h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

[from the archives]

They say mules are smarter than horses.
They're used a lot in the armed forces.
They rarely are feral,
For most are quite sterile.
I've learned this from various sources.

[also form the archives]


The elves gave old Santa a gift.
They hope it will give him a lift.
It keeps the blood warm,
Is good in a storm,
And melts the occasional drift.
(Hint: it contains some alcohol)

It is going to be wet and windy
for everyone in Europe and UK.
Especially those live by the sea
who won't be using their sleigh.
It will be rain, rain, rain
and storms that will become the norm.
Rain will begin their reign
where the weather will become lukewarm.
It will be will be wild and mild
bringing in a frightful rainfest.
Our snow and frost will then become exiled.

I missed the last line.

It is going to be wet and windy
for everyone in Europe and UK.
Especially those live by the sea
who won't be using their sleigh.
It will be rain, rain, rain
and storms that will become the norm.
Rain will begin their reign
where the weather will become lukewarm.
It will be will be wild and mild
bringing in a frightful rainfest.
Our snow and frost will then become exiled
because of the arrival of the pest from the West.

Loki's the evil brother of Thor.
His plots are grandiose and mean.
There's not a lot there to adore,
And when he's around he steals every scene.

The Borg I would like to avoid.
Perhaps I should contact Sig Freud.
It's safely assumed
I must *not* be consumed.
I shall hide on this next asteroid!

Ireland and the UK's annual lament

Our winters frost and snow has been stolen
and taken away from us every year.
It affects those living in valley and glen
which causes them such anxiety and fear.

I wonder if we will every have snow
or will it be a very distant memory.
As it won't make a show on the meadow
which is so unfair and so beasterly.

It seems that we will always have an extended Fall
where there will be no sign of winter in sight.
There will be no reason to wear a woollen shawl
and it feels that this is our fate and plight.

When will we ever get our seasons back?
When will we ever get the return to cold weather?
Will we will always be wearing a rain mac?
As we are at the end of our tether!

[from the archives]

I achieved the impossible this morn:
I got the childproof pill bottle cap off.
No, do not greet my feat with scorn.
Try it yourself. Then, if you must, scoff.

[a great one from 2013]

Insects' lifespans are so brief.
I won't keep them long. It's my belief
They have better things to do, I suppose,
Than spend half their lives on my nose.

[more from 2013]

Blackberry pie, blackberry pie.
Today you are young. Tomorrow you die.
Ruffles and lace, ruffles and lace.
Life is so short, it's an awful disgrace.

I'm picky where grammar's concerned.
This habit cannot be unlearned.
I ask you to bear it.
I'm kind as a carrot,
Except when the long end gets burned.

Winter forecast for Ireland and the British Isles


It is going to Atlantic driven
with an unsettled with lots of rain.
There will be a Westerly as given
which becomes our winter's bane.
There will be a polar vortex of doom
as the Atlantic jet-stream will be ramped up.
It will fill all cold weather lovers with gloom
when they are together in the evening to sup.
It will be a lot milder than norm
and the rain will be much heavier than before.
It will be quite mild and warm including the odd storm
as there will be rampant westerly winds with no frost or hoar.

[from the archives]

Quasimodo's cousin Frodo
Saw a lark, thought it a dodo,
Saw a horse, thought it an ox,
Saw hound, thought it a fox,
Saw some tea, thought it molasses.
That's because he broke his glasses.

A parcel has arrived this morning.
It was the gift that kept on giving.
A super major Sudden Stratospheric*warming
that creates nostalgic events that're continually reliving.

It opened up as it revealed its contents.
And all the church bells in the village are ringing.
It had it's own canopy and replicating presents
as I hear the garden birds singing.

It is going to take me right back,
right back at the beginning.
A new built garden shack and rucksack
along toys that keep on spinning.

It is the gift that keeps on giving again.
It keeps on repeating my favourite weather.
Having a ride on own steam locomotive train
when snow falls heavily from the aether.

Miracles happen every day.
The collisions we narrowly miss.
The cravings we just keep at bay.
The joy of our very first kiss.

I'm not sure where this verse belongs:
The challenges may come in throngs
When you wake up to find
you have more than one mind
it is seldomly cherished in songs

More than one mind, I confess,
Is what I have now -- what a mess!
My brain's got much stuffing
With mem'ries and nuffing,
And mostly I can't hardly guess.

I have wrote my journal
to write a poem for every day.
It will include one about a colonel
who provided a gourmet buffet.
It will have lighted hearted moments
that hope will cause a great deal of mirth.
There will be about parties and presents
all sent in Scotland in the city of Perth.

Internet poem of the day:
- - -
Oh negative covfefe
Thy hamberders are to me
Like Yo-semites and
Person Woman Man Camera TV.

[Aaron Sugar in Galactic Hitchhikers]

I lost my sock when rocking around the clock
whilst using TikTok dressed in my favourite flock.
I will gawk at Jock the hawk who loves to squawk
when listening to Bach when sitting in a hammock.

Mr Dettol is the king of Uptown.
He wears a gown that makes him frown.
Mr Dettol wants to keep himself very clean
for the cathedral dean who looks very lean.

The end is nigh for those who eat blackberry pie
and for those who sigh when wearing a bow tie.
Time and tide wait for no man to wear a kaftan
when learning how to drive a van with Stan.
They also serve who only stand and wait
when at the garden gate with their dinner plate.
Take a hike with Pike to observe the red backed shrike
at the woodland turnpike near by the dike.
When I consider how my light is spent
by the gent from Brent who has my pop-up tent.
If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels
I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
If I am unable to produce fragrant smells
that help me to be nimble when sewing with a thimble.
If I do not have deep love and affection
and my words do not match my actions and motives.
And if I give up my goal to achieve emotional perfection
when I am riding on my favourite steam train locomotives.