad taste;

Boogersnot Sandwich

A “natural-living” neurotic
Deplored any foodstuffs sucrotic;
“I would rather eat boogers
Than ingest any sugars!”
(By the way, she was far from erotic.)

[Jerome Betts]

The Non-Universality of E.U. Common Fisheries Policies

Their land-locked locations mean Slovaks and Czechs
Can avoid turgid papers on gurnard and trawls
Or long bitter wrangles re buoying of wrecks
Laced with mind-numbing reams of marine Euro-balls.

[Graham King]

One hundred came after a hundred-and-one:
As a child I was sure of this fact.
My counting there erred, although truly begun;
It seemed odd how my Dad would react.

I’d count up this way, proud, intent, having fun:
“…Ninety-eight, ninety-nine,” (NOT One Hundred,
The next I’d recite, but) “a Hundred-and-one,”
(I didn’t perceive I had blundered),

Inordinately, I’d “a Hundred!” continue
(Misplaced by one space – just a titch!)
And follow thereafter “A Hundred-and-two...”
- At which my dear Father would twitch.

It seemed quite self-evident, every time:
The numbers fell into that sequence, see?
They tripped off my tongue in a rhythm sublime!
Poor Pa glazed at this rote’s nightly frequency.

(A true story! And a question: should I ditch the capitals on numerals - wherever they are not standard - or do those contribute to the flavour?)

[Roger Slater]

Considering Belly Button Lint

Umbilical cords, when they're snipped,
Can leave behind bellies equipped
With a space, if you squint,
Where you can see lint,
Though it's otherwise quite nondescript.

[RCL]

A Hairy End

Tweezing the hair from my imposing nose,
I know where the hair from my head now grows.

Trimming my chin hair, now turned yellow,
I see that I am a ripening fellow.

Clipping my crotch hair, lank and grizzled,
I grasp that libido has finally fizzled!

Thinning my brows, the chicks I eye
Hold up a sign: Geezers Need Not Apply!

[Roger Slater]

Another version of a title I used above. I think it's a children's poem.


COUNTING TO INFINITY

Counting to infinity
is difficult to do
since every time you reach the point
when you believe you're through

the final number that you think
must mean you now are done
can be a higher number if
you add the words "and one."

So listen to my wise advice:
I tell you that it's better a
plan to simply count to ten
and then to say et cetera.

[Brian Allgar]

If you can count from one up to infinity,
Though friends may think you’re crazy as they chortle,
You’ll still be counting when they’re in the cemetary,
And - which is more, my son - you’ll be immortal.

[John Whitworth]

Yeah, Roger. Good poem and good title. That's the crux of it.