some more fun

please feel free to comment ha ha

Wonder bra


I been walking round the town and looking in shops,

Seeing all the offers for sale leaning on props,

When I came across a model simply thread bare,

Wasn’t much to look at as it just stood there?

But the sign hanging round her neck said it all,

This is the bra that will let nothing fall,

It will lift you up so that everyone can see,

A bosom intact leaving you smiling carefree,

It will separate your breasts showing each individual one,

Hanging low and loose your embarrassment gone,

It matters not how small you might be,

But this brazier will set your chest free,

It won’t cause concern if you’re a little too big,

Not like others into your lower back to dig,

No this bra is not for the faint of heart,

As it lifts and separates holding your assets apart,

As the model displayed those firm standing breasts,

Stood in that window I thought put it to a test,

Ask a few lads what they thought of this brazier,

Oh it lifts and separates have no fear,

But there are times when you try to unhook it from the back,

But when your hand gets round the front there’s not much craic,

All the lift and separation seems to vanish in a flash,

Sometimes the bosoms hit the floor with a crash,

In the height of excitement as you tremble with fear,

You open the bra and there’s no bosom there,

How you to get this wonder for women open is no mean feat,

You’re left there thinking women practice deceit,

And they wonder why men stand there talking to their chests,

They are trying to figure out are they real these two breasts,

They may as well look at that model stood there all day on show,

Almost naked in the window with no where to go,

As I stood there looking eating my bag of chips,

I thought bosoms are just like lucky dips,

All said and done they will be put on display,

This wonder bra fools the young men of today,

What you find is they are real or sometimes they’re fake,

Having gotten over the thrill it’s a chance all men will take.

17 Feb. 12

Sibling rivalry


I have 12 siblings and that makes a dozen,

I also have an awful lot I call cousin,

But 12 siblings sisters and brothers,

I used to think they all had different mothers,

There were 7 before me and 5 after that,

Leaving me in the middle in a ballynanty flat,

I started a life which was always a struggle,

I was never a part of those siblings huddle,

I became a loner in this group of thirteen,

Always around but rarely was I seen,

I was best friend to all but loyal to one,

I was what mattered those others were for fun,

So I played with their heads to get what I wanted,

Not very often was I the one, who was confronted,

I was the peacemaker, who calmed every row,

Somewhere I’d find a solution somehow,

While on bended knee as the mother would pray,

If there was a fight go ask him he knows what to say,

When a fix wasn’t found and of shouts I had enough,

Well I’d bang heads together because I had to be tough,

To this very day as I begin my fiftieth year,

My siblings older and younger call me in fear,

When they need a solution and the have tried all the other’s,

They pick up the phone and call on their brother,

So I devised a new plan to help with their fights,

And make them refrain from all of their plights,

Whoever would call and ask for my advice,

I would take the other ones side it wasn’t so nice,

It didn’t matter to me who was right or who’s wrong,

I’d heard it before sure twas the same old ding dong,

And when they’d berate me for saying things that were true,

I’d reply I’ve 12 siblings I can live without one or two,

Divorce doesn’t have to be between man and wife,

With 12 of ye I can live without a few in my life,

So if you have to row with you’re siblings anytime of the year,

Do so but let me be absolutely clear,

When you dial my number and ask me to be nice,

If you don’t like what I say don’t ask me for advice.

17 Feb. 12

poetry for fun -1/1

latest attempt at a smile

A bone of contention


Being born into a large family is not what I’d call fun,

But I was and that life soon enough had me on the run,

For if you were just a few minutes late for a meal,

Then someone older or younger then you that food would steal,

Breakfast was always a race to the table,

Winter was porridge for those who were able,

Summer would be flakes of one kind or another,

And there was our referee of 13 kids our mother,

Now having been born into the middle of this fine clan,

It was eat or go hungry and for meal’s we all ran,

For dare you be late when the mother dished it from the pot,

We lied saying someone had got theirs when they’d not,

Just to get more on your dish which held dinner?

