Lord what is happening
People are fighting
Children are frightened.
Mountains are creaking
Enemies are not speaking.
The seas are fed up
ebbing flowing and smashing
Coffees have overfilled cups
and computers are crashing.
The wind has stopped blowing
forever and a single day.
Lawns need forever mowing
and the gardens will pay.
Cities are crammed
Towns are tired.
Motorways are jammed
taxi cabs are hired.
Smiles have been wiped from faces
in the heat of the day.
Expensive advertisements in places
expecting the public to pay.
Bring back the laughter, hope and reason
Bring back the smile, let children play
Let freedom ring true where there is danger
Let the world hold hands once again, let us pray.
Bring back peace bring back hope, please
To every rock mountain and seas.
Let every grain of sand warm up and sparkle again
For what it is worth
This is a prayer for this Earth.

I thought I would post this again - it is a particular favourite of mine - it makes me smile.
Maybe when I am old
I will be miserable and grey
My skin will want ironing
And I will wet myself all day.
Maybe there will be peace
And harmony amongst men
Maybe there will be no more worries
Maybe the world will be better by then.
So there wont be lines on my face
And I will be wearing a smile
I’ll be running around like a teenager
And I’ll be leaving my clothes in a pile.
Maybe.

Six carrier bags, handbag and an umbrella as well
My pockets are full of receipts, it is like a living hell.
Tempers are boiling, my blood pressure’s sky high
Feet are throbbing and I am ready to cry,
My mind had gone blank and my clothes are a mess
What I look like is anyone’s guess.
My face is without make up and my hair need a comb
What I would really like to do is to go on home.
But I have to keep going, I have to shop
If I stand in one more queue I will drip.
My feet are now yelling that they hate me
And all that I need now is a good cup of tea.
My time is spent in the endless queue
And I am desperately searching for a gap to squeeze through.
I am talking to strangers with a diplomatic smile
All stood like robots in a single file.
Next year, I think I will save my precious time that I get
And do all my shopping on the world wide web,  the internet.

They both stood admiring the Christmas lights
Staring lovingly into the evening sky.
He was wearing rather fetching woollen tights
And she was beginning to wonder the reason why.

He put on his false white beard
And tried to slip on some massive black boots.
She has guessed and it was what she had feared
He did have some strange whacky persuits.

Meanwhile she had slipped into a little costume
She had decided to dress like her friend Frilly Mary
She had found a feather boa in her bedroom
And she fancied herself as a Fairy.

“Good grief, look at her, she has a wand”
He had become quite hot.
He dipped his foot in the pond
And considered his position and what he’d got

“Now why would she want to be dressed like that”
She has more lights on her wings than the tree.
He knew he could definitely smell a rat
“And I can sniff, oh yes, that is me.”

She tiptoed over and guessed straight away
“You are Santa Claus are you not”
“Come on, where have you parked the sleigh”
Now he had gone a funny shade of hot.

“I could easily ask you about your attire”
He mounted his high horse.
It was like adding oil to a fire
And let nature run it’s course.

They had a bit of a set to
And they both thought they could hear ringing.
They were bells and quite a few
And they could hear children singing.

They both realised the magic day had come
Christmas carols and everywhere was lit up.
“care to join me in the fun”
She did and to that he raised his sherry cup.

Tired and exhausted on Christmas Day
Santa thought he’d repair his damaged sleigh.
The snow was thick and falling
The reindeer understood he was calling
At top speed he shot off into the sky and away.

He pleaded to stop until he was blue in the face
Because the reindeer were in a competitive race
Santa repeatedly hit the deck
Now he’s a minute speck
As he has shot off to outer space.

Explore nature:
Clouds just hanging around
Like dabs of candy floss.
Reflecting in the puddles of rain
Gathering rich green moss.
Rocks with a history to be proud
Could well tell a tale or two
Trees with circles of life
Each with their individual tattoo.
Nature, we take it for granted
Always there,  its beauty beyond belief
From lakes to mountains, hills and vales
To trees, their bark, the tiny leaf.
It is all beautiful, individual, sparkling
Bring an effervescence to its core.
Just walk in the park and you will notice
Something you have not seen before.
Mother Nature, at her best, for all to see
It is free, no need to pay, a free ride.
The ocean, the rivers, the tiny rambling streams
Rock pools jam packed with ***** inside.
There is a wonder just go and find it
A simple nature walk on a warm afternoon
Explore, crack open the falling seed
Trust me, you will return to do it again soon.

