December 3, 2013

 

 

You’re off your head

to go out with him.

He needs to see

a trick-cyclist soon.

 

I knew his Father,

he went to our school.

He was expelled

for playing the loon!

 

I went out with his Father,

if truth be known.

My Mother felt the way

I do now.

 

Funny how life

repeats itself,

and twenty years on,

we’re having the same row!

 

 

 

 

She never liked a thing I bought.

we had such a different taste,

in absolutely everything –

so much money, I did waste.

 

She’d plonk a smile upon her face,

I still can see it now.

I knew she hated my gift to her,

I’d think ‘What a rotten cow!’

 

 

 

 

He said he’d fixed it,

but I knew he hadn’t.

When he tells lies,

his nostrils – they flare.

 

Next time I used it,

I got soaked to the skin,

and I’m afraid, that blue,

was the air!

 

 

 

 

It’s dirty work

is this truffle foraging,

but dirty work can’t be beat.

There’s chefs from

the finest eateries,

queuing to cook them,

to serve to the elite.

 

 

December 1, 2013

 

 

It is localised.

It has been contained.

It is under padlock.

It has been constrained.

 

It is all but dead.

Now gone, what remained!

It is a harrowing memory,

that must be left, unexplained.

 

 

 

 

 

Please don’t knock for Fleur,

she doesn’t want to know.

She left here last week

with the town, deep in snow.

 

Please don’t ring for Fleur,

the bell she won’t hear.

She went off on a whim,

without any sense of fear.

 

Please don’t cry for Fleur,

to herself, she is true.

She’s fulfilling her dreams,

which exclude me or you.

 

Please don’t mourn for Fleur,

she’s very much alive,

and maybe in the future,

back into our lives, she will ride.

 

 

 

 

 

At the time it was well chronicled,

and on each gossips tongue.

They all said that they expected it,

and weren’t to be proved wrong.

 

Too late, alas, is knowing

what the future holds in store.

No one daring to be a whistle blower,

Best keep your head down, and ignore.

 

To see and not see anything.

To hear and forget, as rule of thumb.

To keep stum and be oblivious –

It’s a sorry world, by gum!

 

 

 

 

 

It was clear what he meant,

and though said with good intent,

it left his mouth not sounding,

anything like a compliment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The burning desire,

now but an ember.

But never to be forgotten,

is that life changing December.

 

 

 

 

It’s not all milk and honey.

It’s not all blueberry pie.

But it’s as good as it will get,

and for that, they heave a sigh.

 

It’s not all caviar and lobster,

but there’s bread and butter on the plate,

and there’s blessings to be counted,

and life to appreciate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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