August 11, 2012

 

 

She said she didn’t like it,

even though she’d never tried it!

She said the smell made

her want to heave.

I’ve known her leave the table

and rush outside to breath.

She was such a flaming ‘Drama Queen’,

you really wouldn’t believe.

 

 

 

 

 

What’s ‘forever’ when you’re

finished, anyway?

It’s only the blue horizon and

no further than the eye can see.

 

Why worry about the future?

We are all but dead leaves on a tree.

None of us being immortal,

nor reaching eternity free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What have you been up to

my dearest little cherub?

I sense your feeling of elation

I see the sparkle in your eyes.

I know you well enough, to know

I’m due a few white lies.

 

 

 

 

With the sharpness of a vulture

about to pounce on it’s prey,

he has to motivate his team

to once again, at the top level stay.

 

This season, more than others

will test his tenacity and power,

to prove he’s the best manager ever.

Cometh the man, cometh the hour?

 

 

 

 

 

She awoke one morning

and suddenly took it into her head

that after a lifetime pining for him,

he probably now was dead.

 

No-one could change her thinking,

nor could they make her stay.

As she set off on her journey

they watched her life drain away.

 

Her whole life wasted just hoping,

that someday he would return.

What a price to pay for love,

now that all the bridges burn.

 

And what, if when in heaven,

god forbid, he isn’t there?

And she booked a one-way ticket,

out of love-sick despair.

 

And what if all the time,

he was watching from close by,

and just around a nearby corner;

himself, a love-sick spy.

 

What fools, deserving of each other,

if ever two fools where,

to spend a lifetime apart,

when they could have been a pair.

 

 

August 10, 2012

 

 

I cannot live with him in the ‘close season’

He goes through a kind of bereavement

In mourning for ‘Match of the Day’!

His favourite players transferred to the enemy

Sick beyond words

Lolling mindlessly around the house

Under my feet

Grumpy, jumpy

Wanting more rumpty – tumpty!

Giving me hell.

Moaning he’s unwell.

Roll on next season

Give him a reason

to live, to exist

To come home elated

To peacefully sleep

Get our life back on track

and our sanity keep.

 

 

 

 

August 9, 2012

 

 

Hoards of people rushing nowhere,

spending dosh they haven’t got

on the latest ‘must have’ gizmo

that they think is hot, hot, hot.

 

Crashing shoulders with each other,

to the Sales, they run amok,

in hope of saving a small fortune

on the latest ‘Westwood’ frock.

 

Heading with the kids towards ‘Hamleys’

to grab games running out of stock,

that will be played just once at Christmas

then on a shelf, stored and forgot.

 

When at last the ‘hit’ is over,

back amongst the crowds they run

to the nearest proverbial coffee bar

for a latte and a bun.

 

Then with parcels at the ready

and feet about to howl,

they rush back along the street

to get home in time for Simon Cowell.

 

 

 

August 7, 2012

 

 

 

There was a scootercophony of sound

as he roared off on his Lambretta.

 

 

 

 

Until this world stops turning

I will go on yearning

to see you again once more.

I need to see how you’ve blossomed

and how you’ve coped alone,

in this jungle of existence,

where we spurn our very own.

 

 

 

 

 

During her soul searching days

she listened to what people didn’t say.

She saw in their eyes all she needed to see, and

knew in her heart, what the remedy should be.

 

 

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