There was once a dog who was dyed blue
H never knew quite what to do.
He thought since I'm called Elvis
I will shake my bony pelvis
and try to howl out his songs too.

There was once a woman that ate cheese
She thought it kept away disease.
But apart from being old
It was very icy cold
because she kept it in the deep freeze.

If you believe you can
then you are halfway there.

Like a glass of cloudy beer
It will soon become crystal clear
Unless they have made a mistake
And the situation remains opaque.
But things will become apparent
Plans remain transparent.
But then life is as mad as a box of frogs
When it is raining cats and dogs.

Around the clock
Measured time reflects
Colour and distorts into a stream.
A refracted light beam
A watercolour dream.
A downstream bush
Carries a dappled thrush
Guarded by a deep brown bullrush.
A velvet sword, a companion smiling
The water swirling and sparkling
Dripping cascading and firing
Droplets of light onto the green.

The peel is steeped
in rich amber breath
coloured by nature
stolen at birth
Bitter sweet friend
the lemon, the rind
nothing to the end
nothing left behind.
But the orange,
the orange has tips
it has life it has history
it has the blessed pips.
Bitter sweet good health
leave nothing to chance
leave not on the shelf.

“Do not grab me”
“She has done it again,
You have got to agree
She is a pain.”
The little pink toothbrush
Moaning about the way it’s treated
In the mad morning rush
Till the cleaning session’s completed.
“Pick me up gently, that is it
Now squeeze the paste”
“Too much, too much, just a bit
Oh my life, what a waste.”
The little pink toothbrush is a fed up
He wants to be looked after lovingly
From when he comes out of his cup
Which is fair comment to some degree.
“In the mouth we go,
Always the same molar
Now woman brush to and fro
No, no, wrong, I’m trying to control you.
“Up and down, not like a yard brush
Gently, we have to do it gently
It is not some major rush
Do it differently.
Do human beings know?
Do they actually care?
Is their brain like pastry dough?
Is it even there?
If I have thought it once,
I’ve thought it a million times a day
She must be a dunce
And that is all I can say.
Rinse woman , rinse me
Under the sparkling spray
Oh no don’t dip me in your cup of tea
I’ll be yellow and smelly all day.”
Does she not know I have needs
Not know how to treat me nice
It is like she succeeds
I have to think everything twice.
“And don’t throw me
Put me gently back in my place
And I’m covered in tea
Pity it’s not on your face.”
Look soap, look everyone what she does
Treats me like a scrubbing brush
And she does it because
She is always in a rush!”

Lace and old scraps of paper
buried deep in my heart
Lined my pockets once I see
but they tore apart.
They dwell on my mind
wafting through my being
Distorting images, blanking out
from what I ought to be seeing.

I am in my beach house by the sea
Sat in the chair with a cup of weak tea.
The cup was cracked some years ago
Maybe I should replace it, I don’t know.
I might give the place a lick of paint I think
Perhaps a nice bright blue or shocking pink.
Oh, and I have to make a trip into the town
The dinghy needs looking at, I will get it down
The place smells fusty when I open up at start of year
And I expect everywhere to be slightly damp when I get here!
To be economical I save my old tea bags for next time
I have a cup of tea, look at that washing line.
The knife is a bit rusty and the milk tends to turn
Toaster’s a bit rusty and the bread’ll burn.
The other day a kid stood outside making fun with his mates
Pointing at me, laughing and swinging on my gates.
But I smiled because I’m proud of what I’ve got set up for me
This is all mine, my beach house by the sea.
I make sandwiches, cheese and pickle on white
Wrapped in newspaper, made previous night.
That’ll do me till it is time for my tea
Which I will enjoy in the beach house by the sea.

This fairy most definitely I’d call an imp
She’s out for anything to beg, steal or borrow.
She’d think nothing of actually buying stuff
Because she is the Fairy of Tomorrow.

Also known as the fairy of second hand rose
Nothing is her own, and never will be
If she can borrow it she will and sort of keep it
Notwithstanding it has no guarantee.

Second hand rose, but then again she is smart
Best fairy shoes and decent frilly lacy dress
She doesn’t have a friend so that is okay
Meaning she has no one to impress.

Which is quite sad in a way, everyone has friends
But not her she has never had one, that’s true
An assessment of her social circle, one could say
Is under scrutiny and is long overdue.

