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!

 

 

December 1, 2013

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 27, 2013

 

 

Although travellers find a haven

that suits them after a while,

in their head is mother country

tracking every wayward mile.

 

Then, when for family gatherings,

(be it happy times or sad)

they return once more to where,

they played as lass and lad.

 

And passing places of their childhood,

eyes catch many a tempting ‘for sale’ sign,

near to where ancestors lived,

up the rocky road incline.

 

They join friends and extended families

all getting on with their life,

and visit the chapel where Gran attended-

she was a perfect kind of wife.

 

Later, they wonder for a moment,

even hesitate and sigh,

before jumping back onto the highway

after another heartfelt goodbye.

 

Yet, though their heartstrings pull

with such magnetic force,

their heads say ‘keep on going,

and future plans endorse’.

 

They were bombarded with advice,

and certainly all of it, well meant,

but it only added to their confusion-

God bless those with good intent.

 

Many see it as unfaithfulness

to desert original roots,

but an adventurer of life,

will wear many pairs of boots.

 

Those who’d never had the wanderlust

begged of sense and asked why remain

in a place that has few ties – 

and no reason, was there to explain!

 

Others warned ‘You are well rid –

you’d be fools to come back here,

there’s so much violence now’.

As if there’s none, where they are near!

 

So to voluntary exile,

they eventually arrived back,

to a place long since adopted

where the odds just seem to stack.

 

But as the distance became greater

with every travelled mile,

a part of their heart faced homeward,

making them unsettled for a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

October 18, 2013

 

 

Fetch me some anemones Nellie,

from the Friday market today.

And if you can spot any gladioli’s,

two bunches of those, would be ok.

Oh, and if you’ve time, you could

stop off at the butchers stall,

and get me a shoulder joint-

We’ve got Fanny coming tomorrow,

with her husband, Ignatius

from St Patricks Point.

 

 

October 15, 2013

 

 

Elements of gentleness,

touches and caresses.

Symbols of togetherness

held firm through all life’s stresses.

 

Years of solid unity,

as onward time progresses.

Wobbles cured and blips erased,

as each, their error, confesses.

 

Memories of bygone days

when she had long tresses,

and she was always ‘up for it’,

never any ‘will she – won’t she’, guesses.

 

Through it all they stood the test,

but now when she undresses,

she makes sure that the light is out,

though true love, still professes.

 

 

 

September 27, 2013

 

 

She’ll give me grief,

and deny me food,

for no reason at all,

if she’s in that mood.

 

She’ll read my mind,

and will not flinch,

unless I take a yard,

when she gives an inch.

 

She’ll go berserk,

and lock me out.

She’ll twist her face,

like a dying trout.

 

She’ll rant and rave,

like a woman possessed,

even though my innocence,

I will protest.

 

She’ll string me up,

and whip me hard,

and from her house,

I will be barred.

 

She’ll raise the roof.

She’ll give me hell.

I’ll need the protection

of a padded cell.

 

She’ll send me packing.

She’ll show me the door,

even though I plead,

and say her, I adore.

 

She’ll sit and stew.

and sulk a while.

She’ll avoid eye contact,

in case we smile.

 

She’ll come around in time,

with the releasing of a weight.

That vixen of a woman

keeps me, on the straight.

 

She’ll soften up and melt,

like butter in the sun,

and it’s well worth the wait,

for a hug, from honey bun.

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

September 21, 2013

 

 

It was the final button

in a row of many,

that disguised the modesty

of sweet, young Penny.

 

It was the undone zip

of her tunic slip,

that caused her chastity

to take a dip.

 

It was the final closure

of a parental cloak,

that released dear Penny

from her loving folk.

 

 

September 4, 2013

 

 

She lent him her new Hopper Jetstream,

as he’d begged to ride it around the block.

He returned with the front wheel buckled,

and himself, in a state of shock!

 

He’d swerved to avoid a pensioner,

and as the brakes went into a lock,

he sailed head first over the handle bars,

as the bike careered off into a rock.

 

Her father came outside looking furious,

as soon as the bike he did clock.

‘Whatever possessed you to lend it to Angus’

he said. ‘I’ll have words with his father, Jock’.

 

In tears she ran indoors to her mother,

who comforted her as she took stock,

of the unfortunate situation,

as Angus limped off at a galloping trot.

 

 

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