A new day is dawning
the sun outstretches to the sky
a promise of a lovely morning
the hours will drift by.
The blossoms scatter beneath trees
like confetti on a grateful path way
pedestrians are easy to please
another memory on a beautiful day
squirrels have left their usual trails
playing hide and seek among the pink
petals decorate the red in their tails
its not hard what the passers by think.
they are thinking lovely things
because that is what you do
that is what the morning brings
is that what the squirrels think too?
do they worry about putting food on the table
whether or not the market will crash today
will it rain? can I work? whether you are able.
what will I wear? have I money? what to say?
Problems, problems, challenges, and the like
will the traffic be a nightmare, which way to go
is it worth walking or shall I take the bike?
the melting *** has so many things in which to throw.
The squirrels are busy hiding their food for another time
They have their life sorted in a way
not bothering about problems, money or crime
to them it is just another beautiful day.

Sadly Paddy Martin lost his life but I will always remember him.
He was a friend, a dear poet friend and I miss him.

Paddy Martin wherever you are, whichever cloud you are
sitting on this is for you.

He once told me that I touch hearts
but it was Paddy that had a heart of gold.
You always knew where you stood with Paddy
and what was about to unfold.

He took in homeless children, giving them hope
and the love that they needed and the rest.
And not everyone can find that in their heart
when your own back's against the wall and at test.

He had a loving family, adored his wife so very much
She died of a broken heart when Paddy left this Earth.
But to me they both live on, sitting on a cloud somewhere
busy writing on a scrap of paper for all that it was worth.

His poems turned pages themselves, as if by magic
He had a unique gift that is very seldom seen
He could turn the sky blue on a dull miserable day
and make the scorched grass turn once more green.

He had a stroke and I developed saucepan talk
He'd bash the lid once for yes twice for no.
The phone rang once and I heard a single  bash
He made me giggle that night but he had to go.

He knew himself that this bash meant goodbye
and the tears even now flow steadily down my face.
Paddy you were and still are champion of the world
I wish you were still around, in Paddy's place.

A tribute to a much loved poet who will be forever sadly missed.

The huge orange flame sat down
Sat down on the edge of the horizon
Waving its raspberry arms in the sky
The orange and red flames of the sun.
Waving goodbye just for a while
Whilst it visits our friends down below
Cool nights turn blue the very second
The sun decides it is time to go.
But we are left with raspberry skies
Smeared with lemons and stars
Is there a more beautiful sky
If we were to live on Mars.
No our plant and its beautiful sky
Preserve it and keep it nice.
Keep our environment clean
Before everything turns to ice.

A Fairy sat high in the trees
Rocking and holding her knees
she let out a cough
accidentally fell off
and landed in a bed of sweet peas.

Tears flow
they will flow silently forever
Anger grows
that will grow forever too
A silent tear falls to its mercy
Splashes in the lap of the fallen
An angel calls, tears fall steadily
Wearily, the angel returns
with a silent tear as we weep.

My dreams are rosy
My thoughts are read
I am all too cosy
Tucked up in my bed

Stack your purse with loads of money
tra-la-la la-la -la-la you will need it believe me
You are going into the land of milk and honey
where things are expensive and not so free.
The shopping thing is a never ending list
items just tag on the end day after each day
oh look another bargain not be missed
just dig deep in your pocket when it's time to pay
The sales are on and were they ever off
I think the word "sale" just entices you in
The prices just make the mouth froth
you lost out and the shop stands to win.
Standing in the endless queue
Tempers flaring and you just want to cry
All for the sake of having something new
But it is Christmas and you just have to buy.
You have to spend, spend and then spend
Squeezing every last penny from your savings
Your family has to have the latest trend
and you have to satisfy your cravings.
So get the battledress on and off you go
prepare to keep calm, keep sane
We all have to do it, because we know
it is that time of year again.

It is his pride and joy
His one and only pleasure
His favourite toy
His hidden treasure.
It is the Duck’s saucepan cupboard
Where he keeps his stash
Like Old Mother Hubbard
Except it’s a duck’s trash.
Little bit of this and a bit of that
Where his secrets are hid
From anything to next door’s cat
And perhaps the odd saucepan lid.
It is where he hides when he’s in trouble
When he has gone off the rails.
Not being one to burst his bubble
And I am not the one to tell tales!
They knew he was  in there
Always with a smile on his fat face
And whilst the Duck is sat on a chair
They sat outside his door just in case.
Ramming the odd sandwich into his beak
Made weeks ago hence difficult to digest
The sandwich positively antique
And would fail a hygiene test
But he does not care he feels okay
He is in his cupboard and that is beyond measure
Because at the end of the day
It is his pride, pleasure and treasure.

Bluebells and forget me nots
That summer dress with big white spots.
My mood after a really sad play
The smell of the sea on a rainy day.
My ink on a romantic card
Pebble dashed shells crumpled and hard.
Blue eggs from rather dashing hens
The unforgettable blue biro pens.
Blue films not for the feint hearted
Shiny blue butterflies for the departed.
Why do blue sweets taste the best
Obviously because they are better than the rest.
Blue oh I love blue skies
and most of all I adore blue eyes.

Standing at the roadside
Clicking my left foot
The coal man turned aside
And covered me in soot.

Standing further up the lane
So I won’t get in muddle
A biker rides by
Splashing me with a puddle.

I looked for my coat
As it started to rain
I became very soaked
And floated down the drain.