Some of the young ones went hungry they were only beginner’s,

I had an older sister, who would always need more,

She had elbows that would knock your ass on the floor,

I just had to come up with a plan slow her down,

So us younger ones stood a chance knock her smile into a frown,

It was the day of the offal in stew with some soup,

As we gathered at the table all 13 of this group,

When this older sister had cleaned her whole plate,

What I had planned was to forever seal her fate,

I took the bone she had cleaned and left empty of meat,

And placed it firmly in her slipper under her feet,

And as she knocked us small kids all out of her way,

When she leaned back in her triumph the pain made her sway,

She screamed in agony with all of her might,

And while they tended to her cut feet pondering her plight,

To the pot I went without waiting in line,

And filled my bowl to the brim my belly was doing fine,

What mother wanted to know was how the bone got in her shoe,

She hides them there mother to make a fool out of you,

She pushes us younger kids all away to one side,

But this time she forgot in her shoe the bones hide,

And as she tried to get more then was rightfully her share,

If the rest of us starved then she didn’t care,

She screamed at me then something that was unreal,

As I told her in my queue each of us had to heel,

Be mindful as you give those younger then you some stick,

Take your time when next you have a bone to pick.

12/02/12

Valentines me arse


So it was Valentines Day and I have a complaint,

Why do women not try show the slightest restraint?

You don’t see men dropping hints all over the place,

Looking for flowers and chocolates to shove in their face,

Nor do you see them in groups with gifts to compare,

They don’t ask for much from you all to be fair,

But dare he come home on this day not showing his devotion,

Displaying his undying love with true emotion,

He may as well call himself Christ and suffer the loss,

For his woman will nail his ass to the cross,

For this day has become one of fear and dread,

For all living men who wish to keep their head,

Because women need to know that men care,

And want to believe that their man is sincere,

But men cannot win or gain any ground,

No matter what a man does he will be wrong I have found,

If he buy’s her flowers on his way home from work,

He is up to something look at him smirk,

If he gives her chocolates after Sunday lunch,

She says all men are snakes the whole bloody bunch,

But what does a man get on Valentines Day,

After all the gifts for which he’s had to pay,

A smile if he’s lucky when he greets his fair maid,

And if she believes him he might even get laid,

When did it become a day for just women?

Why did we allow it from the very beginning?

I blame pope gelasius (496 ad) for naming this day

In 1969 pope Paul VI deleted it giving men their say,

But the real culprit is that Geoffrey Chaucer for our plight,

In the high middle ages he made this day his plight,

And made it a day of courtly love with gifts exchanged,

It’s a one way street for women now that’s Whats changed,

So here’s my complaint on this day of valentine,

Partners in love should show it to each other all of the time,

No man should have to go shop and for his love pay,

A few well chosen words saying I love you each day,

So let’s get rid of this day we call the feast of valentine,

We don’t need gifts to say I’m yours or your mine.

14/02/12

Christy O 'Donnell

new poems

My cling on


Growing up on the north side of limerick was great,

And for most things we had to do we were usually a bit late,

But we soon discovered that the busses ran right by our street,

The bus company had routes we saw all of their fleet,

But we never could afford a lift every day,

There was just no money and we simply couldn’t pay,

So when we needed a lift to get home for our chores,

We used to cling on to the handle of the doors,

And hold on for dear life as the bus made its way round,

And let go only when we were on familiar ground,

Now the brother and myself never saw eye to eye,

And when we got together sparks would always fly,

He was older then me but I was learning real fast,

His bullying tactics were fading and wouldn’t last,

It happened one day as I ran to the bus to cling on the back,

He leaned on my handle and gave me an unmerciful crack,

I tumbled from my spot and went rolling on the street,

Crying and hurt I had scraped both of my elbows and feet,

It hurt for days and I found it so hard to walk,

When my father asked what happened I wouldn’t talk,

Some weeks later I had recovered from my spill,

But of the older brother boy I’d had my fill,

I waited for days as he ran for his clinger on the bus,

Pretending that my fall wasn’t a bother or fuss,

Then I saw my chance to get even with my dear brother,

I gave him the elbow as hard as he gave me the other,

Flying he went into the middle of the road,

Under an oncoming truck that had emptied its load,

The driver hit the brakes to avoid this child rolling like a ball

No matter what he did under the front wheel he did fall,

Now with his leg firmly broken in the hospital he laid,

He told all and sundry of me he was afraid,

That I did it on purpose pushed him under the truck,

And that I was a danger to all I ought to be locked up,

But he learned a valuable lesson on that very day,

For the rest of his life if he crossed me he’d pay,

After all just because he was 5 whole years older,

Didn’t mean at 9 years of age I couldn’t be bolder,

It did mean however that if a bully he should meet,

He would call his young brother and the bully got beat.

