Lies are trapped
trapped in a spiral of untruth
If your daddy hears you talk that
he may just hit the roof.
Up he goes, like a puff of smoke
grey and angry fit to rage.
Best destroy all lies and turn a leaf
start a brand new page.
You dont want your daddy to explode
shooting adverbs right, left and centre.
There dont you feel a sigh of relief
dont things seem slightly better.
I believe they will and do.

PINK FARM TURNS TO RED
Pink eggs from red hens
Tails all cute and dandy
Pink bacon from pink pigs
Sweet as sugar candy.
Pink lamb from red sheep
Ready for a woollen sweater
Red face on a blue farmer
Getting the dreaded red letter.
No more farm, no more pink meat
Red wine now crushed with stained feet.
Land sold to make some gold
Now making champagne sold as old
Pink goes from blue to rich red
and the owner now sleeps well in his bed

There he sits
at the back behind the books
The forgotten elf
on the forgotten shelf.
He has a thimble for a table
a button for his chair
A pair of spectacles
to read high words in the air.
An open book with huge words
A closed chapter in his world.
He was educated a hundred years ago
by a forgotten tutor he does not know.
But now he shows little care
He is able and he just sits there.

There are some rules to adhere to when painting a face
Study the personality and then stare into space.

Only draw what you actually see not what you think you see
Shake your arm and let those stiff bones wriggle free.

Now start at the windows to the soul, the precious eyes
think carefully of the shape, reflected light, the element of surprise.

Then follow the shadows carefully down as she goes
detailing slowly the outline of the structure of the nose.

Not too much detail at this stage carrying on further south
till you reach the delicate contours of the mouth.

Remember everyone has not got the perfect eclipse
just lightly shade in the shadow and movement of the lips.

Carefully leaving a gap to reveal beneath
the white of the paper for the perfect shining teeth.

Picking up more carbon from your pencil and begin
by shading the areas just below the chin.

These techniques dont come easily it does take years
especially when it comes to sketching the ***** and folds of the ears

Now finally when you think you are nearly there
bring the pencil to the top of the face and lightly sketch the hair.

Blue

Bluebells and forget me nots
That summer dress with big white spots.
My mood after a really sad play
The smell of the sea on a rainy day.
My ink on a romantic card
Pebble dashed shells crumpled and hard.
Blue eggs from rather dashing hens
The unforgettable blue biro pens.
Blue films not for the feint hearted
Shiny blue butterflies for the departed.
Why do blue sweets taste the best
Obviously because they are better than the rest.
Blue oh I love blue skies
and most of all I adore blue eyes

A diamond sparkled in the night
In daylight hours it shone too bright
It twinkled, it dazzled
it shone, it bedazzled
Something of a rare unusual sight.

That was until it fell down a drain
Whereupon it was never seen again.
Replaced it with plastic
dangling from elastic
Instead of an expensive gold chain.

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.

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.

I drift
here and there
Without notice
no fare.
I float
like a butterfly
without notice
don't ask why.
My very being is filled
with nothing, I know nothing
I am strong willed
I act upon the something.
I can fill up with tears
they rain on your soul
Tear drops, rain drops
they are all the same to me.
I can fill your day with fears
my shade gives it away
will it pour will it drizzle
Chances are I know not.
I drift lazily, floating, caressing
kissing stars, dodging hail
When I am hot and humid
I disappear, then I've got mail
I dispense where I like, just let it go
sometimes it is fog, mist or the
other extreme which is snow.
I adore my mist, it has the air
of mystery about it.
I wrap my cloak around the tree
and drape my blanket of fog
the cyclist cannot see
The dense, the white, the smog
it gets to me,  I withdraw
I am powerful, I know I'm blind
I came and I saw
me.

His heart beat to the sound of a distant drum
Marching and beating constantly so it seemed
Rhythmic like the guitar on which you strum
Little did anyone imagine this or could have dreamed.
The music stopped, the blood failed to rush
Relationships with the old heart ceased
The ears could her every kind of hush
And all that was called was the Priest.
Life flashed before the congregation's eyes
It seemed as though he was back for a while
The music drowned everyone's cries
He marched with angels long the golden mile.

I awake to a sound
A soft gentle breeze
Sweeps across my face.
A feeling I found
Memorable.
The music reminds me
A gentle reminder
Of something special
Of what I used to be
Memorable.
A clock ticks silently
The rhythm stirs my heart
Beating my soul
Quietly.
Memorable.
I hear children playing
far, far away.
Memorable.
I hear someone whispering
"I love you".
I remember the day
when I wore white
Memorable.
I recall Spanish nights
My skirt too tight, too high
But I loved it.
Memorable.
My dad looks at me with
love in his eyes
he is now wrinkly
weathered and wise
and he cries
late at night.
A sunset drapes itself across
ruby speckled skies
Memorable. All memorable.

