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.

"He talks too much
All day and every day"
He said to her.
"Got more teeth than most
much better than mine"
She said to him.
"Do you think he will stay"
He said to her.
"If he does it will cost"
She said to him.
"To what degree, that's the part
He said to her.
"It's the first bite out of the jam ****"
She smiled at him.

Can anyone I wonder guess the age
of the Parrot reading a book in the cage.
Of course, he's been told
he does not look that old
Or rather that's what he read on the page.

It is like walking in a mist
an opaque vision is to fear
lost in a fog in your mind
but will things become clear.
Come to a junction in a road
choices are left or right
no straight road is ahead
the decison becomes tight.
stressful, lost in a way unknown
no satellite navigation found
no internet for your mobile phone
there is emptiness all around.
Even the sun does not appear
at least you'd fathom east or west
instead you walk in a dense mist
and all that ou do is your best.

HOUR OF THE PEARL
Bluebells droop sleepily
Tired in a pine scented wood
Lemons drip casually
In the groves the best they could.
Orange leaves dance in the breeze
Jigging to the buzz of the bee.
Lapping up the early morning sun
Limes threaten to ripen
Withered branches from the olive
Twisting, turning and entwining.
Almonds spring from everywhere
Grapes glisten, turning sweet
Packed into the vine/
Mellowing, yellowing
To become famous wine.
Sun bakes the land and the bread
Has a secret promise with a sugar top.
Chickens are fed from left overs.
The hour of the pearl, the interval
Between day and night
When time stands still examines itself
And turn to dark, the moon clicks
Clouds stick.
and time moves on.

We count the hours that steadily pass
To say we have time on our hands
Observe the trickling hourglass
Seconds replace falling sands

Sand slides ad progressively rolls,
Rolling away, hours pouring
Time for sleep when the bed calls
Time skips without our knowing.

Time speeds up during the day
No time to meet with demands
Need more time I heard you say
I need more time on my hands.

There is good in each
And everyone of us.
A beauty that runs deep.
You are the harvest
That you reap.
The seeds that you sow
Will one day surely
Take root and grow.
Look into your soul
There is a beautiful person
And that is you.

Day dreaming on a cliff face
Full of nests and white mess from a bird’s rear
Slimy disgusting mess all 0ver the place
Hanging by fingertips and everything to fear.
An Eagle eyes me up with glee in his eye.
Rich pickings, eyes bigger than his belly.
He is in for a shock I have to say.
Have seen these programmes on the telly.
Talk to it like it can understand.
It thinking you have lost your marbles now
It looks down at the farmer’s field and then
Wonders if humans are dafter than the cow!

The sun in all its glory
The huge warm setting sun
Rather like a rich iced
Sticky fruity bun.
Everyone likes them.
When the day is done
And heard all and seen all
The sun waves its arms
Enough is enough and
It goes to bed.
It might as well turn red
And cook the other side.
Our sunset is someone’s sunrise
When clouds gather in a corner
In the skies, in disguise
No surprise.
Do not observe conserve
The eyes for later use
When there are no spots
Nothing blots out the rays
There is no shade
Displayed or portrayed
The setting of the sun
When a day is over and done
And the flip side a new one begun.
Yesterday’s leaves
One believes
Cracked under pressure
When no measure was taken
For water which ought to have been done
By the setting of the sun
Waves in transit from messages
From the moon to move room to room
Coast to coast, pebble by pebble
Sand by sand
Hold my hand; notice the sun
The parched lines on my hand
Match the vein on the leaves
The skin grieves for moisture
The sun believes
The Pearl King the oyster
Relieves
The sad setting of the sun
When tears cry salt
It is not your fault
But mine , no crime committed.
Just sit and watch the goodbye.

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 any time
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.

Maybe it is alright
The man said it
He referred to me
as "little darling"
Perhaps it is all ok
When everything's done
because little darling to
quote "here comes the sun".
horray, horray it has it's hat on
The sun is wearing a hat?
yes and it is hip hip horray
Does that mean everything's ok
Well apparently he is coming today
and yes you guessed, he's coming to play.
Well hip hip horray then.

