No son-in-law and no grand children.
One more half-empty glass on my shelf.
One more sign that I failed as a mother.

No fancy house, no brand new car.
Not much in my bank account.
Another sign I failed as a mogul.

No accolades, no published works
A folio relatives said was dreary.
A very clear sign I failed as a poet.

All those years and all that sweat.
And everything came up a cropper.
At least I can say I excelled at failing.
ljm

I’ve always had this fantasy
That if you die and go to Heaven
You’re not aware of earthly things
But if somebody left below
Should think of you, a bell rings.

A bell that only you can hear
With such lovely tinkling sound
A bell that tells you someone cared
That someone’s thinking of your smile,
Remembering the times you’ve shared.

Other Angels all around
Are doing what the angels do
Then one will stop and tilt her head
And you know that she’s hearing things
And smiling with the joy it brings.
ljm

Am I to die with you still hating me
For something I never knew I did?
Has nothing I have done for you
In these last thirty-five heartbroken years
Earned me a tiny bit of your forgiveness?

I am old and sick and growing weak,
And life’s a struggle every day.
Your anger is a load almost too
Heavy for me to carry now,
But I can’t put it down because

My love for you has never wavered
And I nurture a small flame of hope
That some day you will realize
That I did the very best I could
With what I knew of parenting.

That I tried with all my heart to be
The television mom you longed for
And to master all the rules attached
That were impossible because
I couldn’t get past being who I am.

I so regret my imperfections
And the moments when I failed.
I’d give the last years of my life
To have a chance to try again
And maybe get it right this time.
          ljm

TRADE IN

I hate all this business
Of trying to do
What I want to do
And hampered by a
Creaky old body.

It ****** me off
When something hurts
And gets in the way
Of doing the things
I had carefully planned.

I want to complain
And go pound on God’s desk
And ask him for a refund
Or at the very least
Refurbishment.

I haven’t got time
To fall down in pain,
I’ve got hills to climb
And rivers to swim.
I can’t do that if I am crippled.

So dig out the warranty
Read the fine print
See how to get
Some replacements
So I can continue
To conquer this world

As the force of nature
That my Mama loosed            
On creation that
New Year’s day
Eighty-three long years ago.
     ljm

There is nothing
All the jars and cans
Sit empty on the shelves.
There is no hope for more.
The roads to everywhere are closed.
And Greyhound doesn’t stop here any more.

Everything is nebulous.
The equipment is all broken down
And rusting outside in the rain.
We ordered from a catalog
But never got a shipment back,
And our check was never cashed.

There is nothing in the pipeline.
The doorbell doesn’t seem to work.
The screen door has a hole in it,
Patched with pages
Ripped from next week’s calendar,
And the phone declines to ring.

Everything is over now,
The happy times
Are past and gone.
All that’s left to us is weeping
And the Kleenex box is empty,
So the tears make puddles on the floor.

All we see through tear filled eyes:
Another day in paradise.
            ljm

You only see it now in photographs
and hear it on old phonographs,
how things were,

I was there in how things were
and they weren't like that at all,

they're making halcyon out of silicon
trying to sell you images that never
existed,
and they call them salad days,
they were only salad days because
nobody could afford meat.

you'll only be fooled if you want to be
because like me
you saw
how things were
first hand.

You hear this all the time now, this Bucket List business
People in my own country suddenly have a Bucket List
Something you never heard tell of before
They talk about it like it was something that was always there
Even the feckin' cat's probably got a Bucket List,
Think it all started with that movie (of the same name) a few years ago
It was the first time I ever heard the expression.

I was thinkin'
The only bucket I ever knew was probably like the old song
It had a Big Hole in it
Life seemed to me to be a big rip off a lot of the time
Wasn't much beauty that I could see
Cold mornings, and even colder faces looking back at you
A bucket might have come in handy though... to get sick in
Or to *** in when you'd be drunk which was a lot of the time
Sometimes you'd get so drunk, I probably would have trod in my bucket and then gone clanking around
Heh! they'd probably yell, What's all that noise down there, we're trying to get some sleep up here
Don't worry I'd shout back, it's just me! Just Me and my ******' bucket
Some of the things I did and the places I ended up in
It'd be so embarrassing, you'd feel like maybe putting your bucket over your head.

No! There weren't too many bottles of champagne ever in my bucket
Only a few that I alone knew about, private little victories... private little parties I had
That I'd keep quiet, only between... just me... just me and myself.

And getting older then, the whole thing was... the whole thing was just trying to stay alive, trying to survive
Yea! Trying not to kick the ******' bucket altogether... to hang on in there somehow.

Bucket List indeed...
The only bucket I ever knew.

At a funeral recently, a cremation along with my young niece
Whose a Vegan and very environmentally conscious
I was telling her "I wouldn't like to be cremated, it's too much like 'going to hell' to me"
Then she says she'd like to be cremated herself, that it'd be her preferred choice, that it'd be the most environmentally friendly way to go
I said to her "Would you not like to be buried in one of those nice wicker basket type coffins that the environmental people like
I thought that's the kind of thing you'd be into"
She said No! I wouldn't like them, the thought of worms and other creepy crawlies crawling in on top of me, all over me Ugh! I couldn't bear that.

Oh I said, No! just give me a nice quiet church graveyard, lovely and peaceful
With the yew trees nice and shady and the birds singing softly, somewhere lovely and quiet way out in the country
It'd be so relaxing
"Well", she said,"you won't know, sure you'll be dead".
"My soul it'll be reposing", I corrected her cheerily.

Then I said "Y'know I think I saw this TV programme  once where you could have music playing in your coffin
Something over in America, could only be in America LoL
I went on dreamily, "Y'know I think I'm getting younger as I grow older
I've put away all my old Black Sabbath records
Now I've started listening to Taylor Swift instead, she has some great songs that girl, great videos too
I think I'll have Taylor Swift singing to me in my coffin
I'll go boppin' into the next world, the next life with Taylor, hand in hand
I could even put some posters of her up on the inside of my coffin.

Look! I said to my niece pointing to a few hairs on the front of my head
I think my quiff it's starting to grow back again. Elvis here I come!!!

not what they used to be
my eyes see what they want to see
and I suppose that is just me
blocking things out,

and I've seen enough of the stuff that they stuff your head full of.

Years ago, many of them, at about this time in the morning I was down by the river watching polecats running wild and the noise that the bats made scratched on my eardrums,
random eh?
but it's Thursday and I can be.

I need another livener, a wakener, I'm taking a
break, taking five and I'm thinking of poets who
are lost to the eye who now write their poetry,
on clouds in the sky,
don't know why
random eh?
but it's Thursday and I can be.

Sometimes
if I listen really hard
I can hear the words
arguing in my pen,

he's writing ****** poetry again,
no, he's not.

I like the no, he's not a lot
but
he's writing ****** poetry again
is what comes out of the pen.