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 and 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.

"Come by, come by"  the shepherd calls
To a black and grey dog that's not there.
He's minding his own business
Which to him is all very fair.
A whistle is blown, but on deaf ears
The sheep thinks it is all a scream
They run wildly all over the field
But the dog's done in, out of steam.
"Come on lad, round 'em up for me"
The shepherd's voice is slightly raised
But the dog does not care one little jot
He neither cares or is phased.
The dog starts a sit-in and makes a sign
"Less sheep, more juicy bones"
The sheherd laughs, so do the sheep
The dog sighs and all afternoon moans.
The sheep's wool uncurls, fear looms
Another dog springs an attack
The shepherd has a smile on his face
Watching the first dog creep on back.
The sheep dont know what has hit them
They are rounded up in the blink of an eye
The sheep **** through open gates at speed
and did an immediate left towards the pig's sty.
Textbook!

He Who Counts His Cash

It was morning, a miserable morning
One that was over in a flash
Suddenly without any warning
He decided to count the cash.

This sent him into an instant flap
He fiddled nervously with a saucepan lid
This was definitely some sort of trap
Wondered what the outcome would be if he hid.

“Young man, come here” the Manager shouted
Something appears to be missing.
His crinkled lips was now pouting
And his throat had started hissing.

“He does not trust me” he thought
After all the things I have done for him.
He was frantically hiding the things he had bought
And envisaged the situation looking grim.

A stash of cake and jam, lemon curd and honey
Silver nice things that he liked to buy.
He was not used to handling money
So he had a day practising how to buy.

It is not his fault if he spent the lot
He thought that they had loads more.
The amount he had spent had been forgot
Well his investments were banked offshore.

He did not want to upset his ten year bond
And his thousands were doing very well.
The extra noughts of which he was fond
And his shares he did not want to sell.

He was never aware of his wealth
Obviously did not know about being poor
He never worried about money or health
But alas the Manager was now crying on the floor.

His greed was now not nice
Maybe he should come clean and reveal his stash
His greed had definitely made him pay the price
He offered just five thousand and the rest of his cash.

Lucky escape, lightening reactions
The cat that got the cream.

Love is a precious thing
Hold on to it as much as you can
It definitely makes the old heart sing
I'm its biggest fan.
I dislike confrontations, splitting hairs
I would sooner just keep the peace
Whilst the other is kicking chairs
and his anger is on the increase.
Is it not easier to say "Oh well"
and just leave the situation be
it creates tension, a living hell
which is no good for him or me.
Love is a precious thing
hold on to it as much as you can
enjoy all the benefits it may bring
unless you have another plan.

This is an example of an onion that cried
His emotions having been pent up inside
He had said to his mate
"If I end upon a plate"
"I would rather be boiled than fried.

When you look for love
it is never there.
It hides
you have to find it.
And that is the best bit.
Searching
It is a complicated process.
Your eyes meet.
The hand strokes playfully the hair.
Enticing.
Exciting isn't it.
Then the drum goes off in your soul.
It beats slowly at first.
Then it has a thirst for more
so it quickens.
Then the beats turn to butterflies.
You have imaginary fluttering like wings
stroking your insides.
They are making a confirmation to your brain.
The soul approves.
The eyes flutter copying the wings of the butterfly.
Then the brain goes into overdrive.
And out come the words.
Shoot out.
And there is it the "L" word.
I love you comes out
That was not hard.

There once was a crow called Joe
Who always went with the flow
He was absolutely carefree
just perched in his tree
just taking life nice and slow.

There are times when I could say
"Beam me up" and "take me away"
Send me to another place, not here
Take me to a place where life's queer
Not of this planet, not of the stars
but then would I be on Saturn or Mars.
No I want to be here, where life's tough
where the sand's smooth and rocks rough.
I can take the dark and light
I can manage the day and night
I cant do what they are expecting
No I cant do that.

