How many of the year’s resolutions have I shut?

None, none, none

How does it make me feel in my gut?

Fun, fun, fun

How many new resolutions am I going to make?

One, one, one

What resolution is it that I am going to take?

Have fun, fun, fun

I’ve got a great news to share

And also a dilemma

I’m blessed with a baby poem

I don’t know what to name her

…

Should I name her Rachel?

Debbie or Emily?

Should I call her Jessie?

Would someone please help me?

…

Should I keep it quirky

Modern or ancient?

Should I name her after

A former president?

…

Put yourself in my place

What name would come to you?

If you’re out of ideas

Here’s what you need to do

…

Find a Baby Name box

Lift its giant lid

Till then I’ll just call her

‘How To Name A Kid’

Somebody catch me my poems

They’re all over the place

They’re everywhere they shouldn’t be

Oh it’s such a disgrace

…

They start off from my head you know

And run around as they please

They’re even harder to catch I’d say

Harder than a swarm of bees

…

I chase after them all day you know

So often I chase in vain

In the morn’ they come to life

Then at night they run again

…

You see I really need your help right now

Won’t you help me for a while?

I’ll pay you handsomely I promise

I’ll pay you with a smile

Last night I was texting

To my fiancée

‘To my future wife’ is

How it was meant to be

Then there’s Autocorrect

Which ruined my whole life

Changed my loving words to

‘To my favourite wife’

Now she wouldn’t listen to me

She said she’s had enough

She couldn’t trust me ever

She called our wedding off

They carved me out in stone

But gave it a crooked nose

Placed it upon a throne

But missed to put on clothes

In a desolate zone

They set me all exposed

I asked God for some fame

This is it I suppose

If Fridays are celebrated

Because the weekends are near

Then Sundays should be

The worst days of the year

I texted God my problems

For I was sad and lonely

Pat came His reply

‘Can’t talk, Whatsapp only’

Wife’s gone out with friends

I’m home with our two sons

I’m supposed to manage

While she has all the funs

It’s days like these when I feel

I should have been alone

Never should have married

Or kids should all be grown

…

One of them is hungry

The other’s crying loud

It’s like I’m locked inside

A room of angry crowd

Well I’m feeling helpless

There’s nothing I can do

This is mental torture

I want to cry out too

…

Well I give them board games

And some packaged food

It always works out with her

With me it isn’t good

And the cries get louder

Hunger takes its toll

Trying to run a house

Where I have no control

…

Well my wife just text me

‘How the angels are?’

Should I text back the truth

About my brand new scar?

Then she texts me again

Stamps and seals my fate

‘Hey, my battery’s low now

It might get quite late’

Once I found a treasure map

With an ‘X’ marked upon it

It got me quite excited

That I must admit

…

I followed the map’s trail

With a spade in my hand

It led me to a garden

Desolate and abandoned

…

In the barren garden stood

A giant of a tree

That was the treasure spot

My heart was filled with glee

…

So I began digging

Digging for hours on end

Digging all day and all night

With a spade in my hand

…

Many such days did pass

No sign of a chest

Though I dug up everywhere

Though I tried my best

…

An old man came up to me

Said, “Son, I see you sweat

But what is it you want?

What do you wish to get?”

…

Though I wasn’t very keen

I narrated my tale

About the dusty treasure map

About the ‘X’ and trail

…

He said, “You’ve got it wrong

The treasure is the tree

No need to be digging

This map was made by me”

…

I looked at him with rage

Knocked him with my spade

Buried him on the spot

Under the giant tree’s shade