She’s not bothered, she gets by
She is happy enough and whistles all of the day
She has plenty of shiny coins in her drawer
And has plenty of treasure stashed away.

She is no fool, this Fairy of Tomorrow
Nothing wrong with being a second hand rose
She is in fact quite wealthy; the others are unaware
Even though she wears other fairies clothes

Ticking the days off was exciting
Yet became a living nightmare
She’d had an invitation to the ball
She now worried how to get there.

It was the End of Year Fairies Ball
Where the best of the fairies went.
She’d got her gown, her fairy shoes
And had made her rose petal scent.

She had chosen pale green for her dress
And had sewn buttercups to the hem.
Little golden flowers cascaded down her
With tiny leaves still attached to the stem.

She had a buttercup upside down on her head
With golden thread under her chin
Daisies draped from her arms held tight
By a tiny golden wrist pin.

She looked adorable but so did the others
They all looked like a story from a fairytale
Nerves sometimes got the better of her
So the breathing slowed down, a slow exhale.

The buttercup fairy looked divine as she did
Always and mingled, taking her time
She ate raspberry pips and  drank blossom juice
And had her first sample of apple wine.

She sat under an acorn and arranged her wings
A robin provided a pillow for her which was nice
Before he knew it she had fallen to sleep
But was she about to pay the upmost price.

She had missed the best dressed fairy time
When all fairies were judged by the chief elf
Instead this tipsy little fairy fast asleep
And was sitting on a very expensive shelf.

She awoke with the sound of little bells
Announcing the winner of the best dress
She tutted at the robin for not waking her
She as angry because now she was in a mess.

She now wore a face as long as a fiddle
And did not care about anyone or thing
She had prepared for this day since the
Beginning of this year’s spring.

The moral of her story don’t nestle
Next to a naughty little robin with fluffed chest
Otherwise you fall to sleep all afternoon
And then end up seriously depressed.

The buttercup fairy found some comfort
In a super little bar under a mushroom
And smashed her way through too much wine
Which for now ended her doom and gloom.

Staggering her way home in the early hours
Singing over the blackbird’s morning tune
She perched herself under an oak leaf
And slept until the new light of the moon

A  Smile Shines

A smile shines upon a face
Cracked and parched by the sun
Blistered feet trek in the heat
Carrying water for everyone.
Three hours daily they walk
To a watering hole ***** and crude
Yet still he smiles having no choice
But to bring water to cook food.
Foreigners arrive to lay new pipes
Hope lies now on a wrinkled face
Water gushes from a shiny tap
Drenching life into a dismal place.
Children scream with delight and joy
Sadly they have never splashed before
Tears well in the foreigner’s eye
A shiny tap now means so much more.
A new smile shines upon a face
Pleased that the work has been done
Blistered hands applaud in the heat
At long last the children can have fun.

Of all the fairy poems I have written, this has to be my favourite and I am dedicating it to Marian.  This is just for you Marian.  I hope you enjoy it.
The Fairy of the Sloe
In its velvet skin
Hidden below
Sits the Fairy
Of the sloe.
A sprinkling of dust
Surrounds a bitter taste
The blackthorn, as it’s known
The fairies make haste
The rush of the traffic
In the Autumn haze
A steady sour drip
On sunny cool days.
As the sugar sweetens
The dark romantic skin
To enrich the tables at Christmas
With rich sloe gin.

Just thought I would share this with you again that I wrote for the talking newspapers for the blind. It was published in 2003.

Picture this: salmon coloured coral with tangerine
Bordering an atoll, and fencing it in.
Emerald clear waters blotched with aquamarine
Crystal clear like porcelain.
Fish as red as berries stewed with damson
Or as yellow as a canary made from brass
Some resemble amber blushed with crimson
And roses with sap spilt on the grass.
Picture a kingfisher as blue as the sea
Brick red wings as sharp as blades
He perches on an old olive tree
With bark as black as the ace of spades.
Picture a raspberry ripple sky
Peaches and lemons draped in-between
Fields as gold as a baked cherry pie
And a rainbow settling on the green.

A friend is someone who you can trust
From rough to smooth, thick and thin
Someone who you can share secrets with
but to know they're kept to oneself within.

Loyalty and just being there for one another
when times hit an all time low.
A hand to hold outstretched on a screen
showing me the right path to go.