She was indeed an Angel
and she had wings
She brought good to all
and always did nice things.

Kicking the dust off my shoes
As I strolled towards my front door
Less for me to do I thought
As I had already cleaned my floor.
The front door needed painting
I had some spare paint in the shed
Nobody would miss my house
If I did the door in a nice bright red.
And the windows need replacing
The frames look shabby and worn
The paint on them seems to be peeling
They were on the house before I was born.
And while I am at it I’ll replace the mat
It has certainly seen much better days.
All these jobs don’t come for free you know
But Keeping on top definitely pays.
The letterbox keeps sticking too, I’ll see to that
The postman will be pleased with me
After all these jobs today I will be fast asleep
Oh I seem to have mislaid my key!

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.

We have tears.
Tears for the death of Robin Williams
A legend, a star that shone so bright.
May you always shine Robin in your Heaven.

Now this tiny fairy wanted a garden
a garden where she was the chief
she would be in charge of colours of flowers
and she decided the size of each and every leaf.
She had to choose when each bud was to flower
and how much sunshine each plant was allowed.
She sheltered delicate plants from the heavy rain
and kept an eye on each and every cloud.
She would stand under a mushroom
it was a choice of whether or not to get wet
she would poke her tiny finger in the ground
at that point it was perfect for a seed to be set.
Today is her birthday, and she is the grand age of seven
she wanted a fairy garden she told me
This little cousin of mine was sent from Heaven
She is an angel, has wings, it is plain to see.
She is a thoughtful little girl, a fairy, beautiful, so bright
she is the apple of her daddy's eye
Happy birthday Lilli, an angel in pink glorious light
Spread your wings Lilli and one day you will fly high.

Written for my beautiful little cousin who is seven today.
She is so lovely, have a lovely day Lilli.

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.

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.

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

He removes his coat
and spreads it over a puddle
of rain water.
She fairy steps gently
in a lady like way.
He smiles at her twinkling eyes
She adores his dimples in his cheeks
Like the flesh of a peach; adorable.
She giggles her hips wriggle as he
lifts her the final bit of coat.
Her heart is floating in happiness
Her blood is racing through
colourful veins, back to a happy heart
There is no rainbow, no sorrow, no tears
no shadows, no worries and no fears
But there are dreams, hopefulness, joy
and laughter and clapping of hands
and there is a twinkle, and there is above
everything else one single thing, tenderness.

It is
a
Wonderful Place
If you close your eyes
Inside your mind
You capture your prize
No telling what you’ll find.
There is a magical land
Just waiting to be explored
Available on demand
A guarantee you wont be bored.
Maybe inside your dreams
There are castles and moats
Strawberries and creams
Yachts and sailing boats.
Caves with orchestras to observe
Listen and relax and drift away.
Maybe a beautiful nature reserve
To watch lion cubs at play.
Maybe there are chocolate waterfalls
And the rocks are made of fudge
A tree where a kingfisher calls
Or where nobody can criticise or judge.
In your mind are flowers made of silk
And last forever and ever
The cows produce flavoured milk
Cold with ice for whoever and whenever.
You can visit these things anytime
Just close your eyes and you are there
No rivers to cross, no hills to climb
No parking ticket required , no taxi fare.
It is a free service, provided just for you
Just close your eyes, enjoy what you see
See your fields of green, your skies of blue
Your rivers of chocolate and a butterfly tree.

The Fairy of the roe petal perfume
Knew when the flowers hit full bloom
The petals did drop
and they could  not stop
as she frantically swept with her broom.

She knew instinctively and could tell
by the colour and the attractive smell
All home grown
and a lovely tone
exactly the right time to sell.

The Fairies searched their stash
They knew at once they mush dash
They did not care about price
they wanted to smell  nice
and out splashed their cash.

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.

A quote from an unknown person.
"We learn something from everyone who passes through our lives.
Some lessons are painful, some are painless, but all are priceless.

Reasons to be thankful.
Determined to care.
I am grateful
so pleased you are there.
Because if you weren't
I do not know what I would do.
Reasons to be thankful
and that is why I love you.

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.