Days come and they go
The sands in the hourglass forever fall
Little things pass and stand the time
Some things in life do not matter at all.
But when it comes to life, the loss of it
well that is a different kettle of fish
and it hurts when their lives didn't stand a chance
we can all forever dream and expect a different wish
These lives were children, little children
with all the innocence of the young
They should be growing and doing what we can
Now a different sort of hymn from the  book is sung.
How can this be, why should this be,  why?
Why choose the innocent in life we just do not know
now each day sorrow and sadness passes us by.
Perhaps a thought should enter their heads
when the evil is about to strike question why
maybe these three little letters can dig home deep
maybe if they did,  people would not have to die.
Let there be no more hurt, let there be no more tears
No more.  Ask yourself why. There can be a change in ways
And we can learn to smile,  we can think about hope and peace
maybe time will pass through our tears and bring better days.

Open up a box of tricks
and what will you discover
a dice with a double six?
or a new friend or lover?
Love comes in many forms
sometimes it waits and it will wait.
Sometimes it seems like it's forever
but surely that is never too late?
Waiting is the best part
never knowing when love knocks at the door
never knowing when the phone will ring
Waiting is the best part not such a bore.
Patience is a virtue my friend, so it says
Then love comes from out of the blue
Seeking love in return from a perfect stranger
All your feelings from the sleeve are now on view.
The heart on the sleeve beats in tune
The whistle in your stomach plays to the beat
the knees are knocking in time that is good
and you dont know what is going on with the feet
Hands are shaking, they comb the hair
You find yourself flirting, doves are flying above
You cant think straight, something has gone wrong
No nothing is amiss, that is the sound of love.

I inhale
I exhale
Sometimes I win
Very often I fail.
On one’s own
All alone
Frustrating
A huge stepping stone.
For me to climb
The clock starts to chime
Seconds falling
Losing time.
I am on a chart
Back to the start
Losing beats
From a broken heart.
My muddled mind
Thoughts left behind
Memories
Are hard to find.

She had red hair
like the glowing embers of a fire
Skin like soft peaches in June
I had no care or desire
to ever burst her bubble or balloon.
She was quiet
like a whisper in the dark
she was a colourful rainbow on a rainy day
she was perfect that is a I can say
she s my grandmother
she is my rainbow on my darkest day.

Rudolph is prompt and it is a quarter past eight
He is in a panic thinking that Santa will be late
You'd think with all the elves he employs
they would be on the ball with the toys
he then hears Santa whistling and panting
under his own breath he is stressing and ranting
then through the valley vale and fells
hark it is the sound of the sleigh bells
at long last Santa is definitely on his way
Rudolph and his team pulling the  heavy laden sleigh

Monday - morning rush as usual
I pass someone new on the stairs
Tuesday - something odd is happening
I mention "him" in my prayers.
Wednesday - He is in my soul
thinking about him all night long
Thursday - my feet are skipping
and my heart is full of song.
Friday - I have so much to say
don't know where to begin
Saturday - all that I know that
he is definitely under my skin
Sunday - a chance to go to Church
and thank the Lord above
Monday - morning again and I
know that I have fallen in love.

Held

Held in the moment
Held in the suspension of time
This time was not the moment
He was a victim of crime.
Held in the cell
Held against his will
This time was not his moment
He needs a magical spell.
His wish came true
Held in the dream
It was definitely the moment
Thanks to the defending team.
It was all a mistake
He was held without cause
Well I guess it has to be
No get out clause.

One horse said to the other
"How come you have only one ear"
The horse replied "I don't bother
I can hear you loud and clear"

They were in the last race, the gun went off
The first horse shot off like the bullet did
The other horse just gave a loud cough
crept sideways and in the hedge it hid.

It waited till he heard the hot snorts
and the sound of busy hooves on the track
and then with all the craftiness it supports
he joined the horse race at the back.

The others were tired, thirsty and worn
he was not, he was full of the joys of spring
he made it to the front without even being warm
He was as cool as a cucumber, victory had everything.

"Where did he shoot from and how come he won,
He sprinted from nowhere, in fine form and in top gear"
"Well" said the winning horse, when it is all said and done
there is something to be said for having just one ear"

The aroma of fresh coffee brewing
the taste of rich chocolate on your tongue
freshly baked bread straight from the oven
newly picked rosemary to last all day long
talcum powder sprinkled on a beautiful baby
the splash of the sea on your skin
the salty smell of fresh fish at the market
tobacco ripe fetched from the tin.
rewards to keep, treasures to share
it is fascinating to breathe all these riches
and we thank goodness that we have them there.

The wind blows secrets through the trees
And they parade just past my ear
There are some stories carried by the breeze
But very soon they fade away and then disappear.