A thousand fairies were dancing
all through this one particular night.
Hanging moonbeams and ribbons on an Oak Tree
in pretty bows making sure they were tight.

There were white ribbons, pink and blue
all of which were dancing in the breeze.
Fairies everywhere, flitting in and out
dodging the acorns and little lemon leaves.

All but one fairy, who stood rigid and very still
Reflecting on her life for a brief moment
then lost her footing slowly and surely
and then began the roll downhill

She was rolling trapped in a fast spin
collecting buttercups in her hair
finally she came to an sudden halt
she found herself in a lacy, white square.

"Oh what have we here, dreams do come true"
thought the long legged, hairy spider
"And look,  she has flowers in her hair,
she will be known as my buttercup rider".

"She is tiny, oh so frail, the spider was entranced
His heart now was awash with so much love
The Lord has answered my prayer at long last
this is what I have always dreamed of.

My beautiful little friend, and it is so lonely here
trapped in my web of deceit and silence
The fairy now came to with a look of horror
"Oh little one, I do not offer you any offence"

My legs, do not be scared, they are hairy I know
but they can offer you so very much
I can massage you, feed you, and hold your hand
all in one go, I have the sweetest of a loving touch.

I can spin you the very finest silk
and make for you the finest fairy gown
I will gather berries from the forest
and make you the perfect crown.

Because you are my Queen and I am your King
I will bring you everything, we'll never be apart
Do not wince at my rather ugly exterior
for inside of me beats a romantic heart.

I will worship you, everyday you will have fresh flowers
I will bring you sunshine on a rainy day
But the fairy was long gone by now and all she heard
was the lonely scream from the spider "please stay!"

You could swing anything you liked around my space
I'm free to fly like a soaring, free as you like bird.
Oh I have the biggest smile on my pretty little face
This is my life, my space, my time in my own little world.

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.

I wonder if a Goldfish swimming round in his bowl
Thinks “This is familiar, have I been here before?
I seem to be seeing the same things in the same place
As I swim round and round, more and more”.

I wonder what a dog thinks as he smells the dinner
Cooking then it is served piping hot from the pan
Then he gets his solidified in some sort of jelly
Straight out from the same old looking can.

I wonder what a pretty bird thinks held in a cage
Talking to himself then notices he is not alone
A reflection leads him to believe he has a new mate.
Puts his best claw forward tries not to moan.

He looks into the mirror dangling on  a short chain
“Hi, I’m Peter, you can call me Pete I suppose"
And then sits all day watching himself with
A kind of “look at me” type of pose.

I wonder what a newspaper feels as it is
Pelted through a letterbox ten miles per hour
Or does it feel pain around red hot chips
Does the vinegar make the paper sour?

I Wonder if a bird hears a worm wriggling
When he wrenches it from under the ground
Worms aren’t noisy, so how do they do that then
When worms are soft, slimy and don’t make a sound.


I Wonder .........

If you believe in fairy tales and magic
If you believe in wishes then join this queue
For tonight is the night out of many when
Your dreams might possibly come true.

Look into the midnight sky full of stars
It is as if the whole sky has silver freckles
Sparkly moons and planets and beams
Pearly things and salt water speckles.

Hold your breath for a second then close the eyes
For magic is about to happen there’s no dispute.
For stars will **** across the sky a light show
And dreams will start to come true as they shoot.

This is a tribute to a man who puts on a brave face
fetching shopping for himself in the wind and rain.
His name is John, his wife died and he is ninety two
His hard life gives him every reason to complain.

But he does not, he faces each day with a smile
Gritting his teeth, forgetting his tired weak bones
Rubs his knees, the face tells it all, one can see
but he does not whimper and never moans.

He carries on regardless even though he is ninety two
waiting at the eye hospital without a single cup of tea
The appointment is running two hours late in the queue
but he does not mind, he has people he can see.

He is lonely at home his wife dies four years ago
leaving him heart broken, alone but he is no antique
This tribute is real, there are many just like John
John you are strong you are definitely not weak.

