Take a ride to visit a bunch of old bones
on board the old ghost train.
hear the squeals, the moans and the groans
all of which give you plenty to complain.
Sitting hugging your friend for grim death
on the scariest ride at the fair
you feel a cold frosty breath
from the left hand side of the chair
Something is dangling in your face
and it is crawling and now creeping
what possessed you to go in this creepy place
and there seems to be a hand sweeping.
Whatever it is it has left its mark
and you now are ready to squeal
wishing you could see in the total dark
and notice that this is making you feel
            s c a r e d

Out of the blue
he grabbed me
sent me from pillar to post
there was little to oversee
but I saw my ghost
it was the shadow of me
a year in which to come
there was little to oversee
just that I saw what I'd become.
I did not care for the vision
it scared me beyond my dreams
there was little to oversee
or so it seems.
Cant alter my past but
I can make a change to the present
could do nothing more than I did
and believe me it was not pleasant.
I grabbed my shadow and bent the rules
I surrounded it with a home truth
I told it I am not what I used to be
I had in fact altered my youth.
The shadow disappeared
out of the blue
and then it reappeared
it had made me brand new.
So my life has changed
just as if it was on cue
all of this happened
it was if it was out of the blue.

There are secrets in the woods
there are whispers in the breeze
The gathering has an opinion
and that is the whispers aren't Chinese.
They have all had their say
It is the talk among the trees
If they are not careful
this talk will bring them to their knees.
It is like they are playing a game
and it has been deemed checkmate
the talk is in the thick of the wood
an it told it to them straight.
From twig to branch
from each and every little leaf
the talk is just a whisper
and that is the belief.

It was decided they would both go for a drive
To the local farm to visit the beehive.
She was frustrated
The bees were agitated
So they returned at exactly half past

She suddenly let out an awful squeal
He was fed up with the whole ordeal
The bees were behind
Just a touch unkind
And had now surrounded their automobile.

First Aid was what they were needing
As his feet were badly bleeding.
She had lost her squeak
Because they’d stung
As the pig shot off home speeding.

The car had suddenly come to a halt
And they both suffered a sharp jolt
For in the middle of the road
Was a large truck load
Of gleaming white table salt.

The Pig began to lick his lips announcing “my word”
I think that now I’m rather cured!
The Duck found some money
To pay for all the honey
This is all that he could afford.

There is an owl on the gate and he is singing “tu whit tu whoo”
He is not sure whether he is at Chelsea or indeed at Kew.
The Pig knew here there were well to do types
He also knew that bamboo was green and had stripes.
There were ladies dressed in white Broderie Anglais
The Pig was vile covered in Italian Spaghetti Bolognese.
The Pig said “Oh I do really beg your pardon
I do like a good nosh up in your garden”.
The Duck preferred a patch with movement and flow
The Pig on the other hand stuff hadn’t chance to grow.
The Duck needed style, imagination and some shape
And all that the Pig required was a simple landscape.
The Pig needed mud and a garden full of sweet roses
Rather a contrast but his stuff just decomposes.
Both were impressed with the Chelsea Flower Show
And shot off to see what they could plant and grow.

This little man
Will do all he can
To eat all his beans
And avoid his greens.
For him it is considered beneath
To keep clean his teeth.
There is little hope
Of owning a bar of soap.
To let an evening pass
He would roll in wet grass.
Then to get himself in gear
Knock back four pints of beer.
He has been told “elf”
Take a look at yourself
You have got yourself to blame
You have brought much shame.
You must go through a door
And find it in yourself to explore.
So it was that he became irritable
With the thought of eating a vegetable
He knew he was quite snappy
But what would make him happy?
Slow breathing in and out
Just made him want to shout
Who would want to embrace?
His ugly little face?
So he had a choice
Led by a comforting voice
Choose which door
He needs to explore.
Go through the door of red
Where one stayed in bed and just ate bread
Or the door painted green
He would get himself clean
Or go through the door marked blue
Find out what he is addicted to.
That thought was just plain crazy
He knew he was lazy.
He was the little man with a very short shelf
Plonked on a label branded a very lazy elf.

Rock pools scattered with salty froth
drain quickly to reveal life
Little shrimps cling to samphire
The rushing white wave
beats to the shore
creeping gingerly to the rock cave
as if it has been there before.
The midday sun
settles for the afternoon
the sunbathers just begun
their timed basking on the dune.
A weathered dry oar
lies abandoned on the sand from an old boat
together with bits of ******* washed to the shore
just lying there, anything that would float.
Cracked shells, washed pebbles, and bits of flint
in blues, greys, creams and coral coloured stone
lie draped around the edge of the beach
with seaholly, blue grass and bits of fish bone.
The smell of the sea washes against your breath
you feel alive, but your skin feels dry lie salt
the breath taking views make you good to be there
It is just nice to hear the wind, the sea, the gulls
the call of the dolphin , it is just nice to be alive.