The crops are being gathered in, root vegetables from cold earth
Pickles are being made - you reap what you sow.
The baker madly gathers his flour for what he is worth
pounding and kneading his early morning dough.

He rests wearily for a tea break in the shade
Keeping an eye on his ever rising bread.
Fit for the ultimate preserve - marmalade
his tongue licks his lips thinking of the spread.

He rests where the leaves entwine with the mauve
Lemons hanging in the sunshine - there is a lot
The oranges ripening in the cool of the grove
His hands are tired and he cares not a jot.

He can smell the fruit simmering in the copper pan
The sugar preserving the taste of the cherry
It is then poured into hot glass jars and labelled "jam"
Placed onto the shelf with every other kind of berry.

If you are sitting comfortably I will tell you the story
of the magnificent, sparkling in its full glory.
And this is how the tale begins.
It was spectacular, with ribbons, bows and sequins.
It had ***** of gold glitter and magical charms
stars draped majestically from its arms.
Sparkly diamonds were all aglow
An array of colour straight from the rainbow.
Nobody has ever told it to dress down
and on its head it wears a golden crown
There are presents and gifts lying at its base
stuffed tightly in: there is no available space.
Boxes with ribbons in all different sizes
Hard work has done this to provide prizes.
It is that time of the year - yes it's the Christmas tree
and there it was - the tree.

I have a song in my heart
and it is blue.
The beat is slow, a trombone strikes
my heart shatters in two
and one half is for you.

I have a song in my heart
and the message is green.
The fingers snaps to its tempo
You are my king and I am your queen
Nothing can come in-between.

I have a song in my heart
It has angels and a muffled drum.
The funeral marches to a single beat
My stomach ate its last biscuit crumb
My world has been silenced - I am gone.

Friends are forever.
They soften the worse things in life.
Smoothing over crinkles that appear.
A gentle whisper in one's ear.
Things that you need to hear.
The good times.
We live in different time zones
We live in different homes
But one thing is for sure
We are friends forever
and what is more
we have good times.
We have giggles and
what is more
we have each other.
I dont need anything more,
Because I have the world in you
I could not ask for anything more.

He rolls home at an unearthly hour
covered in a new shade of lipstick
Perfume and a note stuck to his pocket.
She waits, patiently, till she spots him
singing at the top of his voice.But no more.
Panic grips his throat, silences his joy.
A tired hand whizzes across his cheeks
a red reminder that satisfies her anger
Questions, upon questions are fired
like a bullet from a gun.
She wants answers, no more patience.
What is done is done.
She drags his weary sack of bones he's tired
She wants revenge.
He wants to sleep.
She wants to weep.
He's out like a lark.
When loves turns dark.

Comparing how much you will love each other
Until the end of your days, when time runs dry.
You will love him more than there are stars in the sky.
He will love you more than there are blades of grass.
Until the planet ceases to revolve, till the moon switches off.
He looks at you through youthful eyes, your shiny face
She looks at him through rose tinted glasses, your tasty lips.
She tastes your mouth, your hands roam free
Your grip tightens on his skin, forever locking in the love.
He drops to his knees, heart pounding, dictating the moment
He asks the question, accepting without hesitation.
Now he looks at her through tired, worn eyes.
Examining the crinkles, wrinkles and lines.
Seeking out the teenager he once knew.
She looks at him with a question in her heart.
Why did she accept so quickly, she knew from the start.
It was love, it was there knocking at her door.
It was at her feet even before
He was there.
It is called teenage love and it lasts forever.

Greed is a sad time
but when you are that way inclined
desperate measures means desperate times.
Little things matter.
Looking for something that is not there.
Curious, suspicion and greed.
That is you need
to be jealous.

Love is a beautiful time
and when you are that way inclined.
Holding hands with your hero.
Little things matter.
Looking for that smile, that gentle kiss.
Emotion, caring and kind
Is all you will find
to fall in love.