You have had a chance
I have laid it on the line
I am rather fed up of you
saying things are fine.
You sit there in the cage
surrounded by bars
You might just as well
be on the planet Mars.
You do nothing but chirp
and stare in the mirror all day
are you under the impression
love has come your way?
Because it is you you silly bird
your reflection, you're on your own
Or do you wish to take 50-50
or contact a bird by phone.
It is not rocket science
it is you you are staring at
you have a very little brain
and you cant really help that.
I get frustrated
just seeing you stare
kissing the mirror fondly
as if another bird's there.
I will put my shoes on I think
and head down to the shop.
buy this silly bird a mate
before it is me that will drop.
But I think it is too little, too late
my feather clad blue friend
For when I returned from the shops
the poor bird had met his end.

Santa thought he’d repair his damaged sleigh.
He was exhaused on this special day
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.

When I think of the colour pink I dream
Dream of sugar spinning to loud music at the fair.
Pink dresses with tiny pink socks on babies
with vivid blue eyes and golden blond hair.
WhenI think of blue I think of sand, pebbles and castles
made from dry, hot sand with a blue sky draping overhead.
The blue in our flag, standing proud over the palace
The stitching on my blanket around my bed.
When I think of yellow,oh I dream of lands far away
tropical beetles, butterflies and giant leaves.
Shores made from ice cream and cherries,
stuff that actually nobody believes.
When I see lilac and lavender it reminds me of peacocks
parading their anger with  beauty for all to admire.
Ribbons at Christmas draping the fireplace
and waving to the heat and glow of the open fire.
What do you see?

They had found paradise
Washed to the shore
Nothing else left to do
But walk, discover and explore.
Combing the white sand
Looking for treasure,
Something to devour
Mainly for pleasure.
No traffic here, no crime
No highway patrol
Nature has everything
Under strict control.
Driftwood, old tin trays
Dotted here and sometimes there
Brain not gone into melt down yet
Cells still under repair
No panic sets in, the loneliness
Has not hit hard
Still best to keep wits about
To keep on one’s guard.
Shells galore, with a no vacancy sign
Pinned to the outside
Better make early tracks
For the swelling of the tide.
Find some shelter, find food
Find warmth, make a fire
My skin erupts with panic
And starts to perspire.
My feet are being ripped to shreds
With sharp shells and flint
Somehow, to my amazement
That has given me a hint.
Never been in a situation like this
Can’t even go and ask a friend next door
Just look to sea and the sand
And if anything is coming to ashore.

Holding a new born baby
Close in your warm strong arms
Baby food dripping down your shoulder
And the constant ringing of sleep alarms.
A joy to behold.
Walking the dog in the dead of night
It alerted you at two in the morning.
Waiting at bedroom door with lead
No fuss just a wet sloppy warning.
A joy to behold.
You just sit down with an evening meal
After a hard day’s work – the ‘phone rings
A sales talk on something you do not want
Slam the receiver down, and then say nice things.
A joy to behold.
Stuck in traffic when you are in a rush
All you want to do is get there and back.
You know something is going to happen
The chap behind you didn’t see you – whack!!!
A joy to behold.
You fetch your loved one from the supermarket
With a thousand bags for you to carry.
She has spent all your wages in a flash
And you wonder about the girl you did marry.
A joy to behold.
Watching your garden turn to weeds
After a heavy fall of the never ending rain.
Pulling them out with roots the size of parsnips
Your back aching, pulled a muscle once again.
A joy to behold. True a joy to behold.

Home made, completely all home made
I bet you cannot tell.
The label tells it all that I have designed
and looks good enough to sell.

I started tinkering around with ideas
what can I produce from my vine?
I  can grow all sorts you know so I
will see what I can make into wine.

I have fruit in all colours and every shape
to the delicate little ruby cherry
to to most sophisticated shiny grape
and every possible home grown berry.

I have trees laden with the rich sweet
bouncy good old English plums
to the good old fashioned stone in the middle
dark red and sometimes purple damsons.

I can get my hands on nectarines, peaches
apricots galore, apricots and sweet peas
Of course Mother Nature is responsible not me
and of course the clever little bumble bees.

Well they all get mashed up
and placed in my home made vat
the aroma spreads for miles
led by next doors nosy cat.

The time you leave it matters a good deal
I like to leave the wine a good length of time
Then you know you have a decent brew
and produce quite a cheeky little wine.

Of course if you want the sparkle
it is not that much work or trouble
Want a fizz to blow the cork sky high
Make you see double with the bubble?

Add extra yeast or at least that's what I do
oh yes you are left with quite a fantastic beast
spread it on toast and float on the surface
looks disgusting and it will be a frothy yeast.

But whatever the weather whatever the tide
you are sure to have sometime to decant
Whether it will make the neighbours talk
you have produced something significant.

Pour them a drop of the old plonk
bottoms up, see you soon and good old cheers
Its fantastic this home made brewing idea
the best home made brew in years.

Once upon a time
"When was that then?"
For the purpose of this rhyme
it was perhaps ten past ten.
Look at the silly time
see how the hands ****
is that a perfect crime?
Perfect for a quiz!
Who is wrong?
Who is right?
Are they strong?
Are they bright?
This "time" that's under question
Who has the final say?
Is it too soon to mention?
Have I got the right day?
Now the stars have appeared
and the moon likes it
Why has it disappeared
has it quit?
It is all mumbo jumbo
now is that a crime?
It happened long ago
When it was time!

I looked at my hair
and I had grey roots again.
Snow had returned to my roof
and was driving me insane.
My face was beginning to look
just like a freshly ploughed field
and looking like an orange
that had just been peeled.
The general trend of old
was beginning to get me down
and I was wearing my smile
absolutely upside down.
My frock was covering my knees
instead of the daring sort of look
I think I need a makeover
I fumbled at the fashion book.
It is no good I dont know where to start
which page to turn to for the best
I looked down at my clothes and sighed
I certainly was not the best dressed.
And look at the state of my nails
they look like an old pair of claws
I hunted for files and polish
but could find nothing in my drawers.
I an having a mid life crisis, I want to be young
To feel freedom and youth one more time in my head
But that is not going to happen is it!
I have to make do with what I am and have instead.

My dreams are like bitter lemons
splashed with a drop of best gin
My hopes are a bit like fresh cream
with big succulent strawberries dipped in.
My outlook is divine like a strong, ripe cheese
with a ruby port by the side, plenty of it
so that your body relaxes down to the knees.
My plans are like pancakes, filled with cherries
A rich chocolate sauce running through the fruit
Plans dripping with velvet skins collecting
cherry juice and mingling with my suit.
The schedule for today has gone out of the window
because I am too busy eating violet creams
pansies dipped in caramel are just the ticket
especially when you have my sort of dreams.

My body does not come with a pie chart
Sectioned off, colour coded
To tear away each living day my heart
It comes with love, it is pre-loaded.

I come as a package, filled with care
A little piece for love, you know what that is.
Carried along on a wing and a prayer
And a big soft gentle kiss.

My heart, my soul and all that I possess
My body included in the price
But a very expensive one nonetheless
Because I am human not a mechanical device.

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.

Approaching May
As the time on this planet marches
Full steam ahead towards May
We should look around us
Appreciate what we have today,
The robin singing on the post
With his famous red jacket
Like a postman whistling
Posting his brown packet.
Then there is the rain
The usual April showers
Pouring down, brollys out
It goes on for hours.
Then we have the buds
Of our bluebells
Nature’s way of casting
Magical spells.
Enchanting our woods
With stars of blue and white
Oh to be in England in April
What a wonderful sight.

Like a wisp of the wind
Silently she treads
Delicately like a snail
Leaving its silky threads
On a winding trail
Scars from a battle
She fought years gone by
Hiding behind red socks
Pulled up tight and high
There is blood on the rocks
Snatched from her oul
A gentle reminder
Of the trail and the thread
And of her stockings
As so silently she treads.

The clouds formed a swirl
made with nothing more than fluff
angel's hair and little fairy things
and that in itself was enough.
Daisy chains could be seen
amongst clover heavy in pink
with buttercups scattered on the green
with camomile tea inside to drink.
Damdelions made into a stew
orange petals float on top sailing
pretty petals and there are a few
with delicate ivy just trailing.

Bobbing about bringing happiness everywhere
in the land of hope and glory that is me
Why not, the dreams I have are mine if I dare
for I am so happy and wonderfully carefree.

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 he had any 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.

Across The Sand
He could see the pain in her eyes
As he carried her towards the palm
He looked straight into her soul
And she felt safe away from harm.
He placed her gently on the sand
Loosening his grip from her hips
He had thought how beautiful
And kissed her on the lips.
She smiled and begged him to stay
He sat down and stayed for just a while
Her lashes fluttered like a butterfly
And she fell in love with his smile.
She felt warmth which drowned the pain
Her fingers caressing the grains of sand
He put his strong arms around her shoulder
And she gently squeezed his hand.
Love was reunited, and a dream begun
They began to plan their new life
He then stood up and fell to one knee
And asked her to become his wife.
He caught a tear rolling down her face
Waiting eagerly for the reply.
She looked at him with her pale blue eyes
And thought “how lucky am I”.
She agreed to marry him
And placed a kiss on the  back of his hand.
She fell lovingly into his arms
As he carried her away across the sand,