If you see a "John" give him your time
go out of your way, step out of your queue
Because one day you will be old yourself
just like John who is alone and ninety two.

"Forever bashing together"
He was referring to his knees
I am a noisy thing that is plain
More disruptive than bees.
He is sad, no doubt about that
He considered a one way ticket
that is until his mouth fell wide open
his eyes spied the future Mrs Cricket.
Wow, his knees beat louder
his eyes were on stalks that is for sure
and the most brilliant piece of news
he is not a sad cricket anymore

May you rest in peace
This world has lost a good man
a kind, true gentleman.
A man who was proud of who he was
and what he had achieved.
There are no words to portray the
sadness that we all feel
May a million silver butterflies
guide your way to eternal peace.
May just one silver butterfly stay
by your side forever an a day.
We bow our heads in sadness Richard
for you will be forever missed.
If I see a silver butterfly,I will call your
name, tears will well in my eye but there will be a
smile -Richard Riddle RIP.

And it is with a heavy laden heart
They laid me beneath the Oak.
Acorns rain down on my soul
After the rain's given them a soak.
Otherwise they'd be like bullets
shot out from the slimline gun
Like me, slimline, rather skinny
just me, bones all that will be done.
My thoughts, taken away for another day
taken far into the promise land
when no man, nothing can touch me
yet hold my damp, bony hand.
Gone are the wishes, what were they?
Dreams secretly held within me for all time.
But now those wishes are trapped in the dust
of my mind but sadly they are all mine.

This golden little fish
had all but one crazy wish
to stop this boring swim
it was getting to him
spinning round and round the dish.

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."
But would that be enough
She looks worried and begins to shake
Nerves get the better of her
She thought about give and take.
That is part of it but it has all gone wrong
He is taking and she is giving.
He has started to sing another song
Could she be forgiving?
Is this the same man?
Where had hers gone?
She has seen another side
Now she wants to run.
But she remembers
to have His faith above
And she finds hope and feels
his desperate touch of love.

Giving in to something is a silly process
an insult to all that I have ever said and done.
But I am here to stay if you will have me
Because I am going to write, that is what I want to do
So until the sun ceases to shine, till the rains run dry
until the birds in the sky are unable to fly
I will write like the wind, fly like a bird and have fun.
If that is okay by you?

“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!

If only when was a small girl
All I ever wanted was to be good
I mixed soil in a puddle and I'd get
the most brilliant pie made of mud
Id have it in my socks and on my face
and that was the very best bit
but I was shown the "naughty step"
and that is where I'd have to sit.
I could not understand why oh why
I was only trying to be good
and all I wanted was to feed my dollies
some dinner although it was made of mud.
So there I sat seemed like forever and a day
My mind used to think silly things so they said
I used to ask the reason why I was silly
but that question always got me straight to bed.
I was told I was not hungry before going to sleep
but I was, how did they know, they didn't enquire
I was cold I remember, and the screams got me nowhere
but they weren't cold, they had a roaring fire.
I could smell their dinner cooking but it was not for me
everytime I asked for food  I was given a slap
I could not find the reason why, if only I could
I now realise I was the victim of child abuse
and I dont know why, if only I could have been good.

Do I wonder?
Do I ponder?
Run here, run there,
Fetch this
carry that.
Do this do that
Do I care?
Actually I do.

Call me old fashioned
but the sight of a kipper tie
is like nothing on earth
candy for the eye.
Bell bottoms on your jeans
bells hanging around your neck
Jazzy colours on your shirt
and nobody gave a heck.
Permed hair-dos on each head
everything went to the extreme
The Bay City Rollers
and you were living the dream.
The Osmonds you fell in love with
David Cassidy sending you in a spin
The sounds of the seventies
a memory you keep locked within.

Someone told him he's going through a bad patch
He certainly does have some very strange ways
but I think he knows nothing could ever match
the sheer beauty of his former glory days.