There is something in the air
not sparkles and raindrops
or magic dust from a fairy.
No we are not in dreamland
or some distant fairy quarters.
We are in the world of love
where knees knock in time
to the beating heart.
Where there is a song in your head
a sweet song of happiness and joy.
There is a dampness rising from the
palm of your hand
and butterflies are gathering in the
pit of your deeper stomach.
Why?
Because of love.
Because you have met the partner
of your dreams.
Time is on a ledge in the sand timer
the hands of the clock are motionless
the earth has had orders to stand still
for one brief moment. And then it happens.
You fall in love.
The ledge tips to allow the sand to fall with glee
The hands on the clock applaud you
and the earth sighs a sigh of relief.
Well your heart is doing a slow waltz
whizzing your blood around with a slow glow.
And your face, it is shining and you have a smile
just like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland
because that is where you are:  Wonderland.

The siren awakes me, shakes my heart
Alarm bells are ringing inside my head
I cant quite seem to distinguish the two apart
so I pull the sheets up and resume sleep in the bed.

There it is again, the sirens seem a lot deeper
It as if a hand, an icy hand is stirring me again
This time the situation is a lot creepier
and my bravery is heading straight down the drain.

My hands are shaking now and I have gone quite hot
The blood is rushing around like an agitated stream.
I hear a distant lullaby, and it is making me smile a lot
because I know this is just one very bad dream.

Lying flat amongst the purple clover
on top of a very chalky hill.
Listening to my mind tick over
and around me life is perfectly still.

I calmly glance at the blue sky
I can smell the fragrance of late honeysuckle
I notice the dance of the pale blue butterfly
tasting the sweetness of the corn cockle.

I manage a few shut eyes and forty thinks
Then realise my mind is one mad scramble
I try to visualise cottage roses and rich red pinks
and decide to venture on in a casual amble.

I wondered if this is where they keep forgotten rainbows
in amongst the silence where the river bends
Perhaps it is where the blue lavender grows
in a place where promises are made and false hopes end.

The air sweeps gracefully across my peachy face
I hear the lonely call of an overhead thrush
I decide to leave my Heaven, my resting place
and return once more to life's mad, mad rush.

Shuffling along with wrinkles to match the leaves
Both the leaves and the feet were dry and crispy.
Veins, broken down a long time ago now, she knew
the blood wavy like the curls in her hair, thin and wispy.

Her breath was cold, she was icy, no jacket to keep her warm
Her mind had gone together with her dreams
Goodness where they have gone - she knew
she stopped taking her pills, lotions and her creams.

She lived in her own sweet little world, her safe world
just eating, drinking and sleeping when she could.
Whether it be last weeks crust of the bread, she knew
Most of her intake was either mouldy or covered in blood.

She coughed, her icy breath just about holding out in her
Her lungs filling and collapsing with the damp morning air.
She had no idea where she was going she wished she knew
Her family had washed their hands of her, she had no care.

In this day and age, this should be not so, there are many like her
The elderly, the forgotten elderly, they have seen so many things
Are wise and yet know so very little, but she knew
She knew one thing,  loneliness is killing her. It's the misery it brings.

A thousand fairies were dancing
all through this one particular night.
Hanging moonbeams and ribbons on an Oak Tree
in pretty bows making sure they were tight.

There were white ribbons, pink and blue
all of which were dancing in the breeze.
Fairies everywhere, flitting in and out
dodging the acorns and little lemon leaves.

All but one fairy, who stood rigid and very still
Reflecting on her life for a brief moment
then lost her footing slowly and surely
and then began the roll downhill

She was rolling trapped in a fast spin
collecting buttercups in her hair
finally she came to an sudden halt
she found herself in a lacy, white square.

"Oh what have we here, dreams do come true"
thought the long legged, hairy spider
"And look,  she has flowers in her hair,
she will be known as my buttercup rider".

"She is tiny, oh so frail, the spider was entranced
His heart now was awash with so much love
The Lord has answered my prayer at long last
this is what I have always dreamed of.

