The morning after

I still feel woozy

Yes I remember drinking

Until late last night

A voice in ymy head

Now mentions a thoughtless swine

The wife’s on the phone

Talking to her friend

But I cleaned up the bathroom

Why is she uptight?

Image found at www.cunooz.com

Where her heart was

Granny May had been in hospital for many weeks. Her recovery was slow from her surgery. They thought they had lost her but she slowly pulled through. Jim her son worried how she would manage after she returned home as she insisted she would return to her cottage on the outskirts of town where she had lived for so many years.  Gramps her long dead husband had lived with her until he died and she said he would expect to find her when he came back to her!

So Jim got his own son Paul and Laura his girlfriend to go round and tidy up the place before she returned as she still had a few weeks rehab. They were lucky it was spring for they soon got stuck into it weeding and pruning and planting seedlings so that she could enjoy the garden as she recuperated. Once it was cleared the annuals showed their faces again and the roses now were bursting into bloom. The bees were buzzing around the fruit trees with so much work to do.

They cleaned up her cottage too but not too much or else Granny would not know where they had put things away. However it was tidy again and everything shone just like the sun and the clock was ticking once more.

Jim brought Granny May home and she sighed with satisfaction that she had finally returned. “Let me put on the kettle” she said “but first I must look at my garden there must be lots to do”.

Tears came to her eyes when she found that so much work had been done and that her grandson Paul was sitting on the garden seat waving to her as she looked over the luxuriant blooms and by his side she could see Laura cuddled up close. 

                                         She smiled her eyes beamed

                                       The garden where her heart was

                                               Greeted her in bloom

Image found at www.flower-gardening-made-easy.com

Don't fence me in

My sweet wife nudged me

After all these years

The city called

No, ordered I move

To the office in town

We had to shift

Or lose my job

Sweet wife had visions

Apartment with views

Balcony for tea

And all shining new

Our new luxury pad

Singing praises

Her poem of joy

I’d been a city child

Raised in a brick flat

My youth’s hell

Communal balcony

Entrance for all

Dirty windows

And constant noise

Escape to the country                    

Dancing at village hall                               

Kids riding horses 

My wife now smiles

This was now our plan

Don't fence me in

With city's railings       

Image found at www.visitsweden.com                 

Spinning ball

Audible sad sighs
Spinning ball chooses its home
On the roulette's wheel

Casino visit
All dressed up for the evening
I am bust I say

Sally stares amazed
She just doesn't believe me
Just kidding I say

You're just not meant to win
You cannot beat the system
We move to the bar

Music is playing
Relaxing background
Cheap drinks, more to bet

This place exists
If it is how you like your kicks
Persuasive venue

Rather be with you
Than make a mess of my life
I think that trumps all

Image found at www.rouletteradar.com

By the wayside

Let me walk with you

As we did long years ago

When we were so young

Our legs were strong then

How we would run down the lane

First over the stile

I held your warm hand

In shy anticipation

That you would be mine

O how those years passed

I kissed you and breathed you in

How sweet was our love

Though the path is long

You left me by the wayside

To walk by myself

Image found at www.commons.wikimedia.org

Young Jimmy

Many, many years ago Fanny and her younger brother Jimmy lived with their parents in the woodman’s cottage in the forest where their father worked looking after the trees on the Gentleman’s estate.

One day the bailiff came to see the family and said the children now had to go to school as it is now was the law of the land; so each day from then on they had to walk to the village school to learn their lessons.

As they were older than many of the children there the teacher got them to help the little ones with their numbers and the alphabet whilst making sure they could write their names and do their sums and understand about the world outside the woods.

They were quite bright because living and helping their parents they knew much about land and the trees and how hard their parents worked.

The teacher told them about the world outside the forest, the country they lived and that the planet earth spun on it axis around the sun.

Young Jimmy shook his head sadly and protested, “I only know about the axes that my Dad chops the trees down with”.

