Mr Popo Tries To Cook

Hey Guys! Today we have another Popo Poem! Dont know what that is? Well, Mr Popo is a regular character on my blog. He is always up to ridiculous things and his trusty wife Mrs Pipi has to help him out of them 😀 Click on the links below to see a few other post about him:

https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/04/14/mr-popo/

https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/06/02/mr-popo-to-the-gym/

https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2014/05/29/735/

 

Today’s poem is about Mr Popo trying to cook! Without further ado, here it is:

mr popo tries to cook

 

 

Mr Popo, short and fat

Is back with us again

Again making a ginormous fuss

That cycle shall repeat again.

 

This time, our dear fussy man

Had seemed to attach a hook

To a habit- quite disastrous

Of wanting to learn to cook!

 

His Mrs Pipi just sighed

She was used to his little ways

Of wanting to do thinks so bizarre

They mostly didn’t last for two days.

 

Just when this funny little man

Proposed this cooking idea to her

She knew all the things she would

Have to clean and fix and stir.

 

Mrs Pipi knew much better

Than to just uselessly interfere

But leave her hubby alone to mess up

The dirt she would later clear.

 

Now meanwhile, near the stove,

Was Mr Popo, sneezing and crying

He breathed pepper chopping onions

Soon, he was quite done trying.

 

But he wanted to impress his wife

So he quickly call up a food shop

Asked for noodles home delivery

So the deliver came in a hop.

 

When it was finally suppertime

They sat together to eat-

But ah, there was a catch-

That it was takeout, he didn’t admit!

 

He passed it off as his own,

And Mrs Pipi was so impressed!

But in the middle of Popo’s gloating,

A problem suddenly pressed.

 

Mrs Pipi noticed capsicum in the meal

But she knew there were none at home

She inquired Mr Popo about it

An uneasiness began to roam.

 

Than he had to explain how

He hadn’t actually made it

He just got it to impress Pipi:

It came out bit by bit.

 

Ready for a disappointed wife.

He bowed his head in shame

But then he saw Pipi smiling

For she loved him all the same!

 

“Oh Popo! You are too funny!

That was silly, yes thats true.

But the fact you wanted to just impress me

Just makes me really love you!”

 

So the day ended with the short

And funny couple laughing about it

The stars bright and shining

The moon whitely brightly lit.

🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Advertisements

ME LEARD

MR LEARD

There was once upon a time
A man called Mr Leard,
Reaching down his black belt
Was a long and silky beard.

 

The beard usually measured
Two and half feet worth of hair
Others thought him quite majestic
All who saw him used to stare.

 

“How daring for old Leard
To sport those long, bushy locks!”
Everybody exclaimed these words
They though him fiercer than the rocks.

 

One day, there was a meet-up
Organised by the hairy soul
People came, a little trembly,
They were afraid he might growl.

 

Mr Leard looked through his eyes
Upon the frightened audience of his city
And suddenly broke into a large smile
That was sort of laughing and witty.

 

Everyone stared at him.
They were ever so surprised!
That grand person could really grin?
To listen to him they obliged.

 

“People of my city, I had better begin.
I have called you upon my humble request
I maybe looking fierce by I truly
love you all, oh souls dearest.

 

So I just beg all you unbearded folk
To see beyond the pounds of hair
For underneath I am a nice person
For you all I really truly care!”

 

All the onlookers who were present
Agreed and then for evermore
Loved Mr Leard’s honesty and niceness
They liked him deeply to the core.

 

‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’
Is the moral of this silly little rhyme
Or perhaps, a little bit more fitting,
Don’t judge a man by his beard in your lifetime.

 

 

Mirror!

Blog Mirror

Dear Mirror, I feel to ask you-

Are you my enemy or my friend?

Wait, you must be confused,

I’ll tell you what I meant.

 

At times when I wake up

From dreams fun and simple

My happiness in shattered

When you show me a PIMPLE!

 

Or when I come back from play

I check my reflection on you

Only to find a disgusting bruise

Across my face, quite blue!

 

And the times to go to parties

I stand near to decorate

I find a sore oozing of pus

Disgusting, yellow and great.

 

Or when I come back from school

And I spot my hair sticking out

I remember my classmates laughing

“Oh how embarrassing!” I pout.

 

But you know, sometimes

The situation is opposite

You show me looking at you,

Seeming rather nice and fit!

 

My nose looks nice and sharp

And I give a healthy glow

My hair seems thick and pretty

My eyes, they twinkle so!

 

Or when my dimple goes in

And my smile seems sweet and kind

I do feel nice and happy

All worries set behind!

 

I don’t understand you, oh mirror

You’re my nightmare and my dream!

Sometimes I marvel at  my beauty

And others I wish to scream.

