Back where I once lived

I went back to the place I once lived

Not the best thing to do unless you're brave

As you see the changes made without you

Spying the house where your were once born

In fact it makes you feel quite forlorn

I remembered it as calm and grey

Photos of those times were black and white

Adjusting now to a vivid scene

Trying to step back all those long years

If I was not strong I'd be in tears

As I wandered round the now posh street

The owner of our house now appeared

Intent on using his stepladder

To clean a window or some such thing

Told him I once lived there, he did grin

He wanted to show me what he'd done

So in we went to see every room

All changed, kitchen, bathroom, garden too

Polished floorboards and red queen sized bed

Was offered snack, I declined, enough said?

The past is the past, so let it be

That impromptu visit hurt, trust me

Photo of house found at www.chartersestateagents.com

Changing the bucket

 

Living in my retirement now

In apartment no place to go

Takes me back to days of gardens green

Filled with bright flowers and growing beans

Fruit trees with apples crisp and red

But being a lad ealy to bed

Large kitrchen to cook and eat meals

Smell of cinnamon quite appeals

Mum wielding knife with expertise

As she rolls pastry strips with such ease

We try in turns to copy her

They're oven bound doesn't worry her

"We'll go for a short walk" she says

We're getting a visit from Les

For the nightsoil man comes every week

She needs to escape from that reek

So off we go as he arrives

Thank goodness for she'd saved our lives

We cover our noses as he did start

Oven cares for tarts

We walk to woods picking flowers

Watching squirrels, making bowers

"Time now" says Mum "To check our tart"

He's gone" meaning the nightsoil cart

Image found at www.pixabay.com

Yesterday when things were worse

Wake up to the sirens drone
I was small but not alone
Sound was like a mournful scream
Blinds drawn so our lights are not seen

I am a small boy once again
See my mother's eyes in pain
Dad's in London fire watching
It is wartime no time to sing

We hear the planes up in the sky
Can't look out even if I try
Blackout curtains do make sure
If light seen warden will knock door

Under the table we huddle
Pillows, blankets and cuddle
Quietly I fall asleep
Wake up in bed heard not one peep

Mother must have put me to bed
Now it's morning I'm not dead
So must get up, off to school
Can't miss the bus that is the rule

The bus is late, I can see why
Buildings bombed Mum starts to cry
Hoping dad will soon come back
Working all night he'll hit the sack

Dad arrived when we got back home
Shrapnel gift from a dropped bomb
Showed it off at school next day
Kids crowd around at break for play

I liked watching planes overhead
Or listen to them when in bed
War's horrid I've seen it all
Still recall it now standing tall

Image found at https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00x543b

Visit from daughter and family

Where have they gone, those days of the past?
Sat by smoking fire at our place at last
Our dog pushes in front to singe his fur
Cat comes too and receives warning Grr!
We all breathe in to be close to the hearth
Jill soon comes out with kids fresh from the bath

They grin having had fun in the frothy water
Now they're hand in hand with Jill my daughter
She loves coming to this cottage of ours
They're here in one of her husbands posh cars
She'll drive home (he likes a whisky or two)
Or book taxi for they have money to

We had a good meal they like dining out
All dishes were empty no messing about!
We gave them some eggs thought that would be fair
She had been cutting and setting my hair
She touched me gently helped to lift me up
House felt empty, kids now gone, we washed up



Image found at Pinterest.com

The pub in town

I went back there again
To the place I was born
The village with a church on the hill

We walked everywhere there
Until I got a bike
A present after I had been ill

Then I rode everywhere
Train station was the best
To see steam locos to my fill

Me standing there smoke drenched
Writing numbers on a pad
That was my life until I met Jill

With her black polished shoes
And tank top that she wore
More like me than a girl with a frill

Together until our teens
Riding bikes one fine day
She said words that really made me ill

She was leaving our town
Better school, better stores
Those things really gave her a thrill

So I lost her; she's gone
Teen love hurts quite a lot
Until spring came then I met April

Her dad ran pub in town
Often left on our own
Parents in bar, we kissed to our fill

Image found at www.pixabay.com

Young and Foolish

I remember those days when I was 'young and foolish'
'Falling in love' with every pretty girl in school
Mother said 'Don't let them pull the wool over your eyes'
After she saw me brooding for 'I was such a fool'

'Needless to say' one lass named Enid that was so cute
We always sat studying in the school's library
We chatted a lot about art and of other things
Then one day our fingers touched, not accidentally!

'This was my moment in the sun' we became good friends
When school bell did ring I walked her to the bus stop
Thought she was 'spitting image' of a famous film star
We're so fickle as foolish me 'let the bubble pop'

Years later I saw her 'quite by chance' in city far off
Our eyes met, we both smiled but said not one word that day
Mind you I was married then with kids one, two and three
The past 'water under the bridge' is all I can say

Image found at www.pixabay.com

Musing over museums

What I do like about travel
Is that some places you visit
It's like entering a museum

One is entranced by unique views
As you leave crowded airport
The buildings are all different

In Holland windmills wave at you
And you get lost in Amsterdam
For not one road seems to be straight

In London and Paris museums 
Hide from traffic and tall buildings
Spires, domes and bridges and transport

Whilst in Rome and and wet Venice
Seem to be like museums themselves
Where time appears to stand stock still

Why do we revel in long gone past
For we don't really learn from it
We make mistakes over again

And when we progress, we still fail
to anticipate the future
Or live peaceably with others

Of all the mammals on Earth
We are the ugliest there is
Love profit whilst ruin our home

For now our climate is changing
To endanger our existence
And even balance of nature

Just how stupid to have done this?
Over thousands of years living
To leave none to visit museums

Image found at www.inexhibit.com.locations/london-museums-exhibitions

Having the urge

Ever since childhood I've had that urge
To collect something, that can't be purged
Noting steam loco's numbers on railway line
As a youngster at stations suited me fine

Then was a fad for collecting birds eggs
Thinking of that now makes my mind beg
Stamp collecting was a far gentler sport
Learn't geography from this as I ought

But growing up led to far milder ways
So bird watching with wife spent many days
I collected old postcards whilst rain showers
And she spent time doing jig-saws for hours

But getting old makes one recall the past
So I gave family history a blast
To delve in those days of another age
You find the method to turn back time's page

And how you laugh at their indiscretions
Large families, funny names and passions
So many children and many a death
It makes you want to gasp with such sad breath 

What will people think knowing your passion?
Perhaps they'll wish to have the same intention
Or look at you with strange contemplation
'Cos they're glued to Netflix on television

Image found at https://pxabay.com/photos/steam-train-haverthwaite-railway-3874986/