My beautiful little friend, and it is so lonely here
trapped in my web of deceit and silence
The fairy now came to with a look of horror
"Oh little one, I do not offer you any offence"

My legs, do not be scared, they are hairy I know
but they can offer you so very much
I can massage you, feed you, and hold your hand
all in one go, I have the sweetest of a loving touch.

I can spin you the very finest silk
and make for you the finest fairy gown
I will gather berries from the forest
and make you the perfect crown.

Because you are my Queen and I am your King
I will bring you everything, we'll never be apart
Do not wince at my rather ugly exterior
for inside of me beats a romantic heart.

I will worship you, everyday you will have fresh flowers
I will bring you sunshine on a rainy day
But the fairy was long gone by now and all she heard
was the lonely scream from the spider "please stay!"

When you go through the darkness
and you travel briefly across the light
Through your pain and then your sorrow
You are destined then to win your fight.

The pain was tough, we know
the sorrow was the very least tragic
then fresh hopes and dreams were born
and then through the silence came magic.

Sparkles dropped like raindrops from above
shining like gems from a newly commissioned crown
Overwhelming feelings of happiness
turned the frowns upside down.

Through your disaster comes triumph
Through the dark it seems you have won
This feeling, take with you ever after
because today your new day has begun.

Deal or No Deal A tribute to Florence Bentley
Deal or No Deal her favourite host would say
Noel Edmonds to her just a mere youngster
Fun and the thrill of it all is what she liked
A gift she had and many more amongst her.

In her youth she looked like a film star
Stunningly beautiful like Marilyn Monroe
Laughter was important to her
Met with a smile and a “mind how you go”

She would giggle and had a twinkle in her eye
That twinkle staying to the bitter end
Our mum has lost a supportive sister
And a lifelong best friend.

Now that we are met with sorrow in our hearts
But then she would not want that – not our flo
So with a brave smile on all of our faces
We say farewell aunty flo and mind how you go

My Auntie Flo passed away a couple of years ago but most days I still think about her.
She was cheerful always and an absolute star. I read my poem out at her funeral and as her final curtains closed I read the last line out, with a brave smile for her then crumbled.
She was 97 when she passed away and worked all of her life.  Once again Auntie Flo this is for you.

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.

Fear is an emotion
An adrenaline run
One that orders hairs
on the skin to attention.
A fright, a scare.  An upset
to the system.
Since time begun
From cavemen to now
Fear has made us stronger
otherwise we would not survive.
Live, breathe, come out alive.
But nobody likes fear.
It is not nice to now, experience
Life changes into first gear
for power, to exist, to run.
The breath gets short,
the heart moans and groans
under protest. It has fear.
We all do, but wish we had not.

My body is aching
I am full of pains
The pills want taking
I am trapped in chains.
The links are sealed
between each clasp
My pains have healed
it's within my grasp.

An owl hooted sending shivers down her spine
The ground seemed to jump in unison with her
The breeze slowly wafted across her peachy face
As she strolled, very slowly, thoughtfully as it were.

Her mind was a jumbled mess, no sense of calm
Thoughts shooting in all directions, it was bad.
If only she had listened to her mother in the first place
She sighed, counting her blessings, and she was glad.

Glad because many things had happened in her life
Things that would make the average hair curl
But she stepped forward, with best foot with hope
Even though her complicated mind was still in a whirl.

Mothers are always rights, she knew this, it is true
Through dark, into light, from thick onto thin.
Her heart was now pounding, her pulse racing
and she felt the butterflies disturbed from within.

This lonely path on which she walked, lined with leaves
crisp, brittle and colourful, rather like her mind
Her steps, fairy steps barely made each leaf move
Her thoughts varied, and there were leaves of every kind.

A bird whistled down to her advising her where to tread
The mist, damp and lingering led her way across the trail
Her breath hot and steamy warmed the cockles of her heart
and her hair dangled on her face like a rich ****** veil.

She made her way out of the trail, confident now and happy
Looking forward to the highlight of her day.
She stepped forward with a song from  her soul
and the lonely path on which she walked was now far away.