Cobwebs flap in the mid afternoon silent wind
Like lacy tablecloths for the fairies and elves
Mushrooms for seats and pebbles for benches
And anything else they can get for themselves.

Secrets and sometimes lies are fed through the wood
The bark on the tree will be the judge in that court
Squirrels gather nuts from deep underground
Secret gatherings if they happen to fall short.

The weather seems fit for a golden promise
Promises are made to be kept not broken.
The wind now a speed fit for a howl and a growl
And other adjectives if they could be spoken.

The rain came
It was expected
Which is a shame
The sun reflected
Out came the sun
with a smile on its face
the show had begun
an image impossible to erase.
Colours of the dreamcoat
shone like an upside down smile
it got my vote
by as much as a mile.
I thought of the *** of gold
and who could I give it to
The air went a tad cold
I realised I was wet through
The rainbow seemed to know
of my thoughts and dreams
I thanked it for the show
and the colourful beams.

Colours of ruby, jasmine and pink
Pour into my window
Touching my soul, stroking my skin
Scorching the cheek of the peach
Warming the bird in the cage.
Bringing happiness within.
Pouring into the shadows
From violet to red.
Rays of sunshine.

Tomorrow, if you are a mum
Put your feet up and rest
Because you are worth it
and you are the best.
To all mums - Happy Mother's Day for tomorrow.

As the butcher writes “sale” with his bit of chalk
Shoppers watch with eyes just like a hawk
They all flew
to the front of the queue
To get their half price "special buy" pork.

There is good in each
And everyone of us.
A beauty that runs deep.
You are the harvest
That you reap.
The seeds that you sow
Will one day surely
Take root and grow.
Look into your soul
There is a beautiful person
And that is you.

Tip toe through the shadows
Dark places with a scream
Squeaks and humming sounds
send a shiver down a spine
Things are not what they seem
In the dark green haunting grounds
where twigs and growth entwine
with the worst nightmare not dreams.
No soft music here just groans
Mum is the word around here.
No creeping in one corridor
where one is supposed to walk
None of that just run, run for your life
from the shadows and the dark.
Mark my words you will want to run.
Sun shining today, I dont think so
Forecast snow. Snow in the dark lanes
Black is the alley, dark like time does not exist
just like cinders in the fire, not glowing either.
Dark like the soot from the old wood charred
and burnt to death.  No condensation, no breath,
no droplets of steam, where life has been.
Just a dark secret.

A street is dusty there is grit on my feet.
Meat hanging about from a left over stew
Bony cats cling to doorsteps
Like furry door mats and there are a few
Keeping the draughts out from the valley
Blowing a disease on bated breath.
A cat dares to hope or so it seems
But with this only bring a painful death.

I walk into a room without thinking why
Why am I questioning myself I haven't a clue
I do silly things without reason, why
It is strange as I really wish I knew.
As I get older the days get shorter
Years turn into months so it seems
The hand on the clock is in denial I believe
Either that or it is in one of my dreams.
My hair has turned white under the radar
The old dye cannot be tricked anymore
Wrinkles fail to iron themselves out
the moisturiser has been shown the door.
The old age thing is creeping on too fast
Questions, forever questioning myself
where has time gone, where do seconds go
is there somewhere, some mysterious shelf.
It is like the shelf in my mind, the blank page
where things get put until the day I die
Then when my life flashes before me
I shall be demanding to know the old "why".

Its train floated like silk along a long winding river
Floating in the direction of a cool breeze.
Lace tapping on her flesh made her shiver
Memories thawing as if from a deep freeze.

Little roses sewn on by hand were on the bodice
Trailing over her shoulder and down her back
The dress made her feel like a godess
Or like a Princess on horseback.

The dress gave her confidence, made her feel brave
Feeling special whenever the dress was worn
But there is a secret which she took to her grave
Nobody knew but the dress was torn.

I go and visit her
But she is not there.
Someday she was
It was a Sunday.
The sun shone
The c;louds disappeared
Now she has gone
But the sun has reappeared.
Sundays are a day of rest
When run-of-the-mill jobs get done
Washing up pots alone and silent
Sundays were meant to be fun.
Someday it will be Sunday again
Who knows when that will be?
This ache inside of me is now a pain
Now she has gone.

