Today I shall be looking at the pages of my life
My memories in my mind are always there
Just close my eyes and I can search all I want
Find the right page and I can go anywhere.
To my childhood to where happiness lies,
To my marriage, my very best day
But I cannot go forward in time, not allowed
Flipping forward is for when I reach that certain day.
Tomorrow is my birthday, another year on my chart
Another number that I have to live by
This time I cannot go back but go forward
and this time it will be happiness not a sigh.
Sometimes I wish I had a time machine
Twiddle the dial and off I shoot to that year
whether it be backwards or forwards
I could visit the time in my life I hold so dear.
But today I fish out yet another candle for the cake
Another new number is perched on my head
I am happy, I am going to be extra happy from now on
Because that is what life is for, to be happy, it is said.

Drape a bed of rose petals at her feet
For the fragrance of the petal is divine
The perfume of the rose fills the air
and you can say "she's mine, all mine."

Trace the outline of her name on her back
sending shivers down her spine
Whisper sweet nothings in her ear
and you can say "she's mine, all mine."

Sing a ballad of romantic nonsense to her
Give it all that you have got for most of the time.
Flake out on the sofa and she'll come running
and you can say "she's mine, all mine.

Splash the prussian blue through clear H2O
A tiny touch of fresh lemon and wait for it to go
absolutely spectacular, mad as a hatter, wow.
The pigment disperses for all it is worth
The results are amazing like nothing on earth.
On a wet piece of watercolour paper taped down
drop from a wet paintbrush a touch of deep brown
Then add a nice bright shade of transparent ink
Anything from a scarlet to a permanent pink.
The scattering of colour is an explosion of rainbows
Browns, ochres and rouge combine into **** glows.
Drop any shade onto damp paper and another
and you will hav your mind blown away to some other
colour dimension.  It is addictive, best you have seen
Complimentary colours like the red and the green.
Try it and you will say wow.

In the field of white
Everything is coated from head to toe
In a icy blanket
Of crisp sparkling snow.
The path that often takes
Us past the little duck pond
Crunches beneath our feet
White with snow and far beyond.
We can see the ice
With frozen ducks and drakes
Huddled from the cold wind
And the falling snowflakes.
The force of the snow
Has detached and thrown
Down to the base of the tree
The pretty fragrant fir cone.
It is placed in the basket
Covered in melting ice
It will decorate the fireplace
With berries and cinnamon spice.
There is a sense of magic everywhere
On each and every stone and rock
Twinkling diamonds reflected by the sun
Wet underfoot seeping in my shoe and sock.
Toes feel like little blocks of pure ice
Must make the way back to the roaring fire
Hot chocolate and toast sounding nice
Take off my icy clothes and into something drier.
The snow from my window looks inviting
The red of the berry against the blue of the snow.
The smile on my face tells the story
Nice and warm where the wind cannot blow.

The day you placed
Upon my finger, a ring
I realised then and I know now
Love is a beautiful thing.
You said I am pretty
Like a butterfly’s wing
My world is colourful because
Love is a beautiful thing.
You make my world rock
You make my heart sing
You are amazing in every way
And love is a beautiful thing.
You are my soul mate and
You to me are my everything.
I can’t live without you
Love is a beautiful thing.
My things are precious
My love is for you is real
These things I have said are beautiful
And this is exactly how I feel.

Inside a damp turnip or pumpkin
carved with a smile on its face.
To scare the living daylights
and vanish without trace.
Glowing embers sparking madness
Toss a coin in its place.
Jack of the lantern to keep spirits away
carved with a smile on its face.
Happy Halloween to you all.

Secret passages
Hidden stairs
Traps for fools
or anyone that cares.
Doorways that squeak
In the middle of the night
Met a pale white thing
Didn't half give me a fright.
With cobwebs in its hair
and sockets without eyes
For best scared person this year
well that's my prize.
Secrets whistling
along corridors unused.
Lights switching on and off
whether or not they're fused.
Howling, screaming
and plenty of groaning
Tears and perspiration
and enough of my moaning.
It is that day tomorrow again
when broomsticks fly like magic.
Pumpkins, Jack O' Lantern
and anything else tragic.
Ghosts, spirits, sheets with holes in
Witches banging on the front door.
Little children dressed like princesses
flour and eggs all over the floor.
I love it.