He used to live in a very humble two up two down
life was hard growing up in his kind of place
But you could always meet someone nice in the town
who would cheer you up and put a smile on your face.

True, life was hard but they all got by
Life was a  challenge, a funny sort of phase
sometimes all one could do was sit and cry
but that was then in the distant glory days.

But why call them "glory days" I hear you say
Well humour was in-bred to all the folk living there
Laughter was for pudding when the dinner was grey
To find that amongst strife is something quite rare.

A joke was made about all the failing and bad things in life
whether or not it made you chuckle it was still made
Life was then like managing a deck of cards
Hit rock bottom then the joker was played.

The other end of the scale was off the cards
Jackpot was always the winning goal
There was always people to give you their regards
They would give you anything, even their soul.

They were one big happy family in those glory days
One for all and all for one another so it seems.
To this day that how things happen and it stays
This did happen he said, it was one of his best dreams.

There she sits
poking holes through daisy stems
feeding the next through to make a chain.
Again and again.
A daisy chain.  It never rained.  It did not need to.
In our hearts it was always summer.  Then.
When we were young and free to roam.  When
we were young.  She still is in her heart.  Her soul
is old,  She is cold. But the memories warm her.
She lies under the daisies and revisits them whenever.
When she can.  While she can.  Trapped in her daisy time.
Not such a crime is it   To be left here.  With her heart.
She sits again and again threading daisies in a chain.
These are lazy days.  Tight nights.  White ways.  Dark fights.
Again and again these are lazy days.

My voice booms like a loud speaker in a tight space
My rib cage hurts from the sound coming from my face
My knees are  knocking with a knock that brings a smile
I am singing unnoticed if only just for a short while.

you smile, my knees knock
with excitement
You make the hands on the clock
stand still
Time is a velvet runway
with no seconds on it
Life is smooth like chocolate
when I stand by you I feel your strength
your power
You are my power always has been
always will be
until our seconds cease to be
It is called love, and it comes to us all
sometime, somehow, someday.
My love came when I was just sixteen
and i still have it, always will have
that is when my velvet runway cracks
my chocolate dries up and my seconds die.

Sometimes we all want peace and quiet
Sometimes we all wish to shout
Sometimes we all need someone
Sometimes that offer is in doubt.
Doubt is such an ugly word
A word where there is no trust
To have that trust in someone
Is as absolute must.
But maybe sometimes that someone
Does not wish to be about
Maybe that someone sometimes is in doubt
Putting that word to one side
Maybe he or she wants to confide
Because maybe someone shouts sometimes
And sometimes that someone is deep inside.

It was at a time when women were afraid to speak out
The time when certain avenues were not explored.
A time when upstairs was very different from downstairs
and the moans from maids were very much ignored.

He took advantage of her most nights it was true
It was a case of do as I say and speak not a word.
If only she could have, or done something sooner
but what was the point, her voice would not have been heard.

He lashed out at her with such hatred, and she knew it
she wanted to scream through her pain, her aches.
But she knew her place at that time, she knew it alright
but she also knew she would have her revenge, for what it takes.

She died on a Tuesday, a night a few did remember
but he knew about it, he knew in the back of his mind.
For each time he opened the door to the kitchen, he saw her
the blood, the suffering, which were one of a kind.

Still to this day Martha returns, at the same time, same place
hoping to take revenge on her murderer, she now not afraid.
But he does not appear, to her annoyance, she still to this day
reminds us all of her suffering, the death of Martha, the maid.

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.

My thoughts soar
Way above my expectations
Not like before
I look into the blue
and I hope he does too.

He went, I stayed
It was his price
that he paid
Looking into the blue
and I hope he did too.

Her slight touch, her breath on my soul
Her whisper, my shame, her living, my goal.
Every little footstep she takes
She watches my silly mistakes.
She admires, protects and is fulfilling
She is kind, comforting and forgiving.
She is with me, I know that she is
She touched me, she waits for me
I was touched by an angel.