Image found at www.bobcatterritory.com

Yes, your excellency

The president of the small republic walked sedately down the back steps of the presidential palace to enter the awaiting limousine. It was Friday and the day that he and his entourage would drive through the streets of the capital for him to be greeted by the populace who had been encouraged to line the streets for this regular farce. The president waved politely from behind his bullet proof window as the free paper flags distributed the day before were dutifully waved as he passed by and then thrown in the gutter when they walked home as he left them far behind. With his usual righteous sanctimoniousness he nodded to his aide by his side “I do like meeting the people” now let us return home to the palace. Just then his bullet proof limousine braked and swerved across the tree lined avenue.

The president automatically crouched down on the floor and whispered “What’s happening, what’s happening?”

His aide, checked out the street spoke to the driver and then turned to the president still hiding on the floor, “It alright now sire it was only a pathetic crippled child crawling across the street, but we managed to avoid him.”

“Have him arrested and removed from the city. I have told you before that the streets must be cleared of vermin before I greet the people.”

“Yes, your Excellency, I’ll speak to chief of police.” 

Image found at www.abc.net.au

Embracing the wild

What beaten track is this?                                     

Shakes her head, that’s no fun                         

The birds will avoid us                                           

So we must search them out                                

She said laughing out loud                                                          

Who was I to argue?                                              

People were far away                                                                    

Going about their business                                              

We were lost in the bush                                                   

So sat down, ate our lunch                                               

How blissful it now was                                         

The sweet scent of gum trees                               

Birds came to check on us                                    

While we kept very still                                          

We were adjudged harmless                                

They gossiped by themselves                              

A wombat shuffled by                                            

Snakes feared our heavy tread

Kangaroos scratched idly

There’s nothing better than

Embracing the wild

Choosing the other path

New Holland Honeyeater image found at www.homelife.com.au

Kangaroo image found at www.flickr.com

You see me not

What charming words of love can I speak

For each time I see you I am struck dumb

It’s like receiving a sweet birthday present

But find joy choking my deepest feelings

Thus rather than dazzling you with my wit

My mind in awe, is stumped, speechless

Resolution pared away like orange peel

I watch the way you move with grace

What weapons you have to lure me

You sweet hazel eyes entrance me

Your lips almost beg to be kissed

This yearning rots my poor soul

It spanks, no cruelly tortures me

Now eroding my will to dare enter

Those open gates to paradise

Lest I cause you to bear

Some small resentment

Of my deep affection

But you see me not

So I weep for you

Quite alone

Image found at www.sodahead.com

Late for the train

I lay in the valley of your breasts

How sweet the scent of morning

Trying to avoid that call to work

And you evicting me from our bed

Sadly I must flee very soon

Dash off with the rising sun

For my daily commute to town

To arrive in the nick of time

Just why do we live two lives?

She opens her eyes and pleads with me

Then whispers those beguiling words

Stay home, help me with the washing

Who could deny the lure of that?

My resolve subsides, I smile at her

The only day I can’t get free, I moan

We both sigh with disappointment

The trick of happiness is to lie

Especially when the fearful threat

Of domesticity beckons you

As out I run late for the train

Image found at www.classociates.org.uk

How cruel we are

      

I can’t get over how cruel we are to coffee beans. Bred like battery hens in unending rows fed and watered never knowing freedom being raised for mankind's strange sadistic pleasure.

Then just as their mother feels that joy of procreation her countless children are ripped from her, dried out, tortured by roasting in some satanic ritual that has no kin to the natural world just to be encased in strange sepulchres of Hessian sacks and glared at, probed, tested and finally roasted and either crushed to crumbs or left intact entombed in glass or metal containers to be stared at by strange human beings who purchase these burial chambers and take them home to be placed in dark cupboards only to be worshipped at their bidding in further acts of bestiality.

These poor children’s remains and those beans who are not yet as dust are now sadistically ground in these animals homes and placed in sacrificial cauldrons and boiled gleefully with water specifically at the right temperature. Then to cap it all the hot sea of crushed coffee children is then placed in sacred drinking vessels whilst these insane humans sip gratefully at the hot mix muttering strange sighs such as “I needed that” or “I can’t start the day without my coffee”. I hope the guilt of their experience keeps them awake for such glee at our children’s funeral.