Inside your body,
there is a brass band playing
Your heart is beating to the drum.
Your nerves are the guitar strings
and you have symbols in your tum.
Your knees dont need any instrument
they are knocking by themselves.
Your teeth have life of their own too.
Your hands are shaking, dont know why.
And butterflies are whirling in your brain.
There she is, dolled up to the nines
Lipstick is going to be on your shirt.
You will smell like Heaven and that is okay.
And your words have just floated down the drain.
Your cheeks have turned a rich and **** red
Just like the colour of her dress.
Is your shirt ironed properly, she will inspect it
Is it hot off the press?
Have you the right words to say, do not get this wrong
Say the right words and in the right order
Or you will pay for it all of your life long.
Then there is the kiss, oh the first kiss
Memory that will stain your lips for true.
Pucker up lad,have you washed your teeth
Do you know the right and wrong thing to do?
Then there is the love bit, oh the love thing.
Get the groove, set the pattern and hold her hand
Then when your stomach is churning like a dairy
and your juices thicken you can say "Marry Me".
Man up and dont start acting like a fairy.

There is nothing quite like being a mother
Being there for your baby, always your baby.
Caring, sharing, knowing, loving and being a friend.
A shoulder to cry on, an apron to leave a mark.
An unfinished dinner made with love polished off
A beating heart calmed nicely, no payment required.
We are a nurse, advisor, carer, dishwasher and cook
we are always to hand, always to care and all of the above.
To be a mother, have a smile, a kiss, and unconditional love.

Whether it be just baked beans on toast
or topside of beef for a family roast.
The gravy dripping in the pan
Strawberries crammed in the flan
Or cockles and muscles at the coast.

Mushy peas in a big white dish
is more than I could ever wish.
slap on the mint sauce
and I'll have another course
followed by chips and fried fish.

Bakers bake this dish from the heart
Adding pastry bits on top for art
Some say it is nice
with a touch of spice
but I prefer just plain apple ****.

There was once a man from Bury
Who liked the odd jug of Sherry
He drank it quick
which made him sick
But it never once made him merry.

It is raining but not as we know it
Raining moon beams and stars
Shooting across the night sky
Colourful rainbows in the dead of night
A jet engine had waxed burners
etching the dark revealing colour
Like a finger nail scratching the board
a painted dark board with wax beneath.
The sky, lined with violet and crimson
lime and yellow, a show for occasions
But it is an event especially for my friend
My life long friend, who is always in my heart.
The message in the sky reads like this.
Happy Anniversary to my friends Liz and John
May your day be filled with colourful confetti.

Puffing slowly along the track
Passengers sipping champagne
sitting comfortably back to back
on the midnight steam train.
Some care to drink tea from a china cup
Others prefer scones with whipped cream
The music from the rails steps up
as they glide over the silver stream.
The guardsman signals a stop ahead
The passengers get ready to disembark
It is the time the ladies tend to dread
fumbling around in the dark.
The engine driver's stomach moans
It needs refuelling like the pit
The coal is poked and glows
and the ashes redden bit by bit.
Bread is laid upon the *****
And fed into the heat
Bacon is laid upon the toast that's made
and their breakfast is almost complete.
A quick stop then no turning back
the whistle is blown and the passenger's choke
as the steam train puffs merrily up the track
leaving behind a trail of smoke.

Stepping over the clover
along the river bank.
I suddenly had a thought
and then my heart sank.
How long will this last,
this beauty, this delight?
When all around there is destruction
and the never-ending fight.
Trees are being chopped down
walls that keep in the warm.
Now we are left with emptiness
and exposed to every harm.
Birds will no longer fly free
there will be no trees for them to perch.
Instead there will be just cloudy skies
and there will be the never ending search.
Searching for food that does not grow
Looking for water, clean water to drink.
Filth has exterminated every fish in the sea
and every brain has the inability to think.
How long before there will be nothing but rubble
Every building being took to its knees.
How long before civilisation packs up completely
There will be no land left, just raging, angry seas.
Nobody wants to see this happen, the world come to this
Let us all do something about it now and take action
Build relationships, end wars, make your peace
Put smiles on faces and end sadness, end destruction.
Shake hands, bring war to an end, make it a thing of the past
a little boy drowned, washed to shore, a crying shame
Think to yourself, I can make a difference, I can make peace
Then you have yourself to thank, be proud and have no one to blame.

