Elly’s Shoulders: A poem in celebration of Miss Conway’s clavicle, scapula and humerus

Elly Conway’s sexy blouses
Catch the eye of all in trousers.
Shoulders here and shoulders there,
Elly’s shoulders, always bare.

See her shoulders in the school,
In the street or by the pool.
In the club or at the bar,
Elly’s shoulders always are.

As she downs another wine,
Elly’s shoulders bare and fine.
If Elly went to cold, cold places,
To see new sights and meet new faces,

Even if that land had snow,
Her shoulders still would be on show.
She’d ski so well without a doubt,
But her ski suit would have bits cut out.

If our Elly should resume
Her dates with men, we can assume
That she will give the man who holds her
Lots of comfort on her shoulder.

© Carol Ann Wood
February 2018


Links:
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Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


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Make Sheila Feel Alive, Clive!

The latest poetic review of Erinsborough’s Ramsay Street

Oh Mr Clive Gibbons, the suave CEO,
Please go out with Sheila; she needs you, you know.
She’s made bad decisions with a few men she’s met,
But she has a kind heart and she’s feeling upset.

She knows you’re a good egg, so give her a chance.
She’s not had much fortune with men and romance.
You could be the modern day Harold and Madge!
And that is the mark of an honourable badge!

We need to keep Clive in the midst of the street,
And when Sheila’s in love she’s amusing and sweet.
She can get tips from Susan on blue box attire,
And set both your heart and the suburb on fire!

So come along Clive, be a perfect love-healer
And nestle in close to the bosom of Sheila!

© Carol Ann Wood
Thursday, 30 November 2017


Links:
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About the author
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Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


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The Plot Thickens

The latest poetic review of Erinsborough’s Ramsay Street

It’s hotting up in Ramsay Street,
The mystery goes on.
Is Mark a cop now dark and bad?
Will his freedom soon be gone?

Or is the herring red and false,
Some twists and turns in store?
Destroying the evidence was dumb.
He’s heading for a fall.

Meanwhile young lovers reunite,
So in their joy we revel.
Are Ben and Xanthe taking things
To the infamous ‘next level’?

And Courtney had her painted claws
Quite deeply into Paul.
She planned the nuptials with a quiz,
So she could ‘win it all’.

But Paul, despite saying ‘Let’s elope,’
Got cold feet on the day.
And Courtney’s been left high and dry,
She’s begging ‘Let me stay.’

And what’s this now? A Christmas vow
Our Sonya’s quietly plotting?
She wants her Toad to know
He’s more than the dead plant he was potting.

One thing the viewers want to see
(Please, writers, pay attention)
Is something very special
So deserves a special mention.

Australia said YES! And so
Down to the lake we’re heading.
Please Aaron, David, tie the knot,
As we love a neighbours wedding!

© Carol Ann Wood
Tuesday, 28 November 2017


Links:
My bespoke poetry service, Diverse Verse
About the author
Contact the author, or follow this blog
Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


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Rewriting history?

The second in a series of regular poetic reviews of Erinsborough’s Ramsay Street – this one prompted by two October webisodes

Oh Paul, oh Paul, what have you done?
You’ve changed the lives of everyone
Who ever lived in Ramsay Street
(And those who died there too).
Did you correct your past mistakes
By going back to do re-takes?
And have you altered history?
What are you going to do?

Oh Paul, oh Paul, the ‘old’ Terese
Has rather different, common ways,
She’s not the classy lady that
You tried to prise from Gary.
And as your past comes back to haunt,
You’re looking spooked, and pale, and gaunt
When you meet your kids and find
That two of them decide to marry!

Is this surreal experience a lesson learnt?
We’re in suspense,
And did you still burn Lassiter’s
And marry Gail? Do tell!
And what about the other wives?
(You’ve had a few in your past lives!)
And did your nephew still get trapped
With Immy, down a well?

We have so many questions, Paul
And we want answers to them all.
But mostly we all want to know
The Blue Box secrets please!
We know there is a nurse’s dress.
The rest we’re always trying to guess.
Don’t keep us in suspenders with
A cryptic, crafty tease.

What will your next adventure be?
We really cannot wait to see.
Will you meet Harold, Madge and
Mrs Mangel on the way?
Perhaps a twin who’s named Alessi?
Careful Paul, this could get messy.
We’re not sure this time hop really
Makes a better day!

© Carol Ann Wood
Tuesday 31 October 2017


Links:
My bespoke poetry service, Diverse Verse
About the author
Contact the author, or follow this blog
Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


Index of Posts:


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Only A Carbon Footprint Away

The first in a series of regular poetic reviews of Erinsborough’s Ramsay Street – this one a review of the week’s episodes

Susan, Susan, smug and smart,
Swish that cape and steal the part!
‘The Perfect Blend’ left Karl surprised.
(You sure that line ain’t plagiarised?)

Paulie, Paulie, hold it there!
Wife number six so young and fair?
Not your money she is after?
Just your charm? (Cue viewers’ laughter.)

Amy, Amy, handy tradie,
You going back to work so shady?
If you need some saucy gear,
The Blue Box lies in a house quite near.

Toadie, Toadie, do not dredge
The lake to find your lovelock pledge.
You never know what secrets might
Be buried there and come to light.

Karl’s compost plans, or his dollar stash,
Might bob up with a mighty splash.
And, heaven forbid, a watery call
From another love child, son of Paul.

Elly, Elly, you okay?
You haven’t had a drink all day.
You’re doing the things that teachers do.
It’s most absurd and not like you.

Tyler, Tyler, Tyler B,
How dumb are you? You cannot see
That Hamish is a lying creep?
It makes the viewers want to weep.

Yashvi, Yashvi, think you’re cool
To cause a stink that closed the school?
Such pranks as this do not end well.
Ask Piper of her burning hell.

Will Gary and Terese get back
To limbering in the spa or sack?
Will Guy Fawkes go without a hitch?
Is Courtney real or a scheming bitch?

Will Sheila’s heart be a shattered mess?
Should we send for Clive in his fancy dress?
It’s an average week in our favourite place.
So follow this blog and watch this space!

© Carol Ann Wood
Week ending Friday 27 October 2017


Index of Posts:


Links:
My bespoke poetry service, Diverse Verse
About the author
Contact the author
Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


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Ladybird Lover: Down And Dirty With Gary

Terese is a woman with many a need.
In business she’s well used to taking the lead.
She’s smart and she’s sassy, and she wanted some fun.
But who’d have thought Gary her frolicking one?
An unlikely couple, he’s rough at the edges,
And more used to odd jobs like trimming the hedges
Than getting it on with his boss on the sly,
But when they’re together, oh me and oh my!
The chemistry’s sizzling, Terese is a- glowing.
‘She’s working you too hard!’ cries Sheila,
Not knowing that what she has said
Is a literal truth.
But she’s bound to discover,
Cos Sheila’s a sleuth.
Terese feels so frisky she’s skipping around
And she’s whispered to Susan of the fun she has found.
She’s mentioned a ladybird – what could this mean?
An exciting position I think we might glean.
Well Gary is bubbling with fear and delight
Like a love-struck young schoolboy
On a school disco night,
And Paul’s quietly seething and plotting revenge,
His face hard and angry like a stone at Stonehenge.
Poor Gary had better look over his shoulder,
Cos a Robinson death stare can hit like a boulder.
Will Gary hang on to the bosom of love,
Or will he be ousted with a heavy-man shove?
I’m rooting for Gary, a Canning who can,
He’s tough stuff, Terese’s new ladybird man!

© Carol Ann Wood
October 2016


Index of Posts:


Links:
My bespoke poetry service, Diverse Verse
About the author
Contact the author
Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


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Father Jack In The Sack

An illustrated poem to commemorate the de-frocking of Neighbours’ Father Jack – and the durability of Paige’s lipstick and mascara after an unfortunate incident with a hot-air balloon…


If you enjoyed the video, Take a look at this review, Beauty And The Priest: Father Jack and his tortured soul, and this earlier poem, Beauty And The Priest.


Index of Posts:


Links:
My bespoke poetry service, Diverse Verse
About the author
Contact the author
Follow Carol Ann Wood on Twitter
Carol’s football-related blog: Levelling the Playing-Field
NOT Just Saying: Carol Anns’s comments on feminism, fashion, food and folly
Perfect Blend
Neighbours


Please note that any advertisements which appear below these posts are not indicative of any endorsement by the author. They are placed there by a WordPress algorithm.