Image at top found at www.rawstory.com
Image at bottom found at www.mypromolike.com

A shot rang out

He lined up with hundreds of others and jostled for position trying to make sure they could run free when they could

A shot rang out and suddenly as if in panic the whole crowd of started surging forward fearful of those running after them.

There was jostling and pushing trying not to fall over and being crushed by the others desperately trying to catch them.

On and on they went through the crowded streets, up hill, across bridges with everyone trying to flee those thundering behind.

Younger, fitter ones overtook him and didn’t even glance to see if he was safe being so much older than the rest.

Finally after many miles, worn out sweating and gasping for breath he finally felt he had made it and crossed the tape for he had completed his first run in the City-Bay run and finished in nine hundred and twenty fifth place. 

Image found at www.capegazette.villagesoup.com

Goyder's Line

They were new settlers
A promised land of milk and honey
He knew it was just damned hard work

Fifty acres of bush land                                                     

Each day he labored hard to clear it                                

While pregnant Sharon milked the goat                         

Noxious weeds thrived there                                            

Trees as iron stubborn as he was                                    

The dog shook his head at the flies                                 

His plough shear struck rock                                            

The creek chose not to flow in summer                          

Finally he now had a son                                                 

They lasted a few years                                                     

But the crops would not grow without rain                     

They walked off the land penniless                                

The land breathed again                                                   

Haphazard bushland reclaimed its own             

‘Til miners and cattle men came                                      

In 1865 George Goyder, Surveyor General of South Australia determined that growing crops in the north of South Australia where the average rainfall was less than 10 inches a year was not viable. The remains of many abandoned farmhouses is still a reminder of that.

Image found at www.flickr.com

Let your song be delicate

I wooed a singer                                          

Just what did she see in me?                   

This tone deaf artist                                    

But she drew me in                                    

She tripped hither and thither             

For me it was love                                      

As she sweetly sang                                  

Her green eyes did search me out           

Such was her deep love

Our romance blossomed

Delicate flower of mine

And so we were wed

What more can I tell

Is that her voice singing now

From heaven’s abode?

Though she has gone far

She comforts this sad old man 

In his long black night

Sing, sing on my love
Let your song be delicate
I dream of you still

Image of chorus of peris (fairies) in 'Iolanthe' found at www.musicals101.com
Yes, my late wife was a chorus girl in Iolanthe many years ago.

Timeless memories

Timeless memories

It was a moonless night

The stars too were shy

Twinkling at me

Like cute schoolgirls

Walking home from school

What were their names

Gone from my memory

Rolling down the hill of life

My heart’s still pulsing

At such a sweet thought

It moves me to tears

Furrows my old brow

My hopes turned to dust

Floating away with the days

As these cruel years

Keep rolling along

I am powerless now

It’s not what we have done

But what we have not

That is the rub in life

Image found at flickrhivemind.net

In this strange city

He did not turn up

Tears drizzled down her face

Her heart was broken

She was left alone

After he had agreed to meet

In this strange city

Ripe for adventure

This was no a birthday treat

But danger itself

She was far from home

Jetsam washed on a strange shore

Line of safety gone

Fear sprouts in her mind

Who was silhouetted there?

Thank heavens, it’s Dad

Image of Rain in the City by Julie Hutchison found at www.southwestart.com

Art was an artist

Art was an artist

Rob broke into many banks

Prudence was just shy

Brian was brainless

Jay walked straight across the street

But Paul was revered

Omar bridged the gap

Oscar often won awards

Jack was real card

Chris went into church

Matthew told the gospel truth                   

Martha sat by Chris

Melody’s song soared

Young Dora was an explorer                                

Walt stole a wallet

John imagined things

Paul wrote some silly love songs

George sang my sweet lord

Some of the above are obvious others merely wordplay or juxtaposition of letters but I would be pleased to see if anyone can guess who Omar was!

Image found at www.guff.com

She would flick her hair

I thought she was perfect but sadly she was engaged to Harry Smithers and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it.

I suppose it was the look in her eyes that first attracted me to her for they were like soft dark pools of mystery with a touch of laughter.