When I was growing up
we had Flowerpot Men
On the television with Little ****.
Their names were  Bill and Ben
who were very strange men indeed.

They were made out of flower pots
and had a hat on their head to match.
This strange gangly flower lived between
It was an odd sight to watch
If you've seen it you'd know what I mean.

But we were glued to the black and white screen
Watching Bill and Ben jig around their pots
Little **** had a squeaky high voice for a plant
It needed the Woodentops dog with the spots
Who used to have legs that were on a slant.

Casey Jones used to put a smile on my face
With his stripy trousers and a very big wave.
Those were the days with Watch With Mother
The happiness and enjoyment it gave
As I sit now watching Celebrity Big Brother.

We worry over money, we worry about the weather
While some poor folk have none of the above together.
They have nothing but the clouds over their heads
Nothing, no roof, no water or make do sheds.
They have plenty to fear, worry and dread
Searching for food or indeed for a clean bed.
If we gave something, to those that are without
It would ease their pain, ease their doubt
So for those with nothing, please give them something
Because our worries are nothing, but to them its everything.

It is indeed a month to remember
As we headlong into October
The spiders creep in our door
and there seems to be more and more
At least the wasps are gone in September.

Fruit and nuts that are gathered are vast
Apples for cider are falling fast
Conkers and acorns
Cabbages and sweet corns
It is my favourite month at last.

To be a good poet
you have got to know it
Know what I hear you cry
and also ask the reason why
You need rhyme, words and wit.

To be a good poet needs time
Time to get the words to rhyme
I've got other fish to fry
No time to actually try
Is that such a big crime?

When you're satisfied with your verse
And it's trending thanks to your purse
Look back and smile
because it took a while
which to me couldn't be any more worse.

Opens doors for me, of course he does.
He is there for me, come what may.
He is my husband and my very best friend
He is my love in the old fashioned way.

When life throws its everything at you
Crushing your plans, throwing its weight
Cling on to something, there is still love
The door has not closed, it's never too late.

When you think you've been left on life's shelf
Where you think life has passed on by
Cling on to the never ending dream
There is still an extra arrow from cupid to fly.

There are more fish in the sea than you think
It is still worth the extra effort to throw the bait
So cast extra line, don't throw away the key
the door is still open for love, it is never too late.

Oh la la
The hair dangles alongside pearls
The dog admired himself
he had a head full of curls.
Lucky dog.

Strolling along
It was late summer, a breeze
swept my face, brushing my lips
The leaves on the willow were still
I wondered why.
I said hello
The morning was advancing
swiftly moving were the hands on the clock
The clock at the town hall had many faces
But not as many as him I thought.
He'd get an award dressed in gold
for some of his performances I thought
shouting his head off
first thing in my morning
When I could have been peacefully strolling
Like now.  I thought for a while, like I do
I was hungry
Hungry for happiness to come my way
I was once - happy.  I shall have to define it.
Being able to smile without guilt
Relaxed not tense
Wondering if my teacup would brush my face
like the breeze.
Now I am going backwards. Not in time,
Nor am I strolling towards the beginning
of my walk.
I want to go back if the forward could be different.
Back then we were happy.
Not now  Happiness is not allowed any more.
But I am happy now, just for the walk.
My thoughts haunt me.
They cloud my head.
Throwing the blanket of misery over.
I saw him. Just.
His face was pulling the two o'clock face
which was a progressing frown.
Just like the clock in the town.