Above all our friendship is forever
forever and a golden day.
But you know this, my dear Sally Bayan
and now I can almost hear what you're about to say!

As the name implies
It would look quite sweet
Red wings, red lips and
red felty things on her feet.
A red dress with sash of course
done up in a big red bow.
Red curls flowing from a crown
No hang on, no she's not in panto.
She is not the wicked witch of the west
or some heavily done up dame.
No, she just looks after things of red
Everyone gets confused over her name.
No she cares for the rose and stuff like that
She flies around early morning blossom
No dont mis-judge this little red fairy
Like Mrs Bradshaw is for the scarlet geum.
The Red Fairy is the fairy of the poppy
To her the nicest red thing in the place.
She'll get her golden ticket for this of course
when she meets her maker face to face.

This little fairy always thought that she was important
In a way that it would not to me or even you.
She thought "I bet they thought I had a respsonsible face"
as I stood in the "Name the Fairy Day Today" queue.

That day she waited all day, (she was last out of bed)
She had arrived late (of course) and was last in line.
The others had been named, (they were all proud)
and this last name they had. well it was absolutely fine.

The others giggled behind her back (she didn't know that)
and was ridiculed whereever they went that very day.
The Fairy of the Rose and Forget-Me-Not were supportive
and not spiteful like the rest in a caring sort of way.

These fairies knew the real reason for her name but kept quiet
They did not want to shatter this little fairy's dream
Besides which when it was time to meet their maker
These two fairies had the best golden tickets to redeem.

That is what you get if you are a good and kind little fairy
is a golden ticket to extra love and devotion and stuff
The last thing a fairy wants is a damp grey cloud to sit on
which has run out of nice things,  fluffy things and puff.

It is not hard to be nice they thought, takes no extra effort
So they were that to this hopeless little fairy that's always late.
The fairy of everything sharp and dangerous a name in itself.
But then to her it came with instant love from a nice playmate.

A playmate or two in fact which was more than most got.
So in her head she thought that she was well liked and respected.
In truth I suspect the rest were jealous and envied her status
But this little fairy (despite her name) always felt protected.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Funny sitting on my perch
next to someone like you.

It is funny also
I see your beak move up and down
But you are speechless
and I wear a frown.

This shiny thing is in the way
move closer to me.
The funny little bird confused
and what he can see.

Dont understand this he thought
Strange powers at work here.
Perhaps if I kiss this little bird
it will all become very clear.

Oh she is hard like glass
My beak is now crinkled and sore
I gave her a big kiss on her beak
and I wont be going back for more.

I haven't seen clover draped on those hills
for such a long time.
September, a romantic, beautiful month.
Pink hills, rosy faces, a picture of Heaven,
Petals scattered in a perfect line.
Those hills to climb, young love to seek.
In the blink of an eye, marching to the top
Never stop searching never drop
until you can relax in your clover
when the climb is over.
Take in the perfume
there is always room
among the pink and lime green
To be spotlessly clean,
Your young face, your green eyes retrace
familiar steps among the purple heather
wondering whether you are closer
The feeling is with you for a very long time.
The decent after the climb takes your breath away
and replaces with the love of your life holding buttercups
you haven't seen beauty like this for a very long time.
The flowing gold in her hair makes you stare
Radiating with love and romance, you walk with the petals
down your golden aisle, and have love for a very long time.

Like diamonds sparkling on the beach
A simple grain of sand glistens
Windswept, drowned by the tide
But it listens, oh yes it listens.

Been around forever, forever and a day
And will be there for many more years.
Windswept, drowned by the tide
But it hears,  oh yes it hears.

Soak the conker in vinegar and a bit of salt
Make sure that the vinegar contains malt.
Place a hole in the middle of each
Suspend at arms length to reach.
Bash them till they're battered and brusied
Clash them, cling them to keep you amused.
The outxome will be plain for all to see
The one that has survived claims victory.

This year Santa has a particular personal worry
And I don’t mean to complicate the riddle
But when I say he has eaten far too much this year
And the weight has piled on around his middle.

Yes he has got far too fat around his girth
He is worried the sleigh won’t take his weight
Unfortunately unless he goes on a crash diet
He will be regretting what he ate!

The time came and to cut a long story short
He boarded along with the toys and was on his way
Rudolph noticed he was under some strain
And wondered what he has stuffed on the sleigh.

