May 31, 2016

 

 

Tune in to 

Tony’s Time Machine

Wednesday  1st June.

11am. – 1pm

(Repeated  Thurs 8am 

Frid 1am,  Sat 6pm )

 

Today’s Tony’s Guest 

is

John Trotter

(Support Worker – Morecambe)

who will be discussing

Disabled access to

Premiership Football Grounds.

 

Also,

read live will be

‘Football Club Nicknames’

written by

Harriet Blackbury

 

Have fun folks

 

 

 

 

 

May 30, 2016

 

 

There’s The Shaymen and The Silkmen,

and many clubs called The U’s.

There’s The Shrimps and The Shrews,

and lots of clubs called The Blues.

 

There’s Railwaymen and Tractorboys,

and The Brewers and The Shots.

There’s The Cobblers and The Glovers,

and The Red Devils with the hots.

 

There’s The Spurs and The Gunners,

and The Toon Army and The Tykes,

and The Hammers and The Potters,

and The Pilgrims taking hikes.

 

There’s the Rams and The Wolves,

and The Eagles and The Seagulls.

There’s The Mariners and The Owls,

and The Saints and The Gulls.

 

There’s The Shakers and The Trotters,

and The Cherries and The Tangerines.

There’s Pompey and there’s Posh,

and Canaries in yellows and greens.

 

There’s The Black Cats and The Tigers

and The Hatters and The Dale.

There’s The Bluebirds and The Wanderers,

and The Terriers and The Vale.

 

There’s The Baggies and The Toffeemen,

and many called The Claret and Blues.

There’s Donny and there’s Palace,

and many more I could chose.

 

Whatever club our inclination:

Whichever club holds dear, our heart,

we’ll stick with through the ages,

til the day that we depart.

 

Whether riding high in the top flight,

or in the family leagues below,

Football is our Saviour,

and the game we all love so.

 

Written by Harriet Blackbury

 

 

May 26, 2016

 

 

‘In’ says Corbyn

as does Blair,

but ‘out’ says Boris,

flicking hair.

 

‘In’ says Cameron

so does Major.

‘In’ says Brown –

there goes my wager.

 

‘In’ says Hezza

so does Clarke.

Two trusted stalwarts

make their mark.

 

‘In’ says Obama

nervous but brave.

‘Out’ says Thatcher

from the grave.

 

‘In’ says Osborne

with little material clout.

‘Out’ maybe The Queen

though there is doubt.

 

‘In’ says Teresa

but only just,

whilst Mrs Merkel

says ‘In’ – a must.

 

‘In’ says Cleggy

and Farron too.

Trump says ‘Out’

his point of view.

 

 ‘In’ on some days,

then ‘out’ makes sense.

My bum so sore

sitting on the fence.

 

‘In’ says Sturgeon

and Lagarde.

No opinion yet

from Stratford’s Bard. 

 

‘In’ says Soames

but ‘Out’ Lord Owen.

Who knows which way

this thing is going?

 

‘Out’ says Gove

and Lawson too,

and for JCB –

a Brexit view.

 

So much to weigh up

So much brain strain,

but a wasted vote

if I abstain.

 

‘In’ says Abbott

and ‘Out’ Portillo –

a friendly fight due

with a political pillow.

 

‘In’ says Jaguar

and Land Rover.

I’ll be so glad

when voting over.

 

‘In’ say The Kinnocks

through family ties,

which kind of comes

as no surprise.

 

 ‘In’ says Mandelson.

‘Out’ says Rees-Mogg

The answer clear

as pea-soup fog.

 

‘Out’ says Putin –

Europe’s backbone gone.

Lord Archer relaxed,

another Best Seller, No. 1

 

‘In’ say those

you wouldn’t think!

I’m so confused

I’ll turn to drink.

 

‘Out’ says Farage

with pint in hand.

‘Out’ says Whittingdale,

‘making a stand’.

 

But If ‘Out’ is do-able,

how long the wait

before progress seen?

is the main debate

 

Little clues from Dimbleby,

or ‘This Week’s’ Neil,

though Molly’s advice

my vote would seal.

 

So many undeclared

we can’t lean upon.

Impartial too has to be,

The Speaker – John

 

That man of letters, Johnson –

the campaign leader of ‘In’,

whilst IDS a firm ‘Outer’

shaking loud the tin.

 

And ‘Out’ forever

has been Bill Cash,

but Prescott’s ‘In’

with fists that bash.

 

‘In’ says Ashdown

and ‘In’ says Steel

so too Baroness Williams

I strongly feel.

 

Some say voting ‘In’ would fix

what isn’t yet broken?

Whilst voting ‘Out’ – a verbal minefield,

as yet unspoken?

 

‘In’ says Richard Branson,

‘In’ says Karren Brady

Respect, both for him

and this wise business Lady.

 

And If such proven leaders

(who know more than we)

are saying we must stay –

it’s making sense to me!

 

Whilst Brexit sounds OK in theory,

too many mavericks would be in charge,

and if it all went ‘belly up’

we’d be exposed to the world at large?

 

So ‘Yippee’ – what a sweetener,

to have Lord Sugar close at hand.

Some sense, at last on offer,

to help us clearly understand,

 

as the right cross indeed is vital –

we all must have our say,

and now someone we believe in

might finally save the day.

 

Taken from my Collection at  www.blackbury-poems.com 

 

 

 

May 23, 2016

 

 

and as with matters

of the heart,

distrust formed madness

from the start.

 

No love so strong

could time endure,

No quick-fix pill

a freedom cure.

 

and so long gone

the one who came,

and changed the world –

What was his name?