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.

There is a fairy
that is so very brave.
She dresses in blue
and her name is Dave.
That is a man's name
I hear her cry.
The chief fairy named her
that is the reason why.
She arrived under a mushroom
all those years ago.
Wrapped in a blue spider's web
with a silken silver glow.
She had deep blue eyes
that others would so crave.
That is why she got her name
The brave fairy Dave.
So all her little years
hanging around looking nice
Until she spoke of her name
The others looked twice.
They all had the same opinion
Hats off to her they all thought
With a collection done all year
for her they all had bought
a new name - The Blue Fairy.
Now she was in her element
blue eyes to match her new name
somehow, she now knows things
will never quite be the same.


e

Happy - I know that I will be
Disappointed - of course I am
When I get my wings I'll be free
to get me out of any pickle or jam.
Surprised - you can bet I was
Shocked - I know what I'm like
I can't just hop on a bus
or peddle like mad on a bike.
Content - I was at ease
Pleased - when an angel came
The joy brought me to my knees
Without my wings wouldn't be the same

There is this untidy robin called Bert
who would sit all day in the dirt
although his cute red band
did look grand
when he put his waistcoat over his shirt.

If you believe in fairy tales and magic
If you believe in wishes then join this queue
For tonight is the night out of many when
Your dreams might possibly come true.

Look into the midnight sky full of stars
It is as if the whole sky has silver freckles
Sparkly moons and planets and beams
Pearly things and saltwater speckles.

Hold your breath for a second then close the eyes
For magic is about to happen there’s no dispute.
For stars will whizz across the sky a light show
And dreams will start to come true as they shoot.

The first apple to fall is not necessarily the best.

Looking through the images in your mind
The colours fade from great to grey
Is it that you are trying to find
a better start to the day?
It is beyond a dream, it is a pain
a pain that will never go away
Look back, examine those images again
and you will find that they start from grey
the colours will explode into view
the black as the ace of spades stays
leaving such a vibrant hue
which will paint over the dismal days.
It is beyond one's imagination
It is somewhere in-between
Beyond one's expectation
it has gone past a dream.

Call me old fashioned
but the sight of a kipper tie
is like nothing on earth
candy for the eye.
Bell bottoms on your jeans
bells hanging around your neck
Jazzy colours on your shirt
and nobody gave a heck.
Permed hair-dos on each head
everything went to the extreme
The Bay City Rollers
and you were living the dream.
The Osmonds you fell in love with
David Cassidy sending you in a spin
The sounds of the seventies
a memory you keep locked within.

Roses are not red
Violets are not blue
It is this that I dread
Falling for you.

Roses are blue
Violets are red
In my world it's true
It's time we're wed.

So place a ring
On the finger, left hand
The angels will sing
I will demand.

Bells will ring out
the bells will chime
The angels will shout
and you will be mine.

Thank goodness he has gone out of my life, through the door
He just about managed to squeeze his head through the gap.
He thought himself above his station, what a nightmare, a bore
I told him he needs to rinse out his words under a running tap.

Will he listen though, I hope he does, it is up to him, I don't care
Too many years I have suffered heard it all so many times before.
But I know what he'll do, bury his head, I like to think where
He is rotten in his bones, in his head through to his very core.

Like the snow that drifts under a door
dormant for a while but safe and sound
for now.  Until the wind blows, it goes
somewhere for now. Blows around
then the snow falls like  stars from the sky
twinkling down, sugary and sweet
for now.  Then it drifts,sparkling and dry
like the drink in your shiny glass,
topped with a cherry on a bit of wood
like the twig by your door with a berry
stuck to it for now. Shake not stirred if it could
like James would.  Ice drifts, sealing in frozen
red berries around my doorstep .Drifting ice
that floats on top of the world at the cap
reminding me that the shards of ice poking
out of my garden watering tap
look the same for now.  It is the same.