June 28, 2014

 

 

 

and now, for now, all exits blocked from view:

Yet forward goes the one who dared to look,

for maybe always lying in the subconscious,

was that something else, others had mistook,

 

to mean the opposite of what was apparent;

a fool indeed who thinks his friends are foes.

The end and yet another new beginning;

foundations laid, where plainly nothing shows.

 

And all the time when searching, never ending;

when finally one settles in deep repose.

It’s then, relaxed and accepting of the future,

one sees that life, with joy,  just overflows.

 

And tomorrow’s dreams are merely crutches,

to aid the walk ahead, too steep to bear.

And that the facts already laid before them,

were obvious, to one who dared to stare.

 

 

June 26, 2014

 

 

Today we played the guessing game,

of who was I, and who was he,

as we sat on a bench

drinking afternoon tea.

 

My name, you’d forgotten,

but with an easy smile,

you looked at me and said,

you’d known me a while!

 

You also readily acknowledged

that you did know he,

and knew him to be a part,

of your family tree.

 

We asked ‘who your father had married’,

and with your mind in full force,

you replied with astonishment;

‘why, my mother, of course!’

 

Your memory may be fading,

but your good humour, still there.

The smile on your face, priceless,

when a joke we all share.

 

Your husband, at your side,

you said, was that man,

but I’d thought him my husband,

when the day had began?

 

At least you knew we were yours,

and that was a plus.

There was still a connection;

at least you recognised us.

 

You then offered your hands

for each of us to hold;

 moments like that,

are worth more than gold.

 

We shared tangerine segments,

whilst still sat on the bench,

before saying ‘goodbye’,

which is always a wrench.

 

‘I’ll wave from the window’,

used to be your last line,

when life was so normal

and everything was fine.

 

We still wave through the window,

once you are back in your chair,

though we know you’ve forgotten,

that we were,        ever there!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

June 23, 2014

 

 

Quite in a neutral

kind of way,

I met a horse

who was a Bay.

 

We shared the love

of solitude.

For his age, I thought him,

one cool dude.

 

His life so interesting,

it did turn out;

he’d seen the limelight,

without doubt!

 

Yet so much unsaid

through protocol,

which would have

involved Interpol,

 

had he spilled the beans

and broken the trust,

bestowed upon him

by duty’s thrust,

 

when he entered a life

not many Bay’s see;

the fact he had class

was obvious to me!

 

When I said I’d enjoyed

‘The trooping of the colour’,

his eyes glazed over,

his expression became duller.

 

I had hit a nerve;

a sensitive spot.

He knew I’d sussed out,

a life, he hadn’t forgot.

 

I patted his back and

stroked a tear from his face;

that moment of poignancy,

he held with grace.

 

And of a bond between us

we became aware;

from that day to this,

a friendship rare,

 

developed by such

an unlikely pair,

who in each other confide,

without any words there!

 

 

 

 

 

June 22, 2014

 

 

Joined at the hip;

that solid pair.

Where you saw one,

you saw the other there.

 

Both coming together;

their love to share.

Two halves of a whole;

that solid pair.

 

If one put on a coat,

the other ready to go,

come rain or hail,

or six feet of snow!

 

No other love

did each other know.

That solid pair,

off to the Barley Mow.

 

When one was asked a question,

the other would reply,

and one would then agree,

with an accepting sigh.

 

They spoke as one;

that solid pair.

For the main part,

he left it up to her!

 

But it suited him,

by the nose, to be led;

to let go of the reins

so he could clear his head.

 

For at work, he tired

of being the boss,

with all it’s complications,

he was often cross.

 

 And was content

when at the close of day,

a relaxing role

he was, allowed to play.

 

But therein lay

the unseen trap;

the hidden catalyst,

the yawning gap,

 

which gradually had

somehow evolved,

hence the situation,

could not be resolved.

 

So he lived by the rules

always set by her,

becoming the flexible part

of that solid pair.

 

And not an easy task,

with time, she found,

when the buck stopped with her,

on solid ground.

 

For no future respite

was there, in an easy chair;

An endless, lifetime’s job;

the boss, of a solid pair! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In that split second

that you were gone,

with no more the strength

to carry on,

 

stood broken hearts

around your bed,

as tributes came flooding

and were read,

 

from well meaning friends,

both new and old;

each one with praise,

a story told.

 

And so with dignity,

you moved on,

to a better place

where bright sun shone.

 

A heart stopped beating

that had changed our world.

With arms together,

in grief we curled.

 

The moment raw,

the pain so strong.

To lose one so trusted

seemed so wrong.

 

A colossus tower,

a fine example too,

of how to live with dignity

and an open view.

 

So many traits

of goodness found.

Such praise indeed

from all around.

 

And now, what now

will the future bring?

As recovery slow

from heartache’s sting.

 

Each hour, each day

comes with a sigh.

And all that’s left

after your goodbye,

 

are lingering memories

of one of our own;

so unique, so loved,

always setting the tone.

 

So until we meet again

across the great divide,

in our hearts and minds

you will reside.

 

And all you encompassed

with a sense of worth,

we’ll try to carry on,

for you, here on earth.

 

And when we think of you,

and the times held dear,

on our faces, a smile,

will belie a tear.

 

And not half as scary

is death’s open door,

knowing we’ll be re-united.

with you, once more.

