January 22, 2014

 

 

 

Attention to detail has now

all gone to pot.

Slackness and sloppiness

in evidence, where once not.

 

A quick touch of paint,

a polish and dust,

now replaced by shabby chic,

full of woodworm and rust.

 

A tut-tut often heard

from a generation past,

as kids reclaim all the junk,

that was thrown out with aghast.

 

 

 

January 15, 2014

 

Two leaves that touched

then fluttered by

fell to earth

from treetops high.

 

Both without identity

though with finger prints,

and changing colours

of matching tints.

 

Perhaps there was hope

they could re-unite

with the help of a breeze

at the dead of night.

 

Maybe once again

their paths could cross

so as to build a life

on settled moss.

 

Not too long left

each knew they had

before in frost

they would be clad.

 

If only they could

think the same,

and shelter from

the pending rain.

 

What would each do

the other thought,

recalling the lessons

they had been taught.

 

Then, as if by magic

instinct came,

to both, at once –

each thought, the same.

 

 They both had seen

a nettle bush,

under which to sit

to avoid a crush.

 

One instinctively knew,

by now, that the other,

would float straight to it

for protective cover.

 

And two seconds after

the first landed there,

the other arrived

and they became a pair.

 

written by Harriet Blackbury

 

 

 

Don’t let him anywhere near your nibbles,

as his eyes will start to glow.

As soon as you put them on show,

he will sense them before you know.

 

He will grab handfuls of your do-dah’s,

as well as crisps, for which he’s yearned.

And to top that, your nuts he’ll snatch,

just as soon as your back is turned.

 

 

 

 

He was very musically minded,

from the day that he was born.

At nine he withdrew his savings,

and bought himself a horn.

 

He was very passionately inclined,

and did five children spawn,

then was forced to have the snip,

so back he went, to playing his horn.

 

 

 

 

One compensates

for the other.

It’s how couples

interact.

Each one taking

on separate

responsibilities

and drawing

on strengths

in a silent pact.

 

It’s how lasting

relationships evolve.

Each completing

their able task.

True; no two

marriages

are the same,

but the ones

that survive,

in glory bask.

 

 

 

 

 

 

With his future

hanging in the balance,

and the very next game

deciding his fate,

the referee makes

one wrong decision,

and the job’s bollocks’d;

all hope of fairness, too late.

 

 

 

 

 

He was known as

Uncle Erasmus,

and locals trusted

him with their life.

 

But a shadow,

ever watchful,

tracked him from

Bude to Fife.

 

A new identity

he had taken,

when first he

left his wife.

 

He lived in fear

of being exposed,

as his leaving

caused much strife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sloth is the devil

of mankind,

and the severed head

of the demon dread.

 

And if you don’t take

yourself off to bed,

I swear no more

those stairs you’ll tread.

 

You may think it cool

to have ‘street cred’,

but the time has come,

to go earn some bread.

 

The game is over,

I’m so seeing red.

This battle of wills,

is now at a head.

 

 

 

 

 

Please relieve me of impulsiveness

that gets me into so much mess,

and my forthright opinionated garble,

that causes others so much distress.

 

Please relieve me of smart–arse answers

to questions, not even to me, are addressed,

and of my constant second guessing,

that makes me sound like such a pest.

 

Please relieve me of all irritation

I may cause throughout the day,

by keeping me away from idiots,

who somehow seem to come my way.

 

 

January 12, 2014

 

 

A cat; a crutch

in times of need.

A dog; a walk

when he brings his lead.

A parrot; a copy

of the wife.

A  goldfish; a pal

who gets on with his life.

 

 

 

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