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!

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.

It was like watching a butterfly change colour
to match the landscape; rather fetching I thought
Until the poppy bowed its head to avoid fire
in a red lawned field where the heroes fought.
The noise, the flashes and sparks were obvious
a new threat for the red scorched flower
dying a death, remembering again at the eleventh hour.
The petals were crinkled, its life an open book
the wind throws its power to the weather vein
The headstones paraded in rows deserve another look
never do we want to see this horror again,

Far away from home
from anywhere
just need my phone
and need to be there
where is everybody?
why am I the only one?
I need somebody
where have you all gone?
Talk to me
please wall, please speak
I know what you see
someone who is weak
Im just alone and afraid
no one that I can call
the difficulties I made
are the worst of all
I hear footsteps in the hall
I hear a cold silent breath
Am I imagining it all
have I faced death?
The ghost of a silent shadow
beams down on my soul
I am buried in a meadow
that was my goal.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Pushing one's luck
a bit too far.
Sitting on a grumpy donkey
wearing a hat with "Kiss me quick"
is a dare too far,
Walking up and down the beach
treading on bottle tops, and rusty blades
The donkey with a false smile, seething
His choppers gleaming grey in the sun
to match his fur, slicked down with chip shop grease
ready to release the youngster like a trick
when his march up and down is done
all for but a few pence, makes him sick.
But his pal with his hat with slogan "Be happy"
and "Happy to oblige" next to are fed up.
Why cant they do what they want to do.
They soldier on through rain and shine.
Giving rides to loving kiddies.
They appreciate a little kiss now and then.
A bite of an apple, their little feet egging them on.
It is the grown ups, with their crowns of hankies
knotted at each corner, their cold tea on the beach.
Huddled behind wind breaks trying to keep warm.
With a tray of sandy sandwiches.  Together with
last week's cheese.  Bring back memories.  A ride.

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.

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.

A dawn chorus of little wrens sitting
on a washing line, whistling into the breeze
a whole line of them just twittering
and the gentle hum of the honey bees.

The smell of freshly mown grass lingers
the intoxicating perfume of the rose
wriggly worms watching the bird singers
the upkeep of the summer garden shows.

The crack of a stem snapping from its main stem
dead-heading tired summer bedding plants
The whack of next doors football landing on them
and a nice cup of sweet tea made in advance.

Half a pound of sweeties, all shades of your choice
Drape a couple of teddy bears around for luck
Light some fragrant candles and relax
You will be surprised how little time it took.
Pour hot melted smooth milk chocolate
into little piles topped with fudge and toffee
find the cream all whipped just waiting ready
and sit right down with a cup of steaming coffee

It is forecast winds cold and blistery
and the leaves have started to blacken
I have to be careful where I trudge
stepping over crisp, dry bracken.

The twigs cling onto their rosy berries
as the wind rushes past uncaring
the scarecrow's face tells it all
the evidence is what he is wearing.

The clouds part giving way to a sky that's purple
dappled here and there with a bit of blue
It rains on scarecrows more often than not
and the buzzard has a bird's eye view.

A cottage portrays windows hot with orange
a roaring fire with apple logs is aglow
Outside the weather is turning one degree under
and the sky has filled with fluffy snow.

The scarecrow winces and shuts his eyes
ready for the blast from the icy white
But the buzzard comforts him in his own way
and reassures him that it will be just one night.

Majestically he strode towards the pond
waddling away as if nothing cared
Dreaming of what life's like beyond
going to pastures new if he even dared.

The emerald ring around his neck line
matched one or two feathers in his tail
Cerise and ruby like a fine red wine
were there letting others know he's male.

The female of the species is rather dull
her brown feathers not so appealing
Even the best bits around her skull
didn't approve the way she was feeling.

But the green male knew he was the top
the right colour, the right attitude
he knows which button makes his bus stop
he always has plenty of gratitude.

The buttons he presses pleases his mate
swimming around her admiring her place
the day he met her well, he knew it was fate
he fell in love with her cute ducky face.

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

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.

Go Dancing

“I’m doing the funky chicken”
Said a breathless ageing Duck.
The Pig was as white as snow
He was dumbstruck.
Feathers were flying everywhere
As the Duck felt the beat.
The Pig could not move his eyes
From the Duck’s unbelievable feet.
He was staring intently
He was now in a trance
He had not one clue
That the Duck could dance.
The Duck put up his wing
And had said to give him five.
He was well in with the groove
Spinning and now to jive.
But the Pig wasn’t agile enough
His trotters had now forgot.
They’d refused to move
Let alone tackle the fox trot.
But with practice
Maybe then he would improve.
Maybe!

