January 12, 2014

 

 

She couldn’t eat that to save her life.

The smell of it made her heave.

She’d force down broccoli and even sprouts,

but fennel she would always leave.

 

 

 

 

 

It’s gone. It’s dead. It is kaput.

In a careless moment it got under my foot.

I heard it crunch, it was half asleep.

But it didn’t suffer, so you mustn’t weep.

 

 

 

 

She has legs as long as one can remember,

and a cracking shape at that.

She is as tall when she is sitting down,

as most ladies are when they are not sat!

 

Yet her legs are always covered up,

in trousers or in denim jeans.

What a waste of natural beauty;

One can only hope sanity intervenes,

 

and she gives the world the benefit

of those amazing ‘god given’ pins,

by wearing more skirts and dresses,

and confines her leg-wear to the bins.

 

 

 

January 10, 2014

 

 

In the basin of the river

sails a very lonely swan,

who is looking for her partner,

as she doesn’t know where he’s gone.

 

He set off down the river after breakfast,

around five minutes to nine,

for an assignment near the ferry point,

and his mood, to her seemed fine.

 

He said he would return no later,

than probably half past eleven.

So by now she was getting worried,

as it was past the hour of seven.

 

The light was going from the day,

and dusk was growing nigh.

Her two cygnets now were anxious,

staying clingingly close by.

 

This has never happened before;

Could he be with the Canadian geese,

who have little sense of timing?

she wonders, as panic levels increase.

 

She looks down the river one last time,

before settling her cygnets for the night,

and finally sees her partner in the distance,

sailing towards her, by moonlight.

 

As he nears, it’s clear he’s accompanied,

by three coots they know quite well.

He’d better have a jolly good story,

otherwise she will give him hell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She waited in the wings for decades.

Many a night, the floor she did pace.

Believing every word he fed her,

about the future they would face.

 

But when a man marries his mistress,

it creates a vacant space,

and although she won him in the end,

he often disappeared without any trace!

 

 

 

 

When the mind (not in a good place),

tries to rationalise and the future face,

it is folly, an offered hand not to take,

as acceptance of help, is no big disgrace.

 

 

 

 

Must you reach for another bottle?

You always take it that step too far.

It’s an unpleasant sight to observe,

when you stumble away from a Bar.

 

Must you go on a self destruct journey,

in an attempt to disguise who you are?

Is it so hard to face the true reality,

stone cold sober, without gripping a jar?

 

 

 

January 8, 2014

 

 

He’s coming down with something.

He says he feels it in his bones.

His voice is suddenly croaky,

and it’s coming out in groans.

 

His eyes have gone all weepy,

and his body language, grim.

His coughing, loud and dramatic,

no chance of ignoring him!

 

He’s infectious, like the plague.

We’ve been here oft before.

His sneezes reaching every corner,

from the ceiling to the floor.

 

A little boy once more,

demanding mother love,

and tucked up safely in his bed.

God give him strength from up above.

 

It’s just a simple winter cold,

but to him it’s epic man flu.

A good dose of castor oil,

will see him, good as new.

 

 

 

 

 

‘Shufty along’ she said

in a broad, husky dialect.

So I did as she asked

out of polite respect.

 

She then plonked herself

down with her old tatty bags,

and with a toothless smile,

asked if I had any fags.

 

‘I’m afraid not’ I said,

‘I have never smoked’;

She looked the type to

thump folks, if provoked.

 

I felt her strong glare,

so stared straight ahead,

hoping the conversation

could now be dead.

 

But then I softened,

when I needed to stand,

and placed some money

into her hand.

 

Thinking ‘there, but for

the grace of god, go I’.

I watched her smile return,

as I bade her goodbye.

 

When I arrived at the office,

my tale started a debate.

Some said I was crackers,

and me did berate.

 

Others said she would blow it

on ciggies and wine.

My reply to most of them was,

‘so when you do that, it’s fine?

 

A few fell silent,

they knew who they were.

It’s not just the down and outs

who excessive habits share.

 

The conversation got heated,

a guy said ‘You’ll see her tomorrow’,

‘I bet she gets on the same bus.

You’ve just bought yourself sorrow’.

 

There’s no right and wrong answer,

to what I did, that seems clear.

We all just go with our gut feeling,

when those moments appear.

 

 

 

 

January 7, 2014

 

 

You can come along if you insist,

but leave behind that old tatty mac,

that you’ve had since Adam was a lad,

so bad, the charity shop gave it you back!

 

You can tag along if you really must,

but please do something with your hair.

It’s stuck up like a cockerels bum,

and it’s embarrassing when people stare.

 

You can mooch along, but don’t blame me,

if you find you are sat bored sick.

And I will have your guts for garters,

if you show me up and act like a prick!

 

 

 

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