Swimming around,
                                  and around,
                                                       nothing else to do
                                                                                      just wondering
                                                                                                                why he is blue.
        He saw another fish,
                                            it went around a dish,
                                                                                  on a high shelf,
                                                                                                             rather like himself.
                    That was white,
                                               de did not know what to do,
                                                                                               as he is blue.

Oh what it would be to close my eyes
and just go to a silent sleep.
But all I seem to achieve is staring into space
frustration takes over and I just weep.

One little drink
just for the road
I think not.

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.

I am on my again
in my flat cap and vest
Love has flown
my well kept nest.

It is that time again
to don my Sunday best
Love has returned
Yes you have guessed

Love came.

I would like to say thank you to Mike Hauser for everything.  Our poem Edward and Elvis was a joy on my part to write.  Mike it was an honour writing with you. Cheryl

A few black holes and plenty of stars
No smog, no wars and definitely no cars
No speed cameras, no road signs
No road works to contend with, no lines
No road rage, no right of way
a distinct difference from light of day.
Whether in your rocket or buggy for one
space is just empty from when time began.
Microwaves screaming "melt me"
no hidden monsters in a fake tree.
They are out there waiting for you
just ask the Cling Ons, Dr Spock or Dr Who.

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

The stream was transparent
like a sky without a cloud
Reflections were apparent
as fresh as a field just ploughed.
The water trickled, it just fell
as if nothing mattered at all
sweeping across where otters dwell
up to the crashing waters in the fall.
It was delightful, refreshing to hear
crystal clear waters along the verge
creeping gingerly to the weir
where fish peep then submerge.
Bullrushes like brooms stand guard
like soldiers in a regimented row
each having such a high regard
where each plant should grow.
Trees shade the dappled splashes
of the odd little leak
up to where the foamy spray crashes
along the stone lined creek.
Kingfishers, as blue as the sea
cradle their catch for grim death
snuggling up in their nests in the tree
living the moment to catch their breath.
The call of the blackbird with a golden beak
singing for its star in the show
oh if only this gorgeous bird could speak
it would tell you things you know.

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

The stream was transparent
like a sky without a cloud
Reflections were apparent
as fresh as a field just ploughed.
The water trickled, it just fell
as if nothing mattered at all
sweeping across where otters dwell
up to the crashing waters in the fall.
It was delightful, refreshing to hear
crystal clear waters along the verge
creeping gingerly to the weir
where fish peep then submerge.
Bullrushes like brooms stand guard
like soldiers in a regimented row
each having such a high regard
where each plant should grow.
Trees shade the dappled splashes
of the odd little leak
up to where the foamy spray crashes
along the stone lined creek.
Kingfishers, as blue as the sea
cradle their catch for grim death
snuggling up in their nests in the tree
living the moment to catch their breath.
The call of the blackbird with a golden beak
singing for its star in the show
oh if only this gorgeous bird could speak
it would tell you things you know.

I keep saying it
the same old thing
"One of these days".
Which day will I choose?
What am I on about
Dont ask me
No matter what it says
I am just the writer.

The stream was transparent
like a sky without a cloud
Reflections were apparent
as fresh as a field just ploughed.
The water trickled, it just fell
as if nothing mattered at all
sweeping across where otters dwell
up to the crashing waters in the fall.
It was delightful, refreshing to hear
crystal clear waters along the verge
creeping gingerly to the weir
where fish peep then submerge.
Bullrushes like brooms stand guard
like soldiers in a regimented row
each having such a high regard
where each plant should grow.
Trees shade the dappled splashes
of the odd little leak
up to where the foamy spray crashes
along the stone lined creek.
Kingfishers, as blue as the sea
cradle their catch for grim death
snuggling up in their nests in the tree
living the moment to catch their breath.
The call of the blackbird with a golden beak
singing for its star in the show
oh if only this gorgeous bird could speak
it would tell you things you know.

A card is sent through the post
it has been sealed with a loving kiss
there are a million butterflies in his hand
that image I would not need to miss;
Onemillion butterflies would not fit in my palm
I would imagine all that would do is wriggle
It would be an impossible situation for me
because I know that all I could do is giggle.
I take nothing so seriously not even the love
loving you was easy back then but now it is not
Complications have hit the melting *** and boiled over
I think I need a bigger and a stronger ***.
It is hard work listening to you now; I dont want to try
because all that you think about is yourself and that is tough
If I sit it out all night long then I know I would cry
and the situation would go from worse to rough.
t would not be so bad if you believed in what I said
Yet you cant bear to not have me around
You turn vent your anger in everything I do
but in your temper and your anger I drowned.
There is no longer a me, I do not exist
i am but a shadow on the new page
I would like to be the sunshine and Im working on that
which would make a change and drown out your rage.
Live long, have fun, take care and all the rest
Do not kiss my fingers any more they are not your
I wish you  a good life, take care and all the best.

Pick up the pieces and carry on.
Deep breath usually clears the air
Keep calm and just carry on
Your pieces will certainly repair.

Spoonful of knowing what is right and wrong
handful of singing plenty
buckets of love all day long
replacing the toilet roll when empty
the willingness to give and take
massive amount of laughter
the skill to recognise the mistake
and being good to others forever after.

Mix all ingredients carefully together fora recipe of success.

He gently taps my finger
then raises my hand to his lips
Love is all that I have left
and it comes from my finger tips.
I stroke his hair, hair runs freely
like our souls are knotted in two
Love is all I have to give
bad times and words are far and few.
He looks into my green eyes
his blue ones staring into my being
a warmth is held in my heart tonight
the love in me shows no sign of fleeing.
We are a couple who have been in love
for it seems a million years or more
married from sweethearts so much in love
until they close the final door.
Love is all that I have left to give
he knows that and so do I
I love him to the moon and then back
orbiting each star a few times in the sky.
I love him more than there are blades of grass
or more than each tiny spec of sand
I know that he loves me because
he kissed the fingers on my hand.

A Ten word poem

Silver hopes for a gold day
Keep dreaming I think.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.