This is a tale about a mouse
He lived in a hole, not a house.
Would you live in one, as small
Its arched and set in the wall
He crawls in and he crawls out
He's not likes, that's without doubt.
When he goes in followed by his tail
He comes out to a scream an wail.
The woman stands on a stool
As if she thinks I'd hurt her at all!
The mouse is furry and little
her bones are old and brittle.
Which broke when she fell
now it seems I live in hell.
The hole is no longer there
the mouse is homeless, not fair.
Everyone needs somewhere to go
when all you do is scurry to and fro.
It is not fair.

There are so many things
so many times and events
I wish I were born with wings
So many good times, regrets.
But there are a million reflections
A path lined with gold
Sparkling, showing me a route
to do what I am told.
I am not a child, nor adult
but unborn ready to love
I am not a feeling, nor space
I am not sent from above.
I am a mere reflection
one of the million that there are
I am but a tiny spark of life
waiting at the bar.
I am the bubble in the fizz
I am the air that you breathe
I am a million reflections
Trapped in a web that we weave.
I am the knot in your shoelace
I am the anger in the dark
I am a million reflections
Etched on the million year old bark.
For I am the leaves on the tree
the wind that allows them to dance
I am a million reflections
I am your eyes in your trance.
I am all these things, like it or not
Look around you see the beauty
see the reflections, they do exist.

Life's not a bowl of cherries
So just enjoy them.

Read on if you dare
For it is designed to scare
For you will cry, a tear drop
You'll wonder why will plop
Read on, you are halfway there.

Boo, now you are shaking in your shoes
Did it make you jump, did your nerves fuse
Dry your eyes dear
the end is almost near
Well it is over now, you had nothing to lose.

My river
in my soul
red,  forever grows
The breeze in my veins
rushes headlong, flows
It never rains
In me, never pours
My skin glows
with heath no lines
no wrinkles,  crinkles.
no deep paths to tread.
Just a river that runs ahead
smoothing, flowing
to its source instead.
To the sponge that absorbs
the essence of life itself
where thoughts and memories
are placed on my shelf.
The shelf of life with
a river that flows in my head.

Nothing, but nothing would make her life more complete
Without something in her mouth that tasted oh so sweet
But then everything sweet that went into those rich red lips
Gathered permanently on those rather expanding fairy hips.
It did not matter how sugary, the colour of the sweet or the size
It was all eaten pleasurably and then went to her thighs.
She loved it all,  gob stoppers, fairy pips and most of all toffee
Sugar mice, dandelion heads and gums flavoured with coffee.
She always had loads of packets of creamy fake sweet eggs
they had the taste of an orange but accumulated on her legs.
The more she ate, the fatter they got, which had its good bits
They enables her to perch in the tree until the wood splits.
She had packed in her fairy store all kinds of fruit whips
every kind of chocolate bar, lollipop and candied pips.
In all flavours, apple, banana, woodland berry and plum
But it mattered not to her how sweet, like it does to some.
Every slice, every little fruit drop, each little wrapped bar
was placed in its own nicely labelled sweet jar.
Lined up at the bottom of her favourite tree, her treat booth
Her world is complete, for the fairy of the sweet tooth.

They Bake A Cake
They asked if they could dabble in a bit of cooking.
She gulped said her prayers and counted to ten
They asked if they could steal the eggs while the hen wasn’t looking
So without delay and morals they whipped them away from the hen.
They were in a flap so that most of his stuff landed on the floor.
They had found the good butter and thick double cream.
Which apparently smeared everywhere including the door
While she  was relaxing and in a huge daydream.
She was in a good mood and was listening to Elgin
Barely keeping awake and had nodded off again.
They were searching the saucepan cupboard looking for a cake tin
When the door sprang open and in marched the old hen.
She shouted, they froze and she began to shake
They were struggling to find the right words to say.
They offered her some nice tea and a fairy cake
And they were devising a plan to get away.
They turned tables and said she wanted to bake
Thought that she could have bought the eggs instead
She said that there had been a bit of a mistake
But they went bright red and held their heads.
The hen ordered that her precious eggs be put back
And was disappointed they had taken them in the first place
They were discussing who should put them back
And the guilt began to show on each and every face
She said they were flippant and not thought it through
They were all gripping to death their handkerchieves
Now it seems they all thought the hen had gone cuckoo
But one stepped forward and said he was the thief.
Later on they both said they would go and see Mrs Hen
On arrival he dropped onto his knees.
The rest were wondering what their friend was up to again
and heard him begging forgiveness for stealing please!
“Well, you are a turncoat, what’s come over you”
They although that his situation is now rather bleak
and all gave advice what he could do
which was the topic of conversation for the rest of the week!

