The rule for fractions when you’re young?
It’s two-thirds’ brains
And one-third tongue
Tongue Twister
Category: comedy
Tumbler Grumbler
The pessimist with half a glass
Sees no point being gleeful
While optimists will always ask
If theirs comes with a refill
Beeline
The honey bee performs a dance
Which indicates the vector
Its friends should fly to find those plants
Providing the best nectar.
With six legs that’s no easy feat
And so, to overcome it
To keep the message short and sweet
The less adroit just hum it.
Captain’s Log
Sir Francis Drake had what it takes
To sail around the world
And followed in Magellan’s wake
With England’s flag unfurled.
Along his route he plundered loot
Until the hold was packed
With millions from Brazilians
And the Spaniards he attacked.
On his return, the English yearned
To learn of far off places
Of queens and perils unforeseen
And men with painted faces.
Bess knighted Francis on his ship
While desperately hoping
He’d share his tips for crispy chips
And how to blow a smoke ring.
Soon after he was off again
And set sail heading west
But Fortune soon abandoned him
In this, his final quest.
Sir Francis survived cannon balls
And arrows tipped with poison
But in the end, when Nature called
It ravaged then destroyed him
For dysentery killed our man
Then almost caused a shipwreck
That’s why they sealed him in a can
And christened it the poop deck
2B or not 2B
The brains behind the pencil
Made his mark which we commend
But smarter still’s his wife
Who stuck a rubber on the end
Pyramid Schemer
Of Cleopatra it was said
Her loves were so prolific
Recording all their antics led
To six new hieroglyphics
Spiky Profiles
Porcupines, when making love
Must meet at the right juncture
For, any variation of
Results in acupuncture
Comet me, Bro!
“Trump’s building a Death Star,” Laverne announced whilst reloading. “Good for him.”
“For building a Death Star?”
“For keeping busy during lockdown.”
“Is it a family affair?”
“He’ll fly it and Melania’s going to serve the drinks.
“I imagine there’ll be a launch…”
“By invitation only in the Space Force Lounge at Mar-A-Lago Int’l Airport.”
“Tickets won’t be cheap.”
“You could just buy a hat.”
“There’s a Space Force hat?”
“And a ring.”
“How do you know all this?” I was amazed.
“Forewarned is forearmed,” Laverne replied coolly, smelling the air. “They’re coming for us, so you and me need a plan.”
“Two tickets?”
“One-way.”
“I just have one question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you firing anchovies into that tree with a catapult?”
“Because the squirrel currently residing in it ripped open our garbage bags during the night and left a putrid mess for me to clean up this morning.”
“And?”
“Two can play that game, my friend. Now get me Mar-a-Lago on the blower because he’s going to need a Rear Gunner.”
Pour Decisions
I wouldn’t write whilst drunk
Because those thoughts we’ve sometimes thunk
Mixed with suspicions twice distilled
Much like one’s drink, ought not be spilled
A Sine of Genus
Imagine sitting by a lake
And wondering what it would take
To calculate the area
The formula would scare ya.
Or, fancy while beneath a tree
You’re struck by thoughts of gravity
Quite tough with which to grapple
Whilst snacking on an apple.
Or, say you’re watching tortoises
When what you start to notice is
Through clever adaptation
They’ve dodged annihilation.
Imagine peering into space
Amazed how it all hangs in place
Then arguing dark matter
Might make the cosmos scatter.
Great minds considered these and more
From ancient Greece to Ecuador
This group of geeks is quite well-versed
At sorting out our universe.
What theorem might I devise?
Am I not wise? There is some doubt
For I’ve just only realised
You close the fridge, the light goes out…
Mr Ormsby At Large 