December 19, 2014

 

 

So simple, yet so beautiful;

so pure in every way.

The gift of love so durable;

a feeling here to stay.

 

So powerful, yet so natural,

and with each passing day,

a blessing so incredible;

a fortress, come what may.

 

So solid, so dependable;

a joy, when skies are grey.

Two hearts that beat in unison;

a love that’s here to stay.

 

 

 

 

 

Weren’t you the one

who battled on,

and showed us resolve,

when hope, all but gone?

 

Weren’t you the one

we relied upon,

and came up trumps,

with the noon day sun?

 

Weren’t you the one,

when, at heavens door,

returned to life and

gave us, that bit more?

 

Weren’t you the one,

who kept us sane,

when in depths of despair,

we felt such pain.

 

Weren’t you the one

Well, it’s our turn now,

and we’ll beat this thing

together somehow!

 

 

 

 

…and age old eggs

with a highland twist,

stolen from the nest

with deft of wrist.

 

…and beige emerged

when stripped back nude;

no satisfaction

for a prude.

 

…and soothing cream

used as a crutch,

when piles no longer,

sore to touch.

 

All these and more

have been duly noted,

and stored as evidence,

in a case, misquoted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

December 17, 2014

 

 

Don’t fight fate,

that served you well,

and brought you from

the gates of hell.

 

Don’t fight fate

that saved the day,

and led you to

a better way.

 

Don’t fight fate;

that open door,

when you were

all but on the floor.

 

Don’t fight fate;

it’s on your side.

It saw your luck

about to slide.

 

Don’t fight fate,

just let it in,

so a new future

can begin.

 

 

 

 

There are Illusionist’s

with their vanishing act,

disappearing into thin air.

 

There are trapezist’s

on a high wire; no safety

net is there?

 

There are ventriloquists

with dummies, doing

things they shouldn’t ought!

 

There are jugglers

with their balls,

in sequence, being caught.

 

There’s a hamster

on a tread mill,

going like the clappers.

 

There are dancers

in a row, with

enormous flappers.

 

There are songbird’s

and doves, appearing

from each sleeve.

 

There are ladies

cut in half; a sight one

can’t believe!

 

There are men with

shiny shoes, especially

made for tappers.

 

There’s the pre-theatre

crowd, turned into

long-term nappers.

 

There’s the end of

the night, when the

applause never drops.

 

There’s the inevitable

encores, until the noise,

finally stops.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s just another day

without him near at Christmas.

Just another day;

no different from the rest.

 

She sighs another sigh,

the nearer it gets to Christmas.

Just another sigh;

she tries to smile, but fails the test.

 

She sheds another tear,

as she approaches a lonely Christmas.

Just another tear;

in more heartache she’ll invest.

 

She dies another day

as she misses him at Christmas.

Just another day,

when she can’t get him off her chest.

 

                     ……….  the bastard!

 

 

December 15, 2014

 

 

As they approached

Temptation’s Boulevard,

their paths criss-crossed

past Baxters yard,

 

and onward towards

their destination;

each without a thought

or imagination,

 

of how their lives

about to change;

neither sensing fear,

nor feeling strange.

 

Yet wanting more

than was on show,

and needing more

than fire-light’s glow,

 

that was offered on

Temptation’s Boulevard.

A path well trodden;

a well used entry card.

 

A secret promise

to stay away:

A promise broken

every day.

 

A way of life,

this comfort zone.

A habit formed,

no reason known.

 

For one, a way

to easy cash.

For the other, recovery

from the crash.

 

Two worlds collide

on Temptation’s Boulevard,

and hand in hand they run

past Baxter’s yard,

 

into the sunlight

where freedom found;

an escape forever,

from life’s underground

 

 

December 11, 2014

 

 

Her job having plenty

of lows and highs;

like an escape of gas

coming as a surprise,

as she lifted old Sam’s leg

for the very last time,

thinking how grand he had been,

when once in his prime!

 

And the baby’s arrival

when long overdue,

was a joy to behold

and a miracle true.

She laid them out

and brought them in:

The dead and the living

both as clean as a pin.

 

The village folks called her

‘The Hatcher and Dispatcher’.

The dead she didn’t fear

for they could no longer catch her.

and the newly born’s she placed

at a waiting breast,

in the hope mother nature

would do the rest.

 

No better vocation

for this willing lass.

She’d brought in so many

and laid plenty to grass.

But whether in-comers or out-goers

on her they could depend.

Both in life and in death,

she was always their friend.

 

 

December 7, 2014

 

 

and in a life

that was suppressed,

with one’s best efforts

always second best,

 

there was comfort waiting

by the fire,

never judging, and without

a crossed wire.

 

And when they failed to see

you’d come home now,

always the cat sat waiting

to say me-ow.

 

No better calmer;

that snugly ball,

who read the signs

and said ‘just sod ‘em all!

 

 

 

 

You’ve known me

long enough to feel,

my anguish when

a grape I peel.

 

You’ve known me

long enough old lad,

to read my mind and see

I’m sad, not glad.

 

You’ve known me

long enough to know,

when I say yes,

that I mean no.

 

You’ve known me

long enough to guess,

when I say ‘I’m okay’,

I’m really in a mess!

 

 

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