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 is something beautiful
That appears every single night
The hour of the pearl begins
When we turn off the light.
It is the silvery disc shining down
A loyal satellite in our skies
Stare at it too much
You’ll have spots before your eyes.
Can we see a face?
Is it the man in the moon?
Like it is depicted
In a children’s television cartoon.
Is it a big slice of cheese?
Just suspended in outer space
With little mice in spacesuits
In their little hiding place.
Or is it a big jewel
Twinkling in a huge golden crown
Fit for only those with enough money
And a super sized ball gown.
Will there be trips to walk amongst the dust?
That has not moved since beginning of time
With your new moon boots and suits
New craters to discover, new hills to climb.
Will we have rockets ready in a launch pad?
Just sitting waiting for mission control
Next door neighbours blasting off like no tomorrow
Exploring the old black hole.
Will there be holiday companies
Will there be hotels by the million
But all with the same old view
A super nova to look at occasionally
From a helmet you can just about see through.
No special menu, no specially cooked meals
Just tablets of dried up pieces of dust
Made from chemicals designed to taste like
Best steak and mushrooms in a cheese pie crust.
No drinks from the bar, no happy hour
Just controlled vapour from a tube
Whizzing down one’s throat.
Complete with an artificial ice cube.
Do you really want of all this?
It could really all come all too soon.
But between you and me, I would rather
Just enjoy the beauty of the old moon.

Life is a funny old thing
but for each of us there is an end.
But on Monday, alas, we say
farewell to a dear old friend.

He was a lovely man, honourable
and loved by so many, young and old
He had time for everyone all over
and had a huge heart of solid gold.

He was a leader, a well respected man
someone anyone could talk to with ease
But now he is a butterfly, he is the sunshine
and he is every new leaf on the trees.

He will look down from Heaven, with a smile
he knows and hears each and every good wish
but for each of us left behind, there is sadness
in our hearts, for Geoff it is you that we will miss.

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.

Oooohhh, it is in my mouth
the silky hidden pure treasure
Velvet trickles down my throat
it is an ultimate pleasure.
Brow, milky and smooth
Like  chocolate river.
Perish the thought
My secret stream of gold
I was thinking I ought
before it gets too cold
to buy chocolate.

The small dog
wore a big wig
What does he care
To him it's just hair.
You cant dispute
He's as bald as a newt
But he looks vaguely cute
That's why folk stare.
They're envious that's what it is.
Green with envy.

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.

It is hard not to interrupt when you are engrossed.

WE ARE OFF TO THE MOON
Have you booked your holidays yet?
Because we are off to the moon.
Mum found a very good deal at the shop
And we blast off Tuesday afternoon.
Dad’ll be shocked when we tell him
I wonder just what he’ll say/
We have some organising to do
And Mum will have to go and pay.
Dad’ll freak when he knows the cost
He will have one massive fit.
Mum said she will tell him gently
So perhaps he will come round a bit.
When he found out he went a bit mad
Shouting that we all cannot go there.
Searching in his wardrobe
Explaining that he had nothing to wear.
Mum said it was too late, it had been paid
We are all going to the moon
Nothing can be done about it now
And we blast off Tuesday afternoon.

Water gushes, Mother Nature at her worst
Causing crevices to split and the banks to burst.
Sand bags pile high forming temporary barricades.
Putting pressure on them as the water cascades.
A sparkling foam pushes to the liquid surface
Rendering absolutely no breathing space.
Fish confused, dazed and bemused
Battered and slightly bruised.
Swim furiously against the strength of the swell
Questioning their one and only brain cell.
But answers don’t come that easily somehow
A split second decision should be on the cards now.
Mother Nature has pulled out the joker card
And is pitching for the mighty ace of spades.
Cruel and twisted as ever as the water cascades.

Owning its space, living amongst freedom
Diving deep into a field of gold
Touching the fluffiness of the cloud
Keeping its beady eyes peeled.
The flight of an eagle,
Swooping, catching a mouse
The King of the birds of prey
Its path revealed.

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.

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

Pink fluff that melts in your mouth
and dodgems that whizz round and round.
Helter skelters spinning straight
to the dizzy ground.
Ghost trains with scary hands touching
your shoulder when you go through.
The man shouts "hook a duck chance to win
just hook the ones painted in blue.
Red is a no-win so leave them be."
The smell of roasting onions turning sweet
in the old oily pan
Crispy skins cling to hot potatoes
Big meaty sausages lined up in a row.
Huge split buns hot from the oven
ready for cold bones and icy hands.
The tent in the corner
with "cross my palm with silver"
Making dreams come true
Revealing one's hidden secret
The louder you scream the faster you go
or is the other way around?
Children with huge smiles on shiny faces
having fun and laughter at the fair ground.

You are my ink
In my fountain pen
Organising my life
Back together again.
I am the paper
On which you write
Clicking on spell check
To see you have it right.
My life seems perfect
I notice your ink has gone
I have no more paper
So it’s back to square one

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.

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.

Love is a Beautiful Thing

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

Colours merge into one
Then shoot off into the sky
Azures, raspberry and cherry clouds
mind their business floating by.
There does not seem to be a *** of gold
Or treasure or anything else for that matter
Just leaves gathered neatly in a pile
with no inclination to scatter.
Just stillness, a calm, a sense of well being
Even the river running alongside has a gentle flow.
No raindrop dripping on my head, no sun to shine
just peace and quiet at the foot of the rainbow.