Respect our elders, for we'll be the same one day
with wrinkles, forgetfull and hair of silver grey
But apart from the old wrinkle
in the eye there will be a twinkle
As the old ones dont hold back on what they say.

Then they smile and deny what they have said
Have no remorse or feelings of guilt in their head
Nobody minds if they blow raspberries galore
or gulp down the sherry and then ask for more
I dont think being old is nothing to fear or dread!

He glances at himself a red tinge to his cheek
At least he has his health but he looks a freak.
“Am I supposed to be this shade” – he inspected a feather.
A parrot is not pink an wanted to be orange like a carrot
How much more he can take I am not sure
“I am a parrot and I am pink, put me out of my misery”
He wanted to be dyed and have you no sympathy.
He sat down and he cried.
His friend was there with him who had fallen from the tree.
He said to him at least he was slim not overweight like him.
The parrot sat in deep thought and it made him think
At the end of the day I am alive even if I am pink.
And pink is a nice colour!

Met for the first time with your baby
The love you have in your heart flows
No not flows, rushes to every nerve
and the bond you have just grows
That is unconditional love.

Met for the first time with your soul mate
The person with whom you moan, laugh, sing and grow old
No not grow old, mature with to the end of your days
To love always, and to have and to hold.
That is unconditional love.

You are the love of my life, my everything
This is how I feel deep inside.
Without you my life would be incomplete
My whole being is so full of pride.

I have joy rushing around my soul
Laughter lives in my blood stream
There is a sense of hope deep within me
You are my strawberries and cream.

You are the perfect cup of tea
The perfect topping on my cupcake
You open floodgates letting love rush in
Without you, well my heart would ache.

I love you more than thee are grains of sand
stars in our sky. impossible to measure.
You are my cherry on top of the icing
You are the perfect golden treasure.

Each time you go I worry begging you back
Each time you leave me  my eyes weep tears
I catch each salty reminder that you've gone
They are tiny, damp but they are souvenirs.

I have inside of me love which will not die
a pump that will refuse to lose its tick - my heart
This heart could not possibly hold more love
It is jam packed, it is a complex body part.

For all of these reasons, you are my everything
Without you my body would crumble with pains
My skin would wither, my blood dry in its tracks
Without you I woud have empty veins.

There is something about your smile
It can brighten the dullest of days
It brings sunshine to the cloudiest corner
lifts spirits in so many ways.
Your eyes light up and the gloom disappears
I find myself smiling along with you
There is just something special about your smile
It just brings positivity in everything we do.
It makes worries drown, pains disappear
It brings hope to this world we so desperately need.
Your smile brings a joy to the room,
it takes away sadness, hurt and greed.
There is just something special about your smile....

Are you real Fairy Godmother
When I was a child, my wishes came true.
So as I approach the twilight of my years
I have a proposal to put before you.

When I was a child I always thought of others,
At Christmas the joy for me was smiles on faces.
But always knowing that there was someone suffering
Amongst poverty, hardship and unsafe places.



My dad taught me to work hard, enjoy life
Knuckle down with plenty of elbow grease.
But at night I always prayed for everyone
Wishing and hoping for happiness and peace.

So dear Fairy Godmother, I know you have powers
To help all sick and suffering people, whoever they may be
This is my one and only wish, if it may be granted
To heal everyone, put smiles back and everyone pain free.

Dear Fairy Godmother

Are you real Fairy Godmother
When I was a child, my wishes came true.
So as I approach the twilight of my years
I have a proposal to put before you.
When I was a child I always thought of others,
At Christmas the joy for me was smiles on faces.
But always knowing that there was someone suffering
Amongst poverty, hardship and unsafe places.
My dad taught me to work hard, enjoy life
Knuckle down with plenty of elbow grease.
But at night I always prayed for everyone
Wishing and hoping for happiness and peace.
So dear Fairy Godmother, I know you have powers
To help all sick and suffering people, whoever they may be
This is my one and only wish, if it may be granted
To heal everyone, put smiles back and everyone pain free.

Hot chestnuts warming in their skin
Wild cherries for the brandy and sloes for the gin

Bramley apples and blackberries stewing together
Halls decked with bouquets of dried heather.

Deep dark red petals from the English rose
Pineapple mint food where the rosemary grows.

Oranges and lemons added for extra taste
Walnuts for the cake and almonds for the paste.

October’s pumpkins glowing bright
Apples dripping with toffee for bonfire night.

But waiting for the polished conkers to fall
Makes autumn the best season of them all.

Love is ..........
Love is sheltering from the rain
Together remembering not to complain
Making every little thing worthwhile
Changing sad times with a smile.
Love is learning to accept mistakes
Knowing when to put on the brake
When annoying habits come to light
Especially loud snoring at night.
Love is all about sharing, caring and acceptance
And of course it is all about romance.
Love is about trust. A must to survive
To keep the relationship alive.
Love is learning to forgive, starting again
When an argument sends stuff down the drain.
Holding each other, protecting and laughter
Giggling under the sheets, looking after
Each other when things go wrong.
Love is breaking into your favourite song
In the car when snow melts falling from above
Gently once more falling deeper in love.

PINK PARROT

He glances at himself a red tinge to his cheek
At least he has his health but he looks a freak.
“Am I supposed to be this shade” – he inspected a feather.
A parrot is not pink an wanted to be orange like a carrot
How much more he can take I am not sure
“I am a parrot and I am pink, put me out of my misery”
He wanted to be dyed and have you no sympathy.
He sat down and he cried.
His friend was there with him who had fallen from the tree.
He said to him at least he was slim not overweight like him.
The parrot sat in deep thought and it made him think
At the end of the day I am alive even if I am pink.
And pink is a nice colour!

On a warm afternoon
the gulls are squeaking
life is calm
children are speaking
life is calm
A bus screeches to a halt
All remains calm
A dog draws his last breath
He met his fate two seconds back
Then all is calm.
Children are silent
Tears well in eyes
The big red bus in shock
hearing cries
from the office block
And all is silent and calm.

IF ONLY
If only my fridge spoke
It would tell me to go away.
Put the pie back on the shelf
And eat it another day.
If only my oven spoke
It would tell me to keep it clean
I try but it gets messy again
That is not me being mean.
If only my dishwasher spoke
It would tell me it has had enough
Fed up with ***** pots and pans
Fed up with being treated rough.
If only I were superwoman
I could get these jobs done
What I need is a superman
Wonder if h will ever come?

As the song says you are unforgettable
In every way.
Your perfume, your smile,
Your pickle stabber.
Your only tooth
Unforgettable.
I'd run a mile
To tell the truth
Regrettable.
But there you are.

There once was an alien from outer space
Whose craft crashed in its resting place
His spaceship was on red alert
But he managed to escape unhurt
and subsequently disappeared without trace.

I was looking in my grandmother's old vegetable plot
Searching in and amongst the fragrant sweet peas
When I found an old brown mud encrusted teapot
Tangled up in roots of old forgotten trees.
Then I found my grandmother's old rusty *****
This had seen some action back in its day.
I held the teapot close and the memories had stayed
Had visions of may poles where my Gran used to play.
She'd pour her tea, drink it then invert the cup
Twist it three times one way and then the other
Turn the cup the right way up
Funny old ways hd my Grandmother.
She had her special way of making a brew
And I loved her such a lot
Searching and recalling scenes and there are a few
I found happines in an old brown teapot.

Silence Will Be My Best Friend

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.

I wish I were a fairy
My hair would be dyed blond
and I bet you have guessed
I'd have a magic wand.

I would wave it about like mad
Sprinkling fresh moon beams and stars
There would be no illness, no poverty
and I could live on Mars!

On behalf of all hedgehogs please read this before lighting your fire on bonfire night.
Wading through rotten wood gathered throughout the year
Lies a little baby hedgehog and in its eye there’s a tear.
In hedgehog talk he pleaded for help and, missing his mum
He was set free to walk back cold and lonesome.
He arrived home and his mum had missed her only son.
She cuddled him while he told her what he had done.
She realised her son could have been burned alive at night
He was under a pile of wood which could have set alight.
She looked at him with all the love in the world and more
But her precious little one was fast asleep on the floor.

Life is all about fitting in.
A new day at school
Sitting amongst total strangers
for a good couple of hours.
The powers that be say
Do not break any rule
at any point in the day.
Following guidelines
is not that bad,
There are times
when one is sad.
But we have acceptance
and that is all good.

A new day at the office
Sitting with total strangers
For more hours than you know.
The powers that be say
Do not break rules
anytime, any day.
We all follow regulations
It is not that bad
But the time to go home
When the whistle blows
Makes one feel glad
Blood pressure glows
"Good day love?" enquires she
"Time went quick" replied he.
Better when I have acceptance.

Acceptance brings friends, laughter
Makes time whizz like a spinning top.
Brings hope ever after
especially when time starts to drop
Accepted into society
Where trust is the king
Acceptance in life
well that is a different thing.

Sparkling like lemonade
The spider clings to what it's made.
Through the icy blue haze
A web glistens and it stays.
Frozen in space flies stay still
The temperature drops to an icy chill
Mist freezes and develops into fog
Confusing the path of the hedgehog.
It bumps into bubbles around the drain
Popping them with spikes which feels like rain.
The Fairy ring is always at the bottom of the lane
Without it the street would not be the same.
And this is where the blackbird sings.
It's early morning and another day begins.

Her world was golden
her world was sleek
Designed for the brave
Any second minute, day or week.
She waited and she waited
For that special moment to come
She had read in her paperbacks
What thoughts to think overcome.
Petals began to fall on her in disgust
The Magnolia had worked this one out.
Leaves encircled her feet, leaving dust
a lonely image, imprint of her shadow.
Hope began to question itself in her heart
Should she stay or should she go.
I suppose a little longer just to play the part
of an excited young lady, would not matter.
She started to whisper to herself,
words of encouragement, so as not to cry.
The Magnolia shed its tears hours ago.
She could hear footsteps, nearer they came
This could be him, the love of her future life
But she had only got herself to blame.
It was a milkman delivering orange juice
"Not much call for the white stuff nowadays" he said
"I'll soon be out of a job" he chuckled.
His words went in and straight out of her head
She half smiled and looked beyond in hope.
Looking at her watch, at last she saw sense.
The Magnolia had thrown caution to the wind
a long time ago, but sent its emotion to line her path.
If it could hug it would have done I imagine.
She went home, he appeared, late, to a wilted leaf.

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

The scarecrow is bored playing the same old game
Cold wet clothes hanging from a wooden frame.
He has no choice but to stand perfectly still
Scaring all the bird s at the top of the hill.
A crow calls out from under the hedgerow
“Catch me, scare me old wooden scarecrow”
But the scarecrow was staring across at a stable
As he had noticed there’s food laid on a table.
“Make haste little bird and fly over to the meadow
Bring me some nice juicy berries from the mistletoe”
“Please little bird, hurry now and be on your way
And can you bring m back some of the lovely hay”
But when the crow returned he found him asleep
He had become bored counting sheep.
The Crow lay beside his feet to keep himself warm
And needed shelter from the oncoming storm.
The scarecrow awoke and looked at his shoe
He had found a friend he could talk to.

During the night, a dreadful night, a mole dug deep
deep and around my garden that I love
This cheeky mole then had the nerve to stop burrowing
and then surface to check the damage from above.
Up came his velvety head and sniffed the fresh air
parting my newly laid lawn like a digger.
Now he appears to be smiling the cheeky scoundrel
He is making the problem a whole lot bigger.
"Look what yo have done" I shouted "made a right mess
The piles of earth are everywhere with your coming and froing"
"With all due respect madam" sniffed the mole "what do
you expect when I cannot exactly see where I am going!"
"I have no map, no satellite navigation device, just my claws
I am just a mole and all that I can do is dig, I've no appliance
No shiny *****, no mechanical device, what do you expect
Honestly madam it is not exactly rocket science.
He tutted and rushed back down the hole leaving me
speechless and trying my best not to cry.
The mole had made his way underground by now next door
but my hard work was down the drain - I wonder why!

How do I tell thee
as I stand freezing
watching waves on the sea
the wind squeezing
the breath from me.
How do I tell thee
I observe the fisherman
hauling his catch aside
getting all the fish he can
before the flow of the tide.
Well I am telling you
these fisherman young and old
watching the ebb and flow
and absolutely freezing cold.
So the next time we eat fish and chips
and that includes just me
The strength, determination and bravery
of these fisherman, they all deserve medals.
Risking life and limb so we can eat
Respect for the fisherman.

The old fishing boat shiny, worn yet proud
Had many an old fish bone scraped across its deck
Heard stories that would make your hair curl
and had seen weather at its worst but what the heck.
Had seen all the fish available from all the seas
nothing would surprise this old girl anymore.
Had the strength to carry on whatever the gale
Grin and bear it or go as you have gone before.
Its engine, had seen some time in its old life
struggling through seas as high as waves could get
Through ice as thick as an island so as to speak
and the new fishing boats wince if they get wet.
They would not last five seconds in conditions
like my fishermen have served thought the boat
Well if it could think that is what it would think
They look delicate and I dare say they would float.
But now the old fishing boat was being admired
stroked lovingly by tourists with cameras and tales.
Ice cream accidentally smeared on the deck
With its worn polished look and ragged sails.
But it was proud, and so it should be
For the fish it has fed folk, fishermen it had sailed
But now it had a place in tourist's heart, the town
It was admired, photographed and now emailed.
A buyer with plenty of money and hope in his heart
had bargained and won his bid. It was now his dream
to sail the boat with children on board and parents
sightseeing on board complete with a holiday team
Dressed in navy and white striped with straw hat
No fishing lines, nets, poles just an orange float.
With a sign that indicated the price of the trip
A retirement, a nice little trip for the fishing boat.

Waving its bells in the mid morning breeze
Sheltering under the lemon and lime leaves
The new leaves to enter a promising spring
What more could a bluebell possibly bring.

There once was a snowman that would not melt
he refused, point blank, that's how he felt.
His emotions got the better of him
He began to thaw and get thin
And gradually slid through his black belt.

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.

Across the width of the shiny railings
a wooden stick was dragged.
Beneath the beady eye of the peacock
quite a lot of skin sagged.
Through lack of sleep.
The peacock wished he had a penny
for every time he was awoken.
he longed for a decent nap
without the pattern broken.
All he wanted was sleep.
So he became an angry peacock
and showed his venom in his tail
Out shot each and every eye on the feather
a picture of beauty to unveil.
He wanted peace and quiet.
The children delighted in this act
and thought he was putting on a show.
They dragged their sticks furiously
Little did they care or even know.
So the peacock refused to sleep
slumped in a corner forever and a day.
Then came along a peahen dull as dishwater
the peacock was excite, didn't know what to say.
She is dull but I will compensate for that
He shook his feathers to impress.
The little lady strutted by oblivious
thought he was in fancy dress.
Well.

The Coastline
The salty spray
Crashing to the shore
Takes my breath away
I want to see more.
The coastline curves
Around the glorious bay
The beach huts serve
The finest cafe au lait.
Crunching pebbles underfoot
Sand in-between my toes
Forgetting the time it’s took
But then nobody knows.
Knows my whereabouts
Where I have been
Cannot hear my shouts
Or hear me scream
I’m joined by a lone gull
I offer him to share my lunch
In two seconds flat our space was full
Of hungry beaks eager to munch.
I enjoyed their company
Although I couldn’t hear myself think
There was that many
Birds fighting to eat and drink.
They eventually flew
They had other plans I could see
They had found someone new
And had finished with me.
I cared not a jot now and explored
The ragged coastline to the new town.
Rusty red boats were moored
Next to new ones clad in brown.
Ropes twisted, knotted and tied
Holding fast against the afternoon swell
The time suggests the incoming tide
My walk was over by order of the ship's bell.

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.

Sitting closely to the lavender
Who looks to the mackerel sky
Right next to the bird feeder
And has a golden twinkle in its eye
Is the tiny Forget Me Not, bluer than blue
With a tiny black dot.
Sheltering under the striped bamboo
In a cool shady spot.
She knows a thing or two
She comes back here twice a year
Its roots buried with the Yew
Where no gardener can interfere.
When the sun appears
And the clouds soften
After the rain clears
Which is not that often.
The Forget Me Not will remember
When the dark nights fall
It will be watching by the wall.
In early September

Driving down a dull grey road
A road leading to nowhere.
A road that has ruby ribbons
attached to it.
Ruby cornfields in a sea of yellow.
Splashes of hollyhocks and pink
Poppies, amongst the green,
Under a brown bridge, blue drink
flows to and fro, side to side
with stripes of white inbetween.
Ruby cornfields in a sea of blue
Lavender, mauves and scarlet inside.
An English countryside waiting for you.

Stuffed in every drawer
Just in case.
Carrier bags, hundreds
in every available space.
She says they will come in handy
They never ever do, do they?
"Keep it, it will come in"
the usual things she will say.
Candles, that is another one
If we never had electricity again
We would survive,
I am absolutely certain.
We have more tins of beans
and packets of dried up peas
If I ate those I'd have enough wind
to keep us going for years.
Oh and the secret drawer
full of old coins, beer tops and springs.
You never know, you know
when you want bits and bobs and things.
But old supermarket bags,
The elderly save them in case
In case of what I'd like to know
There are bags all over the place.

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.

She is ninety three
My mother in law
Happy Birthday
I hope you have more!

The Owl and the Cheese Sandwich
It rained all night, one sunny morning
the owl stood by my door
He said I gave him a cheese sandwich
And now he’s come back for more.

I thought, cheese, I don’t buy the stuff
The fridge is packed with it you know,
I tried to fob the owl off with jam
But he just flew away and would not go.

I told him owls don’t each cheese
They patrol the night skies
Oh in that case I will cancel cheese
And on the day run I will have some pies.

Funny owl I thought he is up to something
Trying to ram pies down my throat.
It is a good job he is not meeting the pussycat
And going off in a pea green boat!

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.

APPLE BLOSSOM

This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.