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.

Cost of food
price of fuel
Very soon it will be Oliver Twist
and living on gruel
The cost of living
is a bit sky high
the result is fits of giggles
if I didn't, I'm afraid I'd cry!

Your sweet lips
upon mine
An embrace
Just divine
Just a kiss
because you are mine
complete bliss.

The man rose from his chair
His tummy full of crackers and cheese
He’d polished off another éclair
And wiped the cream from his knees.
The lady was devouring cheesy strings
And a sandwich crammed with ham
she'd got lemon curd caked in her rings
And her mouth was smeared with jam.
The man was in a daydream
Thinking of something sweet
Perhaps some juicy cherries and cream
Topped with chocolates and wheat.
The man retired to bed, I wonder why!
He had become quite ill
The lady knew the reason why
And told him to stay still.
She asked her friend for advice
While the man counted sheep
Her friend said he was paying the price
But nursed him while he was asleep.

The man's wig had become unstuck
As it started to flap around in the breeze.
The lady was hunting for something to ****
And was trying her best not to sneeze.
They had found their flight and stood in a queue
Clutching their passports quite tight
They watched their suitcases **** through
As the Stewardess wished them both a good flight.
The man told the lady that he would be okay
He told her to relax and think of the sea.
He said he would find a nice cafe
And then pop over to the Duty Free.
The lady undid her tight shoelace
And asked the man if he would take a look.
She knew her feet were a disgrace
And became embarrassed at the time it took.
Aboard the ‘plane they were ready to become airborne
The lady nervously clutched at her tissue
The man's ears had popped and he was trying to yawn
But the lady was examining the air crew.
In a short time they started to descend
The lady reached for the man’s hand
It was clear they had become friends
As the pilot prepared to land.

Rustling, there were papers rusting
being rearranged, noisy papers
on my mind together with lists
lists of shopping, clothes and shoes
and then I thought I heard a chair
being dragged across a floor, whose
chair, whose floor, nobody knows.
Shuffling, there were feet shuffling
as if badly fitting slippers were worn
moving in an annoying way, shuffling.
Moaning, to top it all I hear moaning
Is it me? My voice I hear moaning.
It should be, I have enough to bear.
What with shuffling, dragging and rustling.
There will be scraping next.
Sliding the sharpest of nails down a
shiny blackboard, a screech of a sound.
Oh no I can be definitely found
complaining.  Go back to where you belong
I do hope.  Drag yourself into the never-never.
You know the no man's land of bad hope.
The place where silence is apparent, no life.
Where silence is golden, till they all start.
Creating. Silence is a lovely word.
And the dark should be a peaceful place.

Old age pensioners
settled in their comfortable home.
Protected, safe and happy.
Joan, our Joan
Butter would not melt in her mouth.
All week she has been flustered
swapping her jelly and custard
for a private stash
of shiny ready cash.
For the end of the week treat.
They all pull out their rollers and meet
at the green card table.
Some that are not so able
are wheeled in.
You can feel the tension
the stake - their pension.
But then that is alright
It is just a friendly fight.
The cards are shuffled, well rearranged
some go on the floor
some sneak under the door.
Cheating begins.
First for black jack, they all know
as they sit in a gentle row
Watching their backs,
their bony hands gripping tight
winking, leading up the garden path.
Suggesting they have the ace
such a lovely pace
Then the joker is played
and a four of spades
greets with dismay and a sigh
The draw was low the ace was high
Nothing to grab your fancy
Just a game of cards.