December 3, 2012

 

 

The expectation

The razzamatazz

The once a year parties

filled with pizzazz.

The over indulgence

The extra drink they insist,

and with time forgotten,

the last train home missed.

The slip of the tongue

The cocky remark

‘Nothing meant personally mate,

just having a lark’.

The battle from nowhere

The verbal attack

Pals trying to restrain you,

but copping the whack.

Then homeward bound

by taxi that costs,

just as dawn is breaking,

with the morning frost.

And finally –

A punch on the nose

and a dig in the ribs

from her indoors

for telling her fibs.

 

 

 

November 28, 2012

 

 

I have been stood here holding

a ten pound note in my hand for

the last nine minutes, in readiness

to pay for my tray of food.

I am the only man in the queue.

The delay is simply because all

these gasbags in front of me haven’t

even thought about how they’ll pay, and

wouldn’t dream of searching for their purses

until they reach the front of the counter.

Once their purses are found, they then open

and close endless compartments before

discovering they haven’t enough small change

to pay for their items, and then they have to

go delving into their bags again, unzipping

various other hidden areas where, presumably,

bank notes and credit cards are stuffed away.

The delay isn’t over once they’ve paid – Oh no,

they then proceed to put their loose change

or cards safely away, whilst still in pole position,

instead of moving off to one side, so as to allow

the next person to be served.

What I find even more exasperating is that

it’s these very same women who are the ones

complaining that

‘It takes forever to get served in here’.

 

God, give me strength!

 

 

 

 

She only gave me a massage dear!

My bones were in need of a rub.

It’s included in the ‘1st Class’ service,

but I didn’t join the ‘mile high’ club.

 

 

 

 

 

Whilst fiddling with his twiddly bits,

he came across a lump.

He asked his wife to have a feel, and

when she did, it made him jump.

‘Best get it checked out right away’

she urged with great concern, ‘as Uncle

Barney died of that, so hard lessons

we must learn’.

 

 

 

 

‘Shut up’ is just too strong a phrase,

to say in public places.

‘Be quiet’ is also impolite, and would

cause frowning faces.

But if ‘please’ preceded both of these,

each would then fit in, with social graces.

 

 

 

 

 

I’m truly listening, even though I’m

not looking at you, so please carry

on with your story. I’ve probably heard

it before, or at least a hundred versions

of it, but please, do continue, you have

my undivided attention, honestly.

 

 

 

 

For now, you’ll do for now,

not forever mind, but for now

is fine. You fill a void, you tend

my needs, you stem the bleed.

For now, means just until, but

with the morning light, the tree

could lose a bow, anyhow, let’s

live for now.

 

 

 

 

 

She heard his voice, and knew in  

seconds they’d be face to face.

She heard his nearing footsteps

and felt her heartbeat gather pace.

 

 

November 27, 2012

 

 

He had the delicate touch of a lump hammer.

His comments were always pile driven.

He attempted humour where angels fled.

His naivety,  not always forgiven.

 

 

 

 

A broken promise,

a scurrilous deed.

An act of treason,

based on need.

An altercation,

where handbags flew,

when she discovered

he’d slept with you.

 

 

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