It was about this time last year when
The flowers started poking their noses in the air
Deciding whether it is safe to come back again.
But then it is all down to the right temperature.

The delphiniums blue as the azure spring sky
With little white eyes in the centre of the flower.
Nearby the bright red poppy on parade, on standby
Next to the red hot poker, the tall yellow tower.

The robin, the mad red pilot, and the blue ***
Perch on a branch covered in blossom so pink
Their beaks sandy from pecking in the sandpit
And their feathers shining like the kitchen sink.

I love spring, when life in the garden comes back
Yellow buds appear on twigs galore
The bare colours of winter gone; white and black
Fresh colours of spring have returned once more

Take a look, the cow’s milking itself
And the sheep are shearing their wool.
The hens gathering eggs from the shelf
And the pigs entertaining the bull.

The geese are collecting litter
Foxes are mending the fence
Farmers never been fitter
No work for him to commence.

Chickens have pecked the hedge
To make everywhere neat
Ducklings have polished the ledge
Where the farmer keeps his feet.

The plough horse back from the field
Had quite enough for one day
Now has to calculate cabbages to yield
Then clean out the hay.

This is the funny farm
Where smart animals hang out
Full of character and bags of charm
Lots to shout about.

Both birds would win medals for their hue
Both have rather a puffed up plump chest
Would the pigeon look apt on a christmas card
I think the robin does this job actually the best.
Who would win the contest with the loudest call
You dont see many robins in Trafalgar Square
But then again it is the cuteness that wins every time
Put that to the pigeon and he'd say "what do I care!"

Sally, is five your lucky number?
You have five stars to love.
Care for and be there for them
and I don't mean the ones above.
The stars you have are more beautiful
than those surrounding the milky way.
Yours have precious hearts that beat
and grow more like you each day.
For you are a part of them as they
are indeed very much a part of you.
Your granddaughters are the next generation
Of which you are proud and happy too.
You are lucky Sally, always think that
Give them all that you can give
Five stars, five little hearts beating
Give them the tools they can achieve the next bit with
For you Sally, and your little adorable granddaughters,
May your days be always pink and rosy.

It is 2 am and I am wide awake
There is a silence cutting the air
Hunger leads me to a cupcake
but there'is nothing there.
I listen to my teeth chattering
I am shivering,  there is no fire
Peeping I see a white scattering
Snow sits on the telephone wire
Everywhere is twinkling
The trees have decided to flop
There is definitely a sprinkling
of snow with a cherry on top.
My world's a white cupcake
It is 2 am and I am wide awake..

I'm following my yellow brick road
To where, well nobody knows
The more I say it though, the more
the idea on me grows and grows.

Yep, I'm stepping out on it step by step
with shoes on that you would not believe
If I told you they were green and sparkled
Then it is a web I set out to weave.

A lie, a delibate lie from me, no the shoes are plain
Just normal walking shoes, just run of the mill.
But you would think I would step out in style
Launch the rocket that fits the bill.

But I cannot be bothered, to tell the truth
This yellow brick road seems normal to me.
But Elton John would not have wanted that, of no
Showmanship is what is required, I hear the plea.

So okay then, my glottering shoes are on,
catching rainbows of their own.
Wait just one little minute, something I have forgotten
Must take a selfie on my mobile phone.

Well, wouldn't want the wicked witch of the east to come
and grab me whilst on my way.
I have got proof now from the mibile photo
No matter what one silly witch would say.

Elton John would be proud of me, I would hope
In my shiny shoes, and my way to nowhere
But it is what we are, what we do, I hear the cries
Or does anyone actually give a care!

This is written for Mike Hauser, I know he likes Elton John
To me he is the greatest ever singer/songwriter.  
Mike I hope you like your poem and have enjoyed reading it.

Our life is like a colourful conveyor belt
Dealing with a deck of cards dealt
Some of us have a desire to know
What is life like across the rainbow?
Somewhere midpoint beyond the glow
Little bits and bobs are shed from the rainbow.
Coloured confetti for a new man and wife
Big bright balloons for a new life,
In this magic box of tricks
It gets tossed to become a six
Then when the dice is rolled
It disappears into the *** of gold.

Whether it be just baked beans on toast
or topside of beef for a family roast.
The gravy dripping in the pan
Strawberries crammed in the flan
Or cockles and muscles at the coast.

Mushy peas in a big white dish
is more than I could ever wish.
slap on the mint sauce
and I'll have another course
followed by chips and fried fish.

Nursery Rhymes re-write
Mary ,Mary how does your garden grow?
It doesn’t I have slugs and snails
Which is a bit of a blow
Leaving their horrible sticky trails.

Humpty, Dumpty why sit on a wall
When there are chairs to park your “***”
Just because you had a fall
And you landed on your massive tum.

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie
Well actually I think it was too many.
There are starving people out there you know
Buy something better with your gold penny.

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner
Eating his big plum pie.
Stuck in his thumb,
Well that was wrong
Why be so dumb
And why burst into song.
Just eat it, do not brag about it
Sticking in your thumb, dear me.
How strange nowadays to sit
In a corner, how rude is he?

When I go to the end of the Earth
Iron your shirts till my fingers drop off.
Stand cooking until my feet beg me to sit.
Nurse you when you are dying with a cough.
Plan meals, clean like I've never cleaned before.
Bake apple pies and a heart warming stew
I have said it once and I will say it once more
I do these things because I love you.

I haven't seen clover draped on those hills
for such a long time.
September, a romantