March 20, 2012

 

Let time take care of tomorrow

And you know, in the long term, it will.

Don’t worry yourself with unnecessary doubts,

Life, in the end, will climb it’s own hill.

 

March 17, 2012

Would you like to come along with me

And visit buildings old, and temples many?

 

You could soak up all their history

Remark on their survival

Admire their restoration

Marvel at their beauty

And educate your mind?

 

Or perhaps you’d find it more a duty.

Would it bore you to the roots

Would you find it all drag

Just simply not your bag?

 

REPLY

 

 

Oh, I will surely walk with you.

I’ll enjoy your pleasant company

But I will see it all through different eyes

 

I will spot the living things

The wandering tramps

The homeless cats

The pampered pooches

And birds that fly with freedom through the sky

 

I’ll ‘people’ watch

I’ll window shop

I’ll soak up my surroundings like a sponge

 

I won’t remember where we’ve been

Or names of places we have seen

 

But in my mind I will return a thousand times.

 

 

Knobs and knockers and old broom handles,

Cabbages and kings and dimly lit candles

Sausage and mash and cherry cake

Are they for real, or simply just fake?

 

Buckets and spades and a seaside donkey,

Punch hit Judy and she felt quite wonky.

Father Christmas caused a sensation,

Just another figment of our imagination.

 

And so the fantasy goes on and on.

Clouds to build our life upon.

Keep optimistic and dare to dream,

Otherwise you might just scream.

 

 

 

Nobody ever counts their pennies anymore, 

Small change just doesn’t matter.

The only sound to be heard at the till,

Is when the credit cards clatter.

 

Nobody minds being in debt now,

It doesn’t have the stigma it had.

People just pay off their interest,

Which to me seems terribly sad.

 

 Nobody really owns anything,

We all live in fantasy land.

It seems that as fast as we earn the money,

It slips through our fingers like sand.

 

 Nobody is teaching prudence these days,

People think she’s a fluffy black cat.

Well, we certainly need to have luck on our side,

Or a Daddy – who’s wallet is fat.

 

 

March 16, 2012

Constance and Prudence

And Penelope Jane

Travelled down the plughole

And finished up in the drain

 

I take eight tablets, if I remember

Every single day.

I spread them on the worktop,

In colourful array.

 

I take a water tablet

To flush my kidneys out

Then I take a bigger white pill

To ease the pain I get with gout.

 

The next one contains rat poison,

I tell you not a lie,

But this, they say, is essential.

Without it I would die .

 

Now make some sense of that

And make the answer quick

In case I get St Vitas Dance

And my legs start to kick.

 

Next I take a capsule,

Which is a lovely brownish red

I think it helps my arthritis

Or the pain that’s in my head

 

Into a glass of water

An aspirin next I drop

Sometimes I put the wrong one in

And watch it float on top.

 

That’s when, in total confusion

I have to walk away.

I put them in the cupboard

And hope I last the day

 

 I save two pills for after

I’ve had my piece of toast.

But my husband sometimes takes them

So him, I have to roast.

 

I’m not sure how they affect him.

But a change is as good as a rest

I’ve hidden his Viagra

As I think it’s for the best.

 

 

Let’s sink a few pints in the bar tonight

And forget all our worries and cares

Then follow them up with some chasers

Brandy, or whisky…… who cares?

 

Let’s all get legless and abusive,

And chant to our hearts content.

Then on the way home have a curry,

And say what a good night we’ve spent.

 

Tomorrow we’re out at the ‘footy’ match

But we meet in the pub at twelve

And sink three more pints, ah, that’s better!

Again into our pockets we delve.

 

I think I might have a pork pie,

Or maybe I might even have two.

That should take me up to half time,

When I’ll have two more pints – it’s true!

 

I probably won’t know what the result is,

When the game finally comes to a close.

As I usually drop off in the second half

And have a bit of a doze.

 

On the way home I pass the hot dog stand

And I normally have two of those.

 They set me up for the night you see,

A Saturday night on the town.

 

When I’ll probably have a pint of Guinness,

Or maybe a Newky Brown.

I always have a bag of pork scratchings,

And another pint to wash them down.

 

Then I might have a Bailey’s chaser,

If I get into that kind of mood.

Before I call off at the Chippy,

Oh, how I do love my food.

Last week when I ambled home,

I was glad to reach our gate.

I had such pains in my arms and chest,

I think it was something I ate!

 

Sunday lunch at the pub is just great,

We take bets who can drink the most.

I’d tell you that I always win,

But I really don’t want to boast.

 

These pains in my chest have come back,

And I can’t seem to get rid of this cough.

I’m just out to have my last supper

Before they carry me off.

 

 

 

                                                        

 

Try to keep things in perspective.

Don’t go over the well trodden ground.

To keep reliving the past, as was then,

Is destructive, so turn things around.

 

Try to keep life in compartments,

By keeping a mental file.

That is easily tucked away in a place,

Somewhere in the memory’s mile.

 

Try to keep going forward,

Yesterday is dead and buried.

Look forward to all your tomorrows,

But don’t let your today’s be hurried.

 

Try to keep looking cheerful,

Whilst inside you are falling apart.

That way you will trick your brain

And love will then flow to your heart

                                                                         

 

 

 

Improve your looks,  renovate your face,

Have plastic surgery, just in case.

 

Your crows feet are now growing toes,

Don’t go outside when the cold wind blows.

 

Conceal your past, cleanse your mind,

The new you is here – and oh, so refined.

 

Recycle your thoughts, yesterday doesn’t matter,

You can’t join in any wartime chatter !

 

Look into the mirror, are you still there?

Oh my Goodness, there’s some grey in your hair!

 

Your laughter lines have gone under the knife,

And the heart bypass should extend your life.

 

But tell me truly, what is the point!

with arthritis creeping into every joint.

 

You’re bottom is sagging and to tell you straight,

You seem to me to be overweight!

 

You look like an oddity, something’s not right.

What on earth do you see, when you undress at night ?

 

The pain of death is so hard to bear,

Knowing you are no longer there.

Just a hollow emptiness

And utter despair.

No point in carrying on.

 

The things we did, the life we had,

We saw it through, both good and bad.

Just a broken heart,

So very sad.

No point in carrying on.

 

I cannot handle this sudden life change.

My affairs I just can’t rearrange.

Just a pointless void,

I feel so strange.

No point in carrying on.

 

They say in time I will feel better.

That I should sit and write a letter.

But, I was dead

Before I met her.

No point in carrying on.

 

We were soul mates in every sense.

Though that is still no recompense.

In fact it’s worse, from here on, hence

No point in carrying on.

 

Today I think I can begin.

I’ve even put aside the gin.

This self indulgence

Is a sin.

Some point in carrying on.

 

 

 

 

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