February 1, 2015

 

 

I caught his eye,

his tail wagged to and fro,

and boredom from

his mind did go.

 

The connection just

the bond he needed,

when tethered to a table

feeling so impeded.

 

He’d sat and stood,

and lay and rolled.

God, he was bored;

his face a story told.

 

All he yearned for

was a lengthy walk,

but all they did,

was sit and talk,

 

and talk and talk,

and rant and rave,

about sod all,

just her and Mave.

 

With him not being

a ‘working dog’,

each day to him

was just groundhog.

 

Just then he saw,

his mistress stand,

but not a glove did she

put on her hand,

 

instead she trotted

off to the bar,

to order desserts,

after adjusting her bra.

 

In disbelief, the dog

slumped back to the floor,

and licked his balls,

til they were sore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Throw off that blanket

of anonymity, and ride

bare-back into the

unknown.

 

 

 

 

She often sits

and wonders why,

when as a child

she was so shy.

 

If asked a question,

she would blush;

in her pants, a wee,

came with a rush.

 

If asked to sing alone,

in the assembly choir,

A well rehearsed faint,

she would acquire.

 

A shrinking violet.

A timid tilly.

In navy knickers,

she felt so silly.

 

She hated school;

preferring not to have gone.

Dyslexia never recognised,

til she was twenty one.

 

 

 

 

He spent all of his childhood

dreaming of becoming a soldier:

His folks hoping for a change of mind

as he grew older!

 

His mother tried to guide him

towards other occupations,

that she thought best suited

to his artistic creations. 

 

However, his mind never shifted

from his ultimate plan,

and on his eighteenth birthday

he joined up, and became a man.

 

He was soon on his travels,

his training complete;

The dream of a lifetime,

where he could compete.

 

He fought on the front line;

no fear did he feel,

but his very first supper,

proved to be his last meal.

 

A dream of a lifetime,

finally obtained,

but the outcome bewildering,

and never explained.

 

 

January 18, 2015

 

 

A dove flew by

to tell me,

that you were

doing fine.

 

He said you

loved me still,

and that I

mustn’t pine.

 

A second dove

then joined him,

and whispered

in his ear,

 

saying you’d

sent a PS

that I should

wipe away my tear!

 

 I told the doves

to go back,

and tell you to

take a better view.

 

The tears are

for myself

as I have the

bloomin’ Flu.

 

and they’ll also

have a PS,

when back to you

they swoop.

 

I’m sure you’ve

guessed my message,

with this hint,

of pending poop!

 

You see the 

crux of the matter,

(so hard to deal with,

I find.)

 

is that I can’t

forgive you Darling,

for leaving me

behind!

 

 

 

 

And the end came again,

as that feeling kicked in.

The one buried deep,

and held firmly within,

that temporarily surges

when chaos abounds,

before faithful stoicism,

a crisis surrounds.

 

 

 

 

And in the evening

when she knew,

she kept it from him,

and withdrew.

 

Some peace she needed;

some sleep was due.

So she rang next day,

as if her news brand new.

 

 

 

 

The next one will be

a compromise.

No bad thing when seen,

through wiser eyes.

 

Hard lessons learnt

after sad goodbyes,

though love lives on,

as the final prize.

 

 

 

 

 

‘I know’ she said;

‘I’ve always known’!

‘But I don’t worry about,

what I can’t condone’.

‘No point to grumble

and to groan.

That’s why I choose

to be alone.

 

 

 

January 16, 2015

 

 

‘The next stop will be

London Marylebone’,

taped words that echo

through the carriage.

The train mostly full of daily

commuters, who collect

their belongings in readiness

to go about their routine,

now swarm like a disturbed

ant hill onto the platform.

Some hail taxi’s, some queue

for buses, others melt away

in a filtered frenzy towards

Marylebone Road.

There’s a crowd gathered at

the rear entrance of the

Landmark Hotel, waiting to

catch a glimpse of footballers

climbing into their team coach,

before being whisked away for

another midweek game.

A few passengers hurry off

to the left into Dorset Square,

paying homage to Dodie Smith,

as they walk passed her home,

where a well earned blue plaque

appears on the wall. She, being

best remembered for her delightful

tale about a hundred and one tails.

A further trickle of passengers

walk out of the stations side exit

towards Lisson Grove, passing

the Seashell, notably one of the

smartest fish & chip shops in

miles, ( the possibility of a fish

supper, a thought that helps

get them through the day).

But for now, it’s business as usual,

and all is well in the Capitol.

 

 

 

 

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