Oh what it would be to close my eyes
and just go to a silent sleep.
But all I seem to achieve is staring into space
frustration takes over and I just weep.

Uncomfortable
That is how I felt
All of my day
When is it going to melt?
When is it going to go away?
Sadness
Came over me
Tears rolled down my face
All of my day
Got to get out of this place.
Show me the way.
Anxiety
Waiting, waiting forever
With snow in my shoe.
All of my day.
What am I going to do?
Dont have to stay.
Peace
Toes warming in front of a fire
My feet are glowing a nice red
I am pleased to say.
Point me in the direction of my bed
It is the end of my day.

Hang on a minute wont it be lonely at Christmas all on my own
Just me, a silly turkey, one *******, one sad little mince pie.
Bet your life it wont, my seeds of my life have already been sown
I have got plans, my life is mapped out nicely till the day I die.

You could swing anything you liked around my space
I'm free to fly like a soaring, free as you like bird.
Oh I have the biggest smile on my pretty little face
This is my life, my space, my time in my own little world.

Thank goodness he has gone out of my life, through the door
He just about managed to squeeze his head through the gap.
He thought himself above his station, what a nightmare, a bore
I told him he needs to rinse out his words under a running tap.

Will he listen though, I hope he does, it is up to him, I don't care
Too many years I have suffered heard it all so many times before.
But I know what he'll do, bury his head, I like to think where
He is rotten in his bones, in his head through to his very core.

Perfection,
What is that?
If I had to describe a nice
day I could do that.
But perfection.
I will have a try.
My perfect day...........let me see.
Sitting at a table
with little china cups
decorated in blue.
With white saucers with a fluted edge.
Opposite me is my perfect guest
Sally A Bayan.
We would talk till the cows came home.
Till the stars dropped out of the sky.
Till the grass grew and covered the daisies.
The days and nights would drift by
and yet we would still be chatting.
This and that
My idea of perfection.

She would stand for no nonsense
Always at the bar dead on eight.
Had a pint of stout with an inch of froth
She wont be happy if her drink's late.

Down it in one she would, froth an'all
Down the hatch it slipped down in one
The bar man always watched with eager eyes
as the pulling of the next stout had begun.

She wiped her lips with the sleeve of her coat
She had no manners did our sweet lil
She would let out the biggest burp in the world
The bar shook then it would become still.

She looked around at fear ridden faces
She just smiled and they dare to smile back
She strolled back up the valley at around nine
and at ten she always hit the sack.

Curlers in , mud pack on and in she'd pop
Under clean sheets lying on her side.
A belly full of Irish stout .
Dream or nightmare - she could not decide.

She'd get up at six on the dot
and cook herself bacon and hot toast
she'd slurp her tea from off the saucer
and waited for the morning post.

Then it was back to bed until midday
and the usual same old boring thing.
Our sweet lily of the valley
Had given up wishing.

All she wanted in life was love
Just someone to share her life with
She thought she was attractive enough
and she knew she had so much to give.

To be continued..............

I thought I was in Heaven
When I was just seven.
It was never too late
to stand behind the gate and wait
To gather blackberries.

So I was in desperate pursuit
of the hidden fruit
Lovely, sweet and ripe
no need to wash or wipe
Gathering blackberries.

Now it was always said
"Why are your books red"
I thought she meant read.
It was the juice
A true excuse
Oh to gather blackberries.

It was back in his hey day
when elves used to be nimble
Sitting all day listening to stuff
Sat on a shiny silver thimble.

They were their bar stools at the bar
drinking dandelion beer till drunk
It was a powerful brew that blew their socks off
Revealing their toes that really stunk.

Feet washing was not their thing
Dandelion beer was more their cup of tea
They had to wait till the peas dropped
to have a nice bath in the pod of the pea.

