A Medley of Poetry

The Jogger

He was a part-time Jogger

A lonely footpath slogger

Just for a lark

He headed to Olympic Park

To make his mark.

 

There was no-one to race

So he sets an easy pace

He does one circuit

And feels quite perfect

He felt no strain, so went again.

 

When he hears from behind a runner,

Oh! It’s a blonde haired stunner!

As she passes him by

She catches his eye.

Thinking he’d like to flirt

He puts on a mighty spurt

Keen in the chase

He shows a cracking pace.

 

She runs with such ease

He’s weak at the knees.

His heart begins to pound

Can he go another round?

 

Wow, it’s Tamsin Lewis,

Her speed was fit to slew us.

He’s nothing left

And out of breath.

He begins to weep

And collapsed in a heap.

 

As her ponytail begins to sway

She’s getting further and further away.

So up he jumps

And off he pumps.

He must get past her,

He runs even faster.

He’s reeling her in

And is going to win!

 

When he wakes with a jerk

Now he’s fully alert.

He could scream!

The win was just a dream.

He looks up with a sigh

Into her glorious blue eyes.

She says with a grin

Smiling down at him.

“That was fun

I enjoyed our run.

Let’s do it again tomorrow.”

 

He thinks about tomorrow with dread

But the answer lies in his garden shed.

He has the means to defy her,

He becomes a bicycle rider.

 

The bicycle rider

 

He was a bicycle rider

Until he had a flat tyre,

He felt such a dill

As he pushed it up the hill

When the girl he did admire

Cycled by on her red flyer

Followed closely by her boyfriends

All dressed in the latest trends.

When he walked the bike back home,

Did he hear a snigger from that garden gnome?

Now he’s tired and footsore

And more crestfallen than before.

Did he ever stand a chance

Of a little Lycra romance?

But by tomorrow

He’ll be over his sorrow

Now he’s a champion motor biker.

 

The Motor bike and the Ute

Now he’s a motor biker

All dressed in leather.

He hopes to get raunchy

Down in the heather.

 

But the boys at the Local

They call him a Yokel

And the girls all laugh

At his uninked arms

Ignoring his manly charms.

 

You beaut!

He”s bought a Ute.

The girls can take a hike

And forget the bikes.

For beside him sits his Blue Heeler

Who’s better than any sheila.

 

But he must walk his doggie

So he takes up jogging.

You may laugh

As he pounds the footpath

To see he’s come full circle.

 

 

For more of my poetry follow this link

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About BeesKnees2013

Interested in family history research.
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