 

Mr Popo Writes A Book

Hello my dear friends!!! Today’s post is a little poem on….that’s right, Mr Popo! If you don’t know about him, he is a regular character in tapasmi.wordpress.com . He is always filled with funny antics! Here are the links to his previous posts:

https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/06/02/mr-popo-to-the-gym/
https://tapasmi.wordpress.com/2013/04/14/mr-popo/

Today’s Popo post is about Popo trying to write a book for his new job! Here goes:

Mrs Popo And Mrs Pipi

MR POPO AND MRS PIPI’S BOOKY ADVENTURE
Mrs Pipi stared at her fatty husband.
He looked rather occupied.
This was an astonishing thing indeed
So on his desk she spied:
A bunch of empty lined paper
And pens of thirty kinds
And just in case the paper tore
On his desk were kept some binds.
“Okay, Popo, tell me now,
What on EARTH are you up to?
You don’t seem great at the moment
And your mood is awfully blue.”
“Oh Pipi! I searched for a job!
And I ended up as a junior writer
I though writing would be easy
And the burden would be lighter.
But oh boy, was I wrong!
All I have done is got a lot of stuff.
I’ve acted super important and mighty
And acted as though I am bluff.
Oh, about 3% of my work is done
I filled the numbers of each page
But by the time I’ve filled them,
I’ll be million years of age.”
Mrs Pipi sighed and laughed.
She was used to Popo’s silly habits
And she knew when he got into them
He’d be jumpier than some rabbits.
“Oh Popo, I see your dilemma,
But I think we can the situation pass,
But before we start together,
I’ll get you some water in a glass.”
“Oh you needn’t, dear Pipi,
You see I spent more of my time
In preparing in beginning to write
Than really writing a dime.
I got fifty back up paper-sheets
And bottles of back-up ink
And a glass of water as well
If I felt I needed a sleepy wink.”
“Oh God! My hubby dearest,
Fine. Just drink it up quick!
And then I’ll call up your writer boss
For with him I have bone to pick.”
“A BONE? MRS PIPI, NO!
ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO KILL?
OKAY, HE MIGHT BE BOSSY,
BUT YOU CANT DEADIFY HIM, STILL!”
Mrs Pipi did a loud face palm,
Sighed twice and to him said,
“I see why you aren’t a writer.
This way, I want YOU dead!”
And so she called the Mr Boss,
And asked him what Popo could write,
And Mr Boss said if not a story,
Someone else’s poems would be right.
“Copying? Of course not, Mr Boss!
That’s just cruel and WRONG!
That’s just plain cheating
And meant for the un-strong!”
Mr Boss laughed and replied,
“No, Mrs Pipi! That isn’t what I mean!
He can just compile some poems
Not as a writer, but as a compiler he’d be seen!”
Then Mrs Pipi understood just then
And quickly bid goodbye,
And told Mr Popo of the idea
And this was his reply:
“But Pipi, whose poems can I compile?
I don’t know too many writer guys!”
But Mrs Pipi had a great idea
And she said the word of the wise:
“How about that youth Tapasmi?
The one who writes about you?
You’re always flattered about her
‘Mr Popo’ poems do!
“What a great idea Mrs Pipi!”
Popo hugged Pipi who was surprised
But she smiled anyways at Popo,
The fat man, short-sized.
And so the two set the work
And collected all poems of Popo
And with the motivation of energy drinks
They were quite soon on the go.
The next day at work Popo
Had a super compilation to submit
To Mr Boss the next day at work
And the compilation was a hit!
It was soon published with
‘Mr Popo’ stamped across the front
And Mr Boss and little Pipi
Were pleased with the stunt.
And so now you know of the little time
When Popo with his wife
To write a book of poems
Together did he strive.
And I, being Tapasmi,
Am flatter Popo chose me,
So I’ll keep on writing about him,
Soon, I know you’ll see.

Mango

Image

Mango

The wintery spring has glided away and the warm days of summer slowly march forward here in India. Yes! Summer has just started and started putting all sorts of pleasant summer thoughts in our mind. Shining stars, running around, welcoming the birds, and gorging on the yummy fruits of the warm season!
In a couple of weeks the markets will be in rage for all kinds of juicy luscious Indian mangoes, and so I wrote a kind of funny-ish poem about them- from the view point of the fruit itself!
So let’s welcome the narrative from Mr. Mango: ……

I am a little mango
fleshy and yellow
I am the most tasty
fruity little fellow.
I have a very big heart
that you see when eating me
Don’t thank me (or your tongue)
Thank the seed of the mango tree.
I may be quite tiny
But to taste buds I am kind
Of me there are many
All are easy to find.
If you’re sweet in your heart
To all people you meet
I’ll be yummy in your tongue
Either tangy or sweet.
I’m also strong because
When you peel of my skin
I don’t get at all hurt
Though it’s pretty thin.
Once peeling me is over
I very happily reveal
My yummy and pleasurable
Fruitful breakfast meal!
Then pass five minutes
Your mouth filled with joy
The juicy, fleshy layer of fruit
You shout out: “Oh Boy!”
You know the juice dribbles
Down upon your chin
But I am so delicious
That just isn’t a sin.
And when that done
All remains is the seed
I’ll then live your tummy
Having done a tasty deed.
But that little left seed
Can be planted with care great
And once more a tree will pop on up
For me to be in your breakfast plate!