You can imagine elves in a line at the bar
All taking their first swig of the beer
They pow, their socks would all shoot off
a picture that to you and me is most queer.

Then the stench of smelly, ***** feet
Giggling was the order then of the day.
They would see who had the smelliest toes
Sniffing and giggling along the way.

The one that won had to down a jug
of the powerful dandelion beer with froth
Then roll the victor under the table to sleep
and cover him up with the tablecloth.

The little winner with stinky feet
snoring while the others giggled.
Then with daisies stuck to the side of his face
The drunken victor wriggled.

"Roll me home, will you, my chaps, roll me home"
They did as they were told and parked him by a tree
to steady himself when asleep they thought.
On returning ten hours later, he had rolled free.

He was slumped under a mushroom, upside down
He had obviously been singing his heart out.
On went his socks up he stood sort of upright
Tottered off to see what the fuss was about.

He did not get very far, he tripped over a leaf
His eyes closed shut and off he slept till sober
Which was a day or three, this drunken elf
certainly had a day definitely to remember.

He stands on a tiny stool
To reach toys off the shelf
He is only three inches tall
This cute little busy elf.

He is here, there and everywhere
fetching and carrying all of his day
With a smile, and then a whistle
and all this for one penny per day.

But he buys buttercup tea and a mint leaf
knocks it back in one big swoop
Chews the mint leaf to flavour his breath
Doesn't want his reputation to droop.

Got to attract the fairies, make them admire
This perfect little elf that he has become
He is a gentleman through and through
Rich in buttercups and very handsome.

With his curly red hair framing his green hat
His violet eyes, plus a little twinkle
His peachy cheeks and rich rosy lips
and not one sign of old age or wrinkle.

For one hundred and three, this elf is knocking on
The little fairies all have a soft spot for this elf
But most of all the elf has enormous standing
and for that he is most proud of himself.

For years, when I was small
I was bullied day in day out.
My so called friend used to wait
throw stones at me and shout.
He used to pinch me till I bled
Call me names which hurt
Belittle me always, I felt small
Push me and rip my skirt.
If I saw him now I would smile
Because I know deep down I won
I now stand strong and victorious
How small he is now his work is done.
I now know he used to be beaten at home
His father ruled him like a rod of iron
It could not have been easy for him
But that is no excuse for the way he behaved.
He took his pain out on me, he could never reveal
Not took me aside and told me of his pain
I would have listened, understood
but he had nothing to give and I nothing to gain.
Bullying is not fair, so talk about it, open up
Stand your ground and tell someone today.
Do not keep this secret locked in, tell someone
Anyone, shout it out, make your pain go away.

Never again will I say what I think
It is as bad as being condemned.
In future my thoughts will be in my head
And silence will be my best friend.

Sometimes we all want peace and quiet
Sometimes we all wish to shout
Sometimes we all need someone
Sometimes that offer is in doubt.
Doubt is such an ugly word
A word where there is no trust
To have that trust in someone
Is as absolute must.
But maybe sometimes that someone
Does not wish to be about
Maybe that someone sometimes is in doubt
Putting that word to one side
Maybe he or she wants to confide
Because maybe someone shouts sometimes
And sometimes that someone is deep inside.

I have got a large orange pumpkin
sitting waiting for Halloween.
I just need to carve its tough outer skin
and place a candle inside when it's clean.

I'm planning to carve a scary face
to keep all the evil spirits away
Never met a witch around this place
but tomorrow could be another day.

Going to get some special things
for when the children play trick or treat
I love the mystery this day brings
and all the special foods to eat.

Apples covered in toffee, sausages in sauce
fluffy white potatoes crumbled with cheese
I show absolutely no remorse
For meat ***** with mushy minty peas.

Halloween the very name sends shivers
down the length of my spine
My legs are shaking and head quivers
but do not worry I will be fine.

It starts to rain
Like the fizz has been removed
from my champagne.
A peach drips
from the tree.
Sticky sips
all over me.
But why does
a peach have fuzz?
Just an excuse
to explode its juice.
Its yellow flesh
At its peak fresh
Does the tree
whole heartedly agree
without the need to preach
when to evict the peach.
Time to say goodbye
when the twig is dry.
The hard backbone
its strange lined stone.
Nothing more to bring
as each amber flesh cling
drops to the ground.
A peach perfectly round.

