A rabbit taps my foot
with his paw as white as snow
He has a smile on his little face
and soon it will be Easter.

A can smell the aroma of chocolate
Melting in the midday sun
A hunt for eggs appears to be under way
and soon it will be Easter.

The fragrance rich spice lingers
Orange peel, raisins and vanilla.
Jelly beans of all flavours are promised
and soon it will be Easter.

Little yellow fluffy things with wings
crack their way clear with a sharp beak.
Lambs spring into action on cue
and soon it will be Easter.

The baker up to his elbows in yeast
Hot Cross Buns and Simnel cake are made
Marzipan, golden sweet adorn the top
and soon it will be Easter.

There is a green hill far away
is etched upon the good shelves of my mind
and the Beatles singing "I wanna hold your hand"
and soon it will be Easter.

Chocolate eggs, good spirits, kindness and love
Learn to love not hate, give not take
Put your hands around those you adore
Keep them there, this Easter show you care.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Stepping out into this wide world
a world of unpredictability
of promise, of sadness, of hope.
The innocent will step gingerly
towards the unseen slippery *****.
But they manage somehow,
they slide but recover just the same.
They will right themselves like we all do
innocence is a funny old game.

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!

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.

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.

There is a bird on the roof
and it is trying to squeak
it's having a bit of a job
beacuse it has glue on its beak.
Its feathers are caked
together and in a knot
I'd like to say old bird
you're in a bit of a spot.
"How did you manage to
get covered in glue I said"
It must have flew over thinking
the white stuff was bread.
He landed and too late
met with his fate
if I were that little bird
I'd clean up before it's too late!
He'd be stuck together
never to fly again
Just a solid feather ball
and that would be a pain.

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.

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.

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.

It is hard not to interrupt when you are engrossed.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

I have to tell you about a musical mouse
he lives here with me in my house
he taps his feet
to the beat
and perform the waltz to the composer strauss.

Horse manure shovelled around a delicate rose
Now what is that all about and why?
I think possibly the plant holds its breath
and starts to moan and then cry.
That is a nice pleasant smell!
Do you think the rose thinks that?
We all know its the goodness it'll absorb
and not just like a smelly doormat.
But later when the blooms are large
Who is the one getting the credit then?
Back the horse up with a smile on its face
Lift up the tail and shout "when".
Out plops the steaming stuff on target
just right where the plant grows.
The gardener with hope in his heart
Strength in his arms and a peg on his nose!

Ring the bell for he was happy
Wear white they said to be pure
The bell now has no ding a ling
and i am waiting for a cure
Fetch the car to make him smile
wear gold horseshoe they said
The car was crushed years ago
and she is waiting for her bed
Strike the post with an iron fist
it missedm and hit me instead
he does not care any longer you see
and what was there is now dead.

"It's like an oven in there"
The cake would say.
The trouble I have had today.
Blasting heat, smashing my tin
Which the goo is sitting in.
Tapping to see if I have got
A soggy bottom. If you please.
If I had, I certainly would not
Broadcast it.  Keep it clean.
Scraping the bowl,  oh I would love to do that.
Fingers and spoon to lick
Magic box of tricks
That cake mix.
No one has touched me
Not been anywhere near me.
Not even a try
I wonder why.

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.

Waste is such an ugly word
yet we all have waste.
In the form of excess baggage,
too much food and desire.
The wanting to keep
the need for more.
The harvest that you reap
is booted out of the door.
But we must save,
Save is such a lovely word.
Save our planet, save our thoughts.
Help those that are in need.
Dont waste, but save and keep
There are hungry mouths to feed
Save the harvest that you reap.

The anticipation, the excitement, the passion
Heart pounding like it's going out of fashion

The magic,  the memories it will bring
White dress, white pearls, golden ring.

Choirs, flower girls with a youthful smile
Archways to walk under and pose for awhile

Growing old together, till death do they part
Still the first kiss as an effect on the old heart

It still beats with a passion, but a slower pace
and the lips taste the same from the same face

The feelings, the vows that they kept are still the same
It is the look of love, the taste that ignites the flame.

The first kiss was recorded on the oak tree in the park
where they both shall lie eternally when it gets dark

Always together, forever that was written in stone
Hand in hand they lie and they will never lie alone.

A Touch of Love

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.