Then there were her pretty hands and you will think me strange that by just seeing the way she moved them as she spoke would make her that much more desirable.

However it was the spark of life in her every movement that was the clincher for me, such as the way she would flick her hair when speaking to emphasize a point or stare right into your eyes (well mine really) when in conversation.

Did Harry know what a gem he had, I think not because he confided in me one day that it wasn’t working out for the two of them for some reason, while I shook my head sadly.

I sympathized by saying “I’ll try and keep in touch with her” which was just as well I did as we got married a few months later.

Image found at www.whodesignedit.com

I awoke early

I awoke early

There’s a faint glimmer of light

On the room's window

This day like most days

Slaps me hard around the face

So I am still here

Death is impartial

His absence means I get up

Rather than sleep on

It has been raining

Someone’s been crying for me

Well that’s a comfort

I really love life

Which seems is my fatal flaw 

She will flirt with me

Image found at www.phead.com

Remembering

Now lest you think me a pagan ass

Remember I talk with forked tongue                              

Once when I was so very young                                      

At school I sat dumb in Latin class                                   

Why was I learning a language dead                              

Spake by Romans as conquests they made                  

As with nubile maidens down they laid                          

Except now by chemists to earn their bread                  

I was bored completely in my brain                                 

So carved my initials in the desk’s top                           

My knuckles wrapped soon did make me stop               

Teacher said my future was down the drain                   

If only he’d told of their heroic deeds                              

Monsters and voyages far from home                                       

Of gods and goddesses sowing seeds                           

Then my mind would not have roamed                         

I couldn’t wait for the class to end                                             

To get out on the sports field with a ball                          

Then joyfully homeward I could wend
Now hand in hand with my sweet gal                            

Image of Perseus saving Andromeda found at www.en.wikipedia.org

A talk with you

Hello my forest friends
You’re not so different from me

Why did we part company

Something in our DNA

Or just our poor manners

May I walk among you

Can I cross that wide bridge

Skirt our stagnant pond

Sit down and talk with you

Please don’t show your teeth

We are so much alike

Cells, organs, hearts beat as one

But what we have kills us

It’s money that we worship

An ivory tower we cannot escape

That maleficent power

Rules everything we do and say

Come secretly signal to me

Can we escape this compulsion

Be some value to the world again

There followed a long silence

Then a cold breeze blew up

The animals sadly shook their heads

My dog got up and joined them

In praise of rich nations

Can these verses speak
demanding answers for the wars
while you keep silent

Tell of its foul stench
scars inscribed on my people
poor shoeless children

Those planes flying now
Pretending to end conflict
Blood's scarlet stain spreads

It's a game you play
Big cash holdings in the bank
Though sadly we die

Image found at www.havacuppahemlock1.blogspot.com

Lover's lament

She turned in her sleep

So he wrapped his arm round her

Dreaming she murmured

“Darling Paul” she said

The wind’s late whispered warning

Did not reach her ears

He was gone by morn

Hunted by the family

Of the dead woman

They did not find him

Long drowned dead by his own hand

In the deep peat bog

I am so restless

My beautiful and most fair

Oh how I miss her

Image found at www.ballycroynationalpark.ie

Maggie May

Maggie May an old family friend of his mother’s had died so the lawyer’s letter had informed him and he was mentioned in the will.

Yes, he remembered her from when he was a small lad not yet at school for she looked after him at home when his own mother had worked in the wartime.

She was a widow from the Great War and had no children of her own so she loved being his minder.

He hadn’t seen her in for many years and was surprised that she even remembered him from so long ago but she had and left him all she had.

Her possessions were few and they would be hard to give away and would best taken to the dump except for one small box of her little treasures of a lifetime which mainly consisted of photos of him as a child.

He was content with that though as he could feel her love for him come through as he recalled all those times when she had been a mother to him.

Image found at www.ravepad.com

Twist of fate

Jim squirmed in his seat

Elastic contortionist on stage

He hated such acts

Amusing the crowd

Impossible shapes and turns

Only made him ache

So looked at her face

He then fell deeply in love

What a twist of fate

Image found at www.crystalkiss.com