2 February 2012


Sandwiches


I could never recall why I was always sent to my room,

Usually it was with good reason as I was often out of tune,

I was always up to mischief of one kind or another,

A constant source of torment to my poor old mother,

In any case, locked into my bedroom and grounded for a week,

While there I would constantly give her plenty of cheek,

The father decided that I would sleep when he went to bed,

And the only time I would eat was when he was fed,

And so I arose each morning when he got up for work,

Had breakfast and was given chores that I dare shirk,

And put back in my cage for the rest of the day,

Locked in there with nothing to eat drink or play,

As the father would say you will learn your lesson,

And stop all this mischief and mayhem and messing,

He warned all the family I was to be avoided, a must,

And dare one of them go against him, break his trust,

So with nothing to eat locked in my room with a view,

Sure I threw things at the neighbours I had naff all to do,

One of the sisters had made toasted sandwiches that smelled fine

And grabbed a fishing pole and tied them to the end of the line,

But both windows opened in the same right handed direction,

And she had trouble trying with me to make a connection,

And the father would be due home as it was getting a bit late,

If he saw her trying to feed me then both of us would be bate,

Sure enough there he was watching from the side of the road,

And she dropped the bounty and both our hearts slowed,

He stormed into the house and his temper had flared,

As she took flight I barred the door pretty scared,

He caught her and made her sit on one of the kitchen chairs,

And called me to join them from the room upstairs,

What will I do with ye for this act of transgression,

As we both spoke in gibberish relaying our confession,

His big army belt lay on the table that day,

Get out he said with yer fishing for sandwiches go play,

And stay out of trouble and mind out on the road,

Remember always test your line before you try to land your load.

06/02/12

HDV_0021.MP4 fund raiser

HDV 0025

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fre fall

it might appear that i threw my sister out the window but this is not true just so you know ha ha


Free fall


We lived in the high flats in the north side of the city,

There was myself 2 brothers and 10 sisters all pretty,

The older ones were always busy with school or a job,

To stop the mother moaning shut her ould gob,

15 of us in that flat with not much to keep us occupied,

The truth long since lost and yet none of us lied,

It had 4 bedrooms one of which was quite small,

And breakfast was a nightmare when the mother would call,

It was a dash down the stairs which sounded like thunder,

Then she’d count us all hoping not to make a blunder,

When the weather was too bad for us kids to go play,

Inside the high flats playing hide n seek we’d stay,

And with twelve of us hiding all over the house,

Not wanting to be found all as quiet as a mouse,

It was I, who was seeker on this wet and cold day,

I had found eleven there was one left astray,

And I searched the place looking high and low,

Frustration set in where that youngest could go,

Then I saw her behind the curtain on the upstairs window sill,

I thought I’d found all twelve oh what a thrill,

Gotcha I shouted as I pulled that curtain to one side,

Nowhere in this house from me can you hide,

Between the noise from the rest and me with a shout,

The window opened wide and she was gone she fell out,

She flew passed the mother as she washed up at the sink,

And hit the ground below before any of us could blink,

Panic and mayhem followed as we all ran to find,

She was sitting crying in the grass on her behind,

The old man living underneath nearly died with the fright,

Looking up at the opened window and then her what a sight,

She came home from the hospital in no less then four hours,

And we all were thankful for she was still one of ours,

When the old fella came by to see how she was the next day,

He asked mother would it have been better to just let us go play,

Not just open that window and throw the youngest girl out,

For god sake woman what was that all about?

It was him she said pointing at me in the chair,

When he pulled back the curtains she just wasn’t there.

29.01.2012