 

and as with matters

of the heart,

no barrier cream

could stop the smart.

 

No love so wrong

could stand the test,

so separate paths

always the best.

 

and so long gone

the one who came,

who’s now blocked out –

What was his name? 

  

 

 

 

 

Last week I lost my ‘Jolly’ gene;

events got the better of me.

News, not so good, arrived unannounced

on a daily basis you see.

 

There seemed no end to suffering;

all sorts of memories flooded back.

Re-opening dusty compartments,

where ghosts from the past attack.

 

Last week I lost my ‘Jolly’ gene,

and in isolation sat.

Over – thinking as I tend to do,

when numb and feeling flat.

 

There seemed no end to misery;

I thought how life unfair,

and worried for the outcome,

of those, now facing their nightmare.

 

Last week I lost my ‘Jolly’ gene;

life stopped me in mid-stream.

A good spell of going forward,

broken with a scream.

 

There seemed no point in mixing,

but if only I’d been aware,

that you too were sat in darkness,

without your ‘Jolly’ gene, beside you there?

 

Last week I lost my ‘Jolly’ gene,

but with time, it will return.

Sharing support, the answer,

when for the past we yearn.

 

So next time you lose your ‘Jolly’ gene,

and sense you fail to see,

just get in touch and let me know,

and we’ll chat until we are gloom-free.

 

 

May 13, 2016

 

 

In vivid green

with turquoise hue

appeared a kingfisher

out of the blue.

 

So moved was I,

the sight I shared,

as it came nearer

into view.

 

‘If that’s a kingfisher,

I’m Brad Pitt’,

said the protagonist

by my side.

 

‘Ornathology not

your strong point, dear’.

So in silence

we continued the ride!

 

 

In vivid fear

of my next remark

in case this time

I spotted a lark,

 

so moving as it

ascended the sky,

with plumes of grey,

so sleek and dark.

 

My protagonist

now buried his head

in the centre fold

of The Times.

 

Thinking.’God help me –

how long must I endure,

this old bird

and her potty rhymes.’  

 

 

 

 

The truth behind a misconception

far too private to explain,

but amazing how a lack of knowledge

can put on one, such extra strain.

 

The truth behind a misconception,

as constricting as barbed wire.

Wind travelling in the wrong direction

killing the flame of loves desire. 

 

 

 

 

Bruised and battered

through rough and tumble.

A knee full of cinders,

heard Mother grumble.

 

Out all day long

swinging from trees.

In all kinds of weathers –

sunshine and freeze.

 

Before ‘Health & Safety’

back in the day,

down on the farm

hiding in, bales of hay.

 

And up for a prank

playing tip-latch.

Whilst quick slight of hand

needed for Jacks.

 

Many a glass-alley

lost down a grid;

all part of life

when as a kid

 

nothing too problematic

stuck in the mind –

everyone an inventor

of a simplistic kind.

 

Just mauling about,

but never a threat.

Playing back-street footy

in the rain, soaking wet.

 

Feeling safe as houses,

everyone’s door open wide.

Nothing worth stealing

was there inside.

 

A thre’penny bit or a tanner

given weekly from birth.

Paper money, a fortune

if ten bob, one was worth.

 

Legs, the best form of transport-

a stick aiding the hike,

or a real tour-de-force

if one posh, with a bike.

 

How far we have come,

Great-Grandparents recall,

reflecting on their lives,

now we have it all.

 

No wonder they frown

and think us spoilt to bits,

The best teachers are they,

with wise words from their lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 10, 2016

 

 

Well known the path

from A to B,

where once more I

transported he

 

on country roads

in driving snow,

and then the bend

so many know,

 

to be the killer

of young and old,

as in a ditch

the story told.

 

Where tyre tracks

showed clear the slide,

and then the Mini

on it’s side!

 

So still the moment;

hearts beating fast,

wide-eyed, alighting,

and aghast.

 

too scared to look,

but look we did,

through shattered glass,

where snow now hid,

 

a picture unclear

at break of day;

A train to catch –

melting away.

 

Relief at finding

occupants long gone.

In measured haste

we carried on

 

in silence as

we’d done before;

heartache of parting

still in store.

 

But thoughts now

of a different kind

eclipsing what was

on our mind.

 

And though my heart

for him did yearn,

my thoughts now on

my safe return,

 

through blinding snow

of purest white;

hands gripping wheel

with all my might.

 

And then his call

before his flight,

re-assuring me

he was alright,

 

though he had found

the onward ride defeating,

as it was the mail train,

without bloody heating!

 

And so off he flew

for another four month spell;

our lives far from perfect,

but separation – hell. 

 

 

 

She made, as whole

the sapling tree.

A fact that did not

escape me.

 

T’was only when

some freedom found.

I found my life

to turn around.

 

That hardened shell.

That tough resistance,

instilled in one

who kept their distance.

 

And yet I know

her heart inside,

in pieces shattered;

no eyes belied.

 

They all took from her

what was on view,

( the wisest owl

this planet knew)

 

and used to their advantage

hard lessons taught,

before being dismissed

when freedom sought.

 

Used and abused?

I don’t think so.

This powerhouse of energy,

a one – woman show.

 

‘Keep your distance,

and then return’

they all said to do,

‘It’s how to learn!’

 

She says herself

‘They come and go’,

so many that

she got to know.

 

But never stops

to wonder why,

in exasperation,

their goodbye?

 

But she forever struck

a chord with me;

the one who set

my spirit free.

 

And to this day,

‘respect’ still there.

For one so grand,

and so aware. 

 

 

 

 

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