“What’s he got back there” moaned Dancer
The rest of them pulled hard to drive
They came to an abrupt halt on a roof
Santa shot down a chimney with a nose dive.

He realised he was the wrong way round
But then it had all gone mysteriously black
He wished he could understand the dilemma he was in
The truth of the matter he’d got stuck in the sack.

He arrived at the bottom in a heap with and a crash
Toys, paper and mince pies were everywhere
To put it bluntly he was in a complete mess
And I dare not say what had happened to his hair.

Rudolph gingerly looked through the window
And thought the view was indeed very weird
Santa has apparently got stuck in his sack
And he had carrots poking out of his beard.

Meanwhile just to complicate matters
His team players, the reindeers were getting merry
Eating mince pies like there was no tomorrow
And knocking back the extra dry sherry.

Rudolph managed to get Santa back in a heap
And plonked him on the trusty old sleigh
Carried on and did Santa’s job himself
In a Rudolph the red nose reindeer sort of way.

Thanking goodness that was over he can get some rest
And was proud that he had delivered the toys
What the family will think when they see the mess
And he hopd they didn’t hear the fuss and noise.

I wonder if a Goldfish swimming round in his bowl
Thinks “This is familiar, have I been here before?
I seem to be seeing the same things in the same place
As I swim round and round, more and more”.

I wonder what a dog thinks as he smells the dinner
Cooking then it is served piping hot from the pan
Then he gets his solidified in some sort of jelly
Straight out from the same old looking can.

I wonder what a pretty bird thinks held in a cage
Talking to himself then notices he is not alone
A reflection leads him to believe he has a new mate.
Puts his best claw forward tries not to moan.

He looks into the mirror dangling on  a short chain
“Hi, I’m Peter, you can call me Pete I suppose"
And then sits all day watching himself with
A kind of “look at me” type of pose.

I wonder what a newspaper feels as it is
Pelted through a letterbox ten miles per hour
Or does it feel pain around red hot chips
Does the vinegar make the paper sour?

I Wonder if a bird hears a worm wriggling
When he wrenches it from under the ground
Worms aren’t noisy, so how do they do that then
When worms are soft, slimy and don’t make a sound.


I Wonder .........

An early morning chat up line, to have a moan and a whine
Birds come for miles to have a perch on the washing line.
A row of bright orange spindly short bony legs
Crushed in-between old big, fat wooden clothes pegs
Dozens of beady eyes staring at an icy weaving trail
Made by a rather tempting delicious unfortunate snail.
A couple of birds pluck up courage and sing
Together with backing singers from the fairy ring.
There is a hustle and bustle high in the trees
Violently shaking the crisp golden leaves.
Cackles and loud high pitched warning cries
Coming from a couple of suited and booted magpies.
The commotion stirs talk amongst the birds on the line
News travels fast on the old bird grape vine!
The snail is spared to live just another day
Birds say their goodbyes and go their own sweet way

Terrible.
Utterly terrible.
The cake would say.
The trouble I’ve had in the oven today.
Blasting heat, smashing my tin
Which the goo is sitting in.
Tapping to see if I have got
A soggy bottom. If you please.
If I had, I certainly would not
Broadcast it.  Keep it clean.
Scraping the bowl,  oh I would love to do that.
Fingers sliding over the goo ooooh.
Magic box of tricks
That cake mix.
No one has touched me
Not been anywhere near me.
Not even a try
I wonder why.

They say
a beautiful life
begins with
a beautiful mind.

There is a strange noise
I heard it long ago.
It blew messages as I strolled
where gentle streams flow.
These waters sent notes
written on dry crisp leaves
To the clouds to scatter messages
from angels silver sleeves.
The messages were whistles in the wind
I shall never forget that tale
from the slightest, smallest breeze
to a force nine gale.
The messages were gentle from the angels
They bought smiles and laughter that day.
Those whistles in the softest of breeze
are with me now and that is where they'll stay.

In these times of despair
let there be peace.
When you think nobody is there
That times are hard and hopeless
let the dread cease
and let there be peace.
In these times of uncertainty
let there be peace.
When the shots keep coming
Let them stop.
When times are hard and hopeless
let the dread cease
and let there be peace.
In all of our hearts, we know
that peace is paramount
In all of our countries, land and homes
people count
In hills, mountains, on sand and dry zones
people care
So Lord, help those who need it, let there be peace.