Sweaty Crack Pt.2 – A Poem

Note: This is a continuation of ‘Sweaty Crack – A Poem


I keep jogging along

An old dusty track,

When I remember

My faithful little knapsack.


I swing it off my shoulders

Inside is an ice-pack –

One of those small squidgy ones,

Maybe I could use that!


I pry my cheeks wide open

Feel the cool air in my crack,

But then a sweaty fart escapes

Now, dignity I lack!


I realise that this will not do,

Maybe I should find a stream.

Surely all that rushing water

Will make my crack squeaky clean?


I work my way to a river

Through bushes, brambles and flowers.

So much hard work…then it hits me,

Maybe I should just go home and shower.

Sweaty Crack – A Poem

This is very refreshing

And so much fun.

It started off as a walk

But turned into a run.


Over the mountain

And over a hill,

Through the meadow

And past an old mill.


But then it begins –

The uncomfortable itch,

Around the same time

That I start to get a stitch.


Plunging my hand down

My pants to have a scratch,

The back of my hand on the cotton

Discovers a wet patch.


Having slowed to a jog,

I trace the wetness up my back,

It’s a trickle down my spine

Feeding into my sweaty crack.


Note: This poem was so much fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it! In fact it was so much fun, that I have written ‘Sweaty Crack Part 2’, which is a continuation of the story. I will be publishing it next Wednesday, so I hope you’ll be around to read that too 😉

Offcut Face – A Poem

Your face looks like an offcut,

Can’t get the thought out of my head.

Your face looks like an offcut

And your skull is made of lead.


Your brain looks like an olive

With a big hole in the middle,

Your brain looks like an olive

Because on one end’s a wrinkle.


You say to me that I am wrong,

That your brain is very dense.

I look at you with pitying eyes –

I didn’t mean to cause offence.


I smile and admit that I am wrong,

You have nothing left to prove.

Your brain looks like a mango,

With a stump-like stalk and smooth.

Dirty Loincloth – A Poem

What’s the time?

Half past nine.

Hang your loincloth on the line.

When it’s dry, does it shine?

Maybe yours does, but not mine!

Remove the stains and it’ll be fine!

Easy care, easy wear.


Summer breeze

Makes me feel fine,

Blowing through the loincloth

On my line.

Nerves – Haiku

Just the one phone call

To the insurance people

Makes my bowels move.


This is my first shot at Haiku, so please feel free to let me know if I’ve managed to do something wrong 🙂