March 16, 2012

 

Improve your looks,  renovate your face,

Have plastic surgery, just in case.

 

Your crows feet are now growing toes,

Don’t go outside when the cold wind blows.

 

Conceal your past, cleanse your mind,

The new you is here – and oh, so refined.

 

Recycle your thoughts, yesterday doesn’t matter,

You can’t join in any wartime chatter !

 

Look into the mirror, are you still there?

Oh my Goodness, there’s some grey in your hair!

 

Your laughter lines have gone under the knife,

And the heart bypass should extend your life.

 

But tell me truly, what is the point!

with arthritis creeping into every joint.

 

You’re bottom is sagging and to tell you straight,

You seem to me to be overweight!

 

You look like an oddity, something’s not right.

What on earth do you see, when you undress at night ?

 

The pain of death is so hard to bear,

Knowing you are no longer there.

Just a hollow emptiness

And utter despair.

No point in carrying on.

 

The things we did, the life we had,

We saw it through, both good and bad.

Just a broken heart,

So very sad.

No point in carrying on.

 

I cannot handle this sudden life change.

My affairs I just can’t rearrange.

Just a pointless void,

I feel so strange.

No point in carrying on.

 

They say in time I will feel better.

That I should sit and write a letter.

But, I was dead

Before I met her.

No point in carrying on.

 

We were soul mates in every sense.

Though that is still no recompense.

In fact it’s worse, from here on, hence

No point in carrying on.

 

Today I think I can begin.

I’ve even put aside the gin.

This self indulgence

Is a sin.

Some point in carrying on.

 

 

 

 

                                        

Victorian values,

 Material wealth.

Where are the teachers

From bygone days?

 

Servants and kings,

Jesters who sing.

Horses and carriages,

Arranged marriages

 

Change for the better

Change for the worse

But still beware

 Of the witches curse.

 

Edwardian England

OccupiedFrance

Please take your partner,

For the next dance.

 

March 14, 2012

The love that you showed him throughout his life

Cannot be measured or deleted

For you gave him much joy, it has to be said 

Until his final breathe was completed

 

He cannot be replaced, nor should he be

He was precious beyond compare

You need some time to grieve for him

Which of course, is only fair

 

 Dogs live so long, they become family

They are loyal and trusting, it’s true

And only you know what tomorrow will bring

Maybe even a CAT or two!

 

So you mustn’t be sad,  just remember his ways

And the fun that you had through the years

He’ll stay in your mind and pop into your thoughts

Helping  you smile through your tears.

Cups and saucers on silver trays,

What better sight on sunny days?

 

Sat in the garden on the bench,

In the company of a sprightly wench.

 

I’ll have some sugar, two lumps please.

Oh, you are a sweet little tease.

 

I’ll chase you round the apple tree,

But only after I’ve taken tea.

 

These shortbread biscuits are divine,

Perhaps you’d like a drop of wine?

 

And another glass, maybe?

Yes, that’s better…. Sod the tea.

 

Let’s get merry in case we die.

Let not our life just pass us by.

 

Each second wasted is a loss,

Oh look! There goes an albatross

 

Let’s make hay whilst the sun doth shine,

Isn’t life just so sublime

 

 

Oh, we laughed until the cows came home

The joy we felt was beyond compare

We never thought for a moment

That next morning, he wouldn’t be there.

 

 

 

It must have been the

scented aroma of

seasonal clementines

that aroused her senses

and made her recall the

first time she lay with

him,  in a house with

far too many bodies and far

too few beds – all quite

innocent – until daybreak

dawned when their future

was sealed and how they

squealed!

 

 

 

 

Unjust infiltration

And seasonal brussel sprouts

Rudimentary radishes

And nagging self doubts

All perishable commodities

All five-a-day louts

 

 

The clickety-clack of the railway track

Taking me back, taking me back.

Standing room only

I’m about to crack.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

Squashed next to a girl

Exposing her breasts

Taking me back, taking me back.

To when I was a lad

And a thrust I could pack

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

The train is delayed

From the wife I’ll get flack

Taking me back, taking me back.

Outside it is raining

And I haven’t a mac

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack.

The will to live

Is what I lack.

Taking me back, taking me back.

 

March 12, 2012

 

 

The corn fed chicken was free to roam

The farmyard paths that it called home .

 

The greedy pig used to like to scoff,

All the rubbish that was in the trough.

 

The gaggle of geese would stand so proud

But when they spoke, my god, they were loud.

 

The resident sheepdog was ever so bright,

He was the only one to see the light.

 

 Old MacDonald had long since died,

‘Not before time,’ his wife she sighed.

 

The children had gone to pastures new

But the cows still stood  and sang with a moo.

 

The little old donkey in the far off grass

Backed up to the fence to scratch his ass.

 

The buttercups swayed in the gentle breeze

As the cat sat scratching away at its fleas.

 

Life seemed good – It was a normal day

As the farmhand romped away in the hay.

 

 

 

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