Silently without thought
He slides his arm around her waist.
Brushing her face with his finger
Her soul feels embraced.
Nothing needs to be said
It is written across his face
The love they feel for each other
Could never be replaced.
But there is something
Buried deep inside his head
Something to which she cannot access
Something which she will always dread.
There is a frown that passes his brow
Each time he looks lovingly at her
It rings alarm bells in her mind
An emotion she would transfer.
Does he love her? I am sure that he does
He stays with her so that is clear
A shiver runs down her spine
And now she have everything to fear.
The grip tightens
She looks at him as if she’s under review.
His icy blue eyes smile and he whispers to her
“My darling, you are my life, I do love you."
But would that be enough
She looks worried and begins to shake
Nerves get the better of her
She thought about give and take.
That is part of it but it has all gone wrong
He is taking and she is giving.
He has started to sing another song
Could she be forgiving?
Is this the same man?
Where had hers gone?
She has seen another side
Now she wants to run.
But she remembers
to have His faith above
And she finds hope and feels
his desperate touch of love.

There was once a fairy who lost her wings
In fact she was always losing her things.
She tried hard from January to December
But she found it hard to exactly remember
And the complications and confusion it brings.

There was once a man who had a blue beard
Which to you and me is very weird
In the growth he kept his keys
Which shot out when he did a sneeze
Being locked out of his house was what he feared

There was once a man from York
Who had a craving for salty pork
But what was worst
He had the most terrible thirst
Drank the wine but swallowed the cork

There is a fairy
that is so very brave.
She dresses in blue
and her name is Dave.
That is a man's name
I hear her cry.
The chief fairy named her
that is the reason why.
She arrived under a mushroom
all those years ago.
Wrapped in a blue spider's web
with a silken silver glow.
She had deep blue eyes
that others would so crave.
That is why she got her name
The brave fairy Dave.
So all her little years
hanging around looking nice
Until she spoke of her name
The others looked twice.
They all had the same opinion
Hats off to her they all thought
With a collection done all year
for her they all had bought
a new name - The Blue Fairy.
Now she was in her element
blue eyes to match her new name
somehow, she now knows things
will never quite be the same.


e

The trees in the winter months
Branches laden with sparkling snow
Like little diamonds reflecting in the sun
Dressed but nowhere to go.

Berries dappled on bushes on hedgerows
Tucked safely where the wind doesn’t blow
Like rubies and garnets on the bushes fingers
Dressed but nowhere to go.

Fairies dancing in the midnight moonlight
Providing a spectacular floor show.
Lacy cobwebs for table cloths and spun specially
Dressed but nowhere to go.

The winter is almost upon us
Spices enrich Christmas bread dough
Icing drips neatly onto the floor in puddles
It is dressed but nowhere to go.

I however have my glad rags on,
My painted face, rich ruby lips and so
With my sequins, high heeled shoes
I am painting the town red and raring to go.

Kicking the rusty leaves
crumpled by the tree
seeds and twigs broken off
golden and free.
Polished conkers rest
waiting to be smashed
strung up with string
bruised, soaked and bashed.
Russet apples wither in the sun
pecked at by robins and wrens.
Purple clover gather in the distance
on the hills and glens.
Pears drip from branches
like water from a wooden tap.
Twigs point like a human finger
showing the way to follow a map.
Through the ochre wood and
across the sienna fields.
The gathered sticky corn
piled high that the farmer yields
The Autumn season is pure gold
Raspberry sunset and peach skies.
A woodpecker perches, waits awhile
In the Autumn air then off he flies.

Why worry - put your worries off till the next day.

Woken
With a smash
Broken
From a clean wash
Folding out creases
That bother
Picking up the pieces
From a father
Left long ago
Sad times then
Although
It wont happen again.
Broken
Silent
But outspoken
Violent
Never
But broken.