 

 

 

 

 

June 18, 2014

 

 

A life lived out on centre stage,

where exposed nerves in anger rage.

He who stoops to conquer shall be slain;

what agony, the hellish pain.

 

The lack of trust so evident;

a life snuffed out, a sad lament.

The procrastinators now deceased;

the final scene, the applause increased.

 

The raucous cheers, the standing ovation,

the dying seconds, the jubilation.

A life lived out on centre stage;

originality expressed for a paupers wage.

 

The war-paint removed, the Dressers all gone.

Once more, as ever, it’s back to one.

The sound of triumph, no bills will pay.

The cold emptiness, at close of play!

 

 

 

 

 

Here they come;

the usual suspects;

reliable to the end.

 

The first in the queue,

the rubber-neckers

who’s eyes on stalks, extend.

 

‘Could you please sign here,

for my collection,

then I’ll be on my way,

 

and if you’d sign thirty more

for my charity,

it would really make my day.

 

and if you’ve time

could I possibly beg of you,

on my buttocks, sign your name,

 

then I can take a selfie

to pop in my album,

so you can be, my claim to fame.

 

And if I can delay you further,

now it has started to rain,

would you say hello to my brother

 

who is your biggest fan ever,

along with my closest aunt

and my long departed mother!

 

Your time is at a premium,

and I know there’s others

waiting in the queue,

 

but this is the only chance

that I may ever get,

to have a quick word with you!

 

 

 

 

 

My worst enemy

I need to touch.

I can at least be civil,

though I don’t care to, much!

 

My worst enemy

I need to follow.

Though this impossible;

the truth so hard to swallow.

 

My worst enemy

I need to please,

and on the stranglehold,

the tension, ease!

 

My worst enemy

I need to outgrow,

and ‘up’ the standards

that are set too low.

 

My worst enemy

I need to meet;

to come face to face

in the scorching heat.

 

My worst enemy

I need to love,

and call my own

little turtle dove.

 

My worst enemy

I need to see,

in a mirror image,

that may well be me!

 

 

June 15, 2014

 

 

In times of desperation

she would say ‘Oh help me, mother’.

And now we echo her words,

when we cannot turn to one another.

 

The line repeated many times,

when she couldn’t control her devils,

but all too late we realise,

she was right on many levels.

 

Then arrived the fateful day

when the angels of guidance came,

and laid her burdens to rest,

and softly called her name.

 

And the words, ‘Oh forgive us, mother’,

now forever, on our lips,

as we discover for ourselves,

life’s journey full of old guilt trips.

 

She was pressured to see her mother

almost each and every day,

never understanding the next generation,

who without choice, had to stay away!

 

This cyber world we live in

where cross contamination overlaps,

ensures we stay in touch,

without the need for old road maps.

 

And hugs and kisses, so essential,

in the days of mother dear,

seem to have now become redundant

in this robotic world of fear.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The train that left from Meadow View,

set off with a choo, choo, choo.

For all onboard, excitement grew,

as the Station Master’s whistle blew.

 

Each mile of track, a promised view;

the train gathered speed, under skies of blue.

A whole week off work with nothing to do,

except chill out and live life anew.

 

With bags and suitcases at the ready,

and a walking stick to keep old Joe steady.

From the platform, you headed for the tram;

for the next few days, not giving a damn.

 

Come rain or shine, there was fun to be had.

No clocking on, or in overalls clad,

or hob nailed boots or iron soled clogs;

a rest from the graft of turning cogs.

 

So essential, a knotted hanky, for the chaps,

who’d never been seen without their flat caps.

And long trousers turned up, to the knee,

was the only way, on the beach, to be.

 

Sitting in a deck chair, with a tub of ice cream,

as children, in merriment, around you scream.

And just as you unwind from all the hassle,

your hand is pulled, to ‘built a sandcastle!

 

And you think to yourself  ‘work just never stops’,

as the wife and her sister, bugger off to the shops,

leaving you hard at it, but you do it with pride,

making sure it’s bigger, than the one by your side.

 

 And after a beer, down the deck chair you slide,

keeping an eye on the kids, now on a donkey ride.

and nodding off behind your newspaper you hide,

with the sun at full pelt and the sea at high tide.

 

Only to find they’ve all gone, and left you to fry,

without so much as a nudge or even a goodbye.

Tho’ they’ll all claim, to wake you, they couldn’t,

and drinking in the sun, you really shouldn’t!

 

So looking like a lobster, to safety you paddle,

to face their hysterics and feminine twaddle.

Avoiding smirks from folks on the promenade,

and blokes finding, not to laugh, very hard.

 

and all thinking, ‘Been there, got the plaque’,

‘and tonight you’ll be sleeping on your back’

‘and tomorrow you’ll feel like you want to die,

when the kids insist the big wheel, you try!

 

What excitement it is, a change from routine.

How the neighbours with envy, will turn green!

But how good it will feel to pack your cases

and go home to familiar people and places,

 

looking burnt to a cinder, and needing a rest,

before it begins again; the ‘cost of living’ stress,

that builds to explosion, when holidays are due,

but a blessing that work, you’ll be returning to.

 

So you wave a hand to the train at Meadow View,

as it sets off again with a choo, choo, choo.

‘What a lovely time’ you’ll say, was had by all,

as you clock in to work, and yourself, re-install.

 

 

 

 

 

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