As we go through our life,
we record events in our mind.
shelves labelled accordingly
slotted in our brain to find
the next time we care to recall.
There are shelves labelled
"not so good" and these are doubts
which cause anxiety to raise its ugly head.
Thoughts which we could well do without
Re-living events that we all somehow dread.
Then there are the spectacular shelves.
Shelves that bring tears of happiness and joy.
Celebrations of marriage, confetti and then
perhaps the birth of a little girl or a boy.
A son or daughter, a life long treasure.
Then there is things relating to this that
go on this shelf to later bring pleasure.
These shelves are the chapters in our head
Chapters that are worth having another look.
Whether they are good or bad, they are there
Each day has a part to play in your own book..

If there was ever a fairy more confused
then it is this one, wrapped in chains.
The chains are made from daisy petals
which keep her dry when it rains.
and as she as used all of the petals
she is one sort of a funny mess.
What she will do for shelter if it rains
I would say is anyone's guess.
She would not worry her pretty head
about trivial things like that, oh no
She would have fun sitting in a puddle of rain
and just letting herself go.

It was decided they would both go for a drive
To the local farm to visit the beehive.
She was frustrated
The bees were agitated
So they returned at exactly half past

She suddenly let out an awful squeal
He was fed up with the whole ordeal
The bees were behind
Just a touch unkind
And had now surrounded their automobile.

First Aid was what they were needing
As his feet were badly bleeding.
She had lost her squeak
Because they’d stung
As the pig shot off home speeding.

The car had suddenly come to a halt
And they both suffered a sharp jolt
For in the middle of the road
Was a large truck load
Of gleaming white table salt.

The Pig began to lick his lips announcing “my word”
I think that now I’m rather cured!
The Duck found some money
To pay for all the honey
This is all that he could afford.

If ever I got the chance to change the world
I make mountains out of coffee and cream
the rivers would flow with strawberry milk
and there would be fudge in every stream.
Blueberries would hang from trees galore
the trees bearing non stop fruity jam
there would be sacks of oranges everywhere
plenty for every child, woman and man.
Cabbages would line each street
covered with a sauce rich in cheese
creamy mashed potatoes in every doorway
crammed with grilled mushrooms and peas.
Fences made out of bacon and tomato paste
onion gravy on rooftops with fried bread
plenty of food to go around if ever I got my way
and each hungry mouth would be fed.

As it sits alone, salty and dried
on the edge of what I call a trap
is it a trap for fools of course it is
it is common knowledge on the map.
But the mice dont think so
they scamper towards a lovely treat
The little ones hear a loud snap
and they jump before it catches their feet.
But it is their heads that get it, oh dear
they are not wanted not amongst the men
Cheese was their end, their fate
and so for the mice, they move on again.

There was never a time
a time when life was dull
There was never a moment
a moment packed full
full of surprises, to please.
I was never one to reduce to tears
but were they tears of happiness?
Maybe they were, who is to know
it is such a long time ago
when tears of happiness came.
And that in itself is a crying shame.
My hand was always in his
whenever we strolled down the lane
Now it is not quite the same
my hand is deep in my pocket
my pocket full of regrets
those regrets come with worry
but they are buried deep now.
And that worry does not surface.
It will, maybe one day, one day too late.
But there was never a dull moment
no hand on heart not in the pocket
there was never a dull moment.

Terrible.
Utterly terrible.
The cake would say.
The trouble I’ve had in the oven 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 sliding over the goo ooooh.
Magic box of tricks
That cake mix.
No one has touched me
Not been anywhere near me.
Not even a try
I wonder why.

Wish this icy friend of mine would stay awake
I have draped around me a green patchy snake
But when it wriggles
I get the giggles
but then end up with chronic backache!

To me there was never any drawback
it was just simply child's play
looking back down the old track
it was a typical British railway.

It was just brilliant in its heyday
chugging along with a smokestack
through tunnels and the odd archway
I can safely say I never looked back.

All those hard workers on the payroll
leaving memories along the track
spending all day shovelling coal
everything they wore and owned black.

Some days their breath dried and they cried
from the young lad to the station guard
but they all had something called pride
even though their memory's were all scarred.

The whistle could be heard "all aboard"
and off it would go chugging
the steam puffed and the engine roared
regardless of the carriages it was tugging.

Through every village an every vale
it relentlessly ploughed
along each track and each trail
leaving its white fluffy cloud.

Travelling along tootling down
from hill to hill down the track
from coast to each and every town
and I never looked back.

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

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

There was once a young man from York
Who had strange ways of which people did talk
He would heat up his aftershave
in his new microwave
Before shaving with a knife and fork.