August 24, 2013

 

 

Never lonely, never blue,

always thinking, just of you.

 

Never recovered from when you flew,

never moved on to pastures new.

 

Ever stronger my love grew,

the longer I was without you.

 

Never sad, nor did I rue,

decades thinking just of you.

 

Ever loyal, not did I woo

another love to replace you.

 

Never searching, ever true,

I found the best there was in you.

 

 

 

 

In a world where wisdom

came, alas, too late,

leaving blatant mistakes

theirs alone to contemplate.

 

And when lost leaders,

were never worth the wait,

and last minute changes,

only came to grate.

 

And when given the chance,

the opportunity wasn’t hatched,

as too much self bravado,

greedily, ego snatched.

 

With no Plan B in place

in case disaster struck,

in the end it all came down

to purely gamblers luck.

 

The dice were so unkind

and yes, also unfair.

In the game of self promotion-

you get nothing for a pair.

 

And now the journey over,

and so futile though it seems,

for at the time, the madness,

caused blindness in extreme.

 

Most onlookers departed,

each shaking a doubting head,

in united disagreement,

and then, in silence fled.

 

And in the end, exhilarated,

the devil took control,

as his victims lay defeated

and agony took it’s toll.

 

 

 

 

Do you want to meet up

in that shady nook,

where, as youngsters and lovers,

of love, we partook?

 

Do you dare to reopen

your memory book,

and relive times long forgotten

that on the back burner cook?

 

Or do you care to resist,

and not even look,

at that time, when as lovers,

of love, we mistook?

 

 

 

 

 

 

When a heart is already broken,

and the biggest loss in life has occurred,

one becomes almost bullet-proof,

lost in a world where feeling aren’t stirred.

 

For to function and operate normally,

and fit into the human race,

one has to act out the motions,

and appear with a smiling face.

 

And although the world keeps on turning,

and tries to gather one up in its wake,

one can only deal with grief in ones own way,

before coming to terms with ones heartache.

 

 

 

August 22, 2013

 

 

Pixie perked up when

the rent man was due.

He came every Tuesday

on the dot at two.

 

At two fifteen, he was

nowhere to be seen.

Her payment complete

he’d vanished from the scene.

 

On Wednesday she changed pace

when the gas man knocked,

as Dora from next door,

his van, had clocked.

 

Knowing she was being timed

only added to her stress,

so she paid him in the hall,

in full – well, more or less.

 

Friday was her busy night

Two both came together-

The Pools man and the Milkman –

the dog she had to tether.

 

Saturday she rested,

her bills all paid in full.

She welcomed hubby home

from his trip to Istanbul.

 

 

 

 

There’s something up

the chimney, Dad.

The dog has tried

to sniff it out.

 

He’s been going

mad all day, Dad.

I gave him

such a clout.

 

The soot has ruined

the carpet, Dad.

I had to throw

It out.

 

I raked the ashes

and cinders, Dad,

and frankly,

I found nowt.

 

The only way to

quieten the dog, Dad,

was to give him

your bottled stout!

 

There’s something up

the chimney, Dad.

Until it’s found,

I’m not about.

 

I’m off to stay

with Wilfred, Dad,

until it’s

sorted out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

August 16, 2013

 

 

Aren’t we all just

a little bit ancient,

by thinking of

ourselves as hip?

 

Aren’t we all just

a little bit yesterday,

as soon as we hear

the umbilical cord snip.

 

Aren’t we all just

a product of ageism,

when into the pool of youth

our toes we dip.

 

Aren’t we all just

old sods from the sixties,

still trying to do a

backward flip!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only a fool would

hang around unwanted,

when cursed and belittled

and scorned

 

Only an idiot would settle

for being taken for granted,

when used and abused

by a monster, horned.

 

Only a friend would

see beneath it,

and accept a heart

that is torn.

 

Only an angel could

cope with a devil,

that has entered

a soul un-warned.

 

 

 

 

 

Penetration

Incubation

Realisation

Manifestation

Devastation.

 

 

 

 

What man when tempted

by a vamp,

who with blatant intentions

enters his camp,

can resist her wiles

and tricks of her trade,

sophisticatedly hidden

behind some masquerade.

 

What man when helpless,

yet, powerless to act,

doesn’t a scenario,

in his head, re-enact.

What woman indoors

with her watering can,

doesn’t cold water pour,

on his fantasy plan.

 

 

 

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