A humorous poem "for the boys".

Dangerously Habitual Life

Have you ever trapped your scrotum in the zipper of your trews?
Did tears suffuse your eyeballs? Did you yodel out the blues?
Did you wish you’d paid attention when you zipped your trousers tight,
And not trusted on past practice that again you’d get it right?

The lesson to be learned from this applies to all your life.
“Don’t rely on auto-pilot”. For example, with your wife
Don’t murmur bland agreement as she gaily chats away;
You might find you’ve promised faithfully her mum can come and stay.

When driving down your driveway, as you get towards the end,
There’s never any traffic coming from around the bend.
So you pull out sooner daily, traffic never seems to pass,
And then one day a bloody bus comes blaring up your arse.

Do you like to visit bars and chat; relax without a care;
Swap stories with your mates in there, while supping on a beer?
Do they brag about their conquest of a lass who got no quarter?
Beware! The lass in question might one day be your daughter.

So don’t trust to daily habit, don’t lower your defense,
Like those scrota-scrunching zippers, danger lurks in confidence.
Heed well these words of wisdom guys. “No matter what befalls,
Each time a man’s unwary, .. life gets him by the balls!”

Petter Finne
copyright. 18.02.2010

As usual, if anyone likes it, feel free to use it (free), provided you quote my name and the date.

You certainly may. In fact, I encourage it.

Here's a tongue-in-cheek poem - please no replies from irate "politically correct" types.
IT IS SATIRE. My wife loves it - she frequently caresses me about the head with a heavy object to show her appreciation!

My Marital Duty

My duty is to be chastised.
‘Tis why she married me.
‘Twould be churlish should I not comply
And deprive her of such glee.

I leave the toilet seat upraised,
For it gives her such a thrill
To gripe and groan and screech at me
With all her female skill.

My hearing, it is quite acute.
It takes practice not to hear
Concise commands, uttered only
Inches from the ear.

When late at night I come home drunk
‘Tis only so that she
Can put a “fatwa” on my soul
For all eternity.

I forego the gardening so that she,
With wifely artifice,
May pour her scorn upon me.
‘Tis a minor sacrifice.

And once the gardening’s not been done
I leave a muddy trail.
So that she may take delight in yet
Another nagging wail.

My dedication knows no bounds
In bedroom, lounge or hall,
For I know she loves me all the more
When I drive her up the wall.

Petter Finne
copyright. 28.01.2010

Have a wry laugh, admit the truth behind it, and feel free to use it as much as you like, provided you quote my name and the date.

I haven't been here long, but my impression is that you can post anything you like as long as it is not offensive.

Have you read Trevor Noah's book "Born a Crime" about his growing up as a biracial child in South Africa? There may not be a lot of similarity with your story but some of the cultural insights were very interesting.

There is a group specifically for poets - "Amateur Poetry". Just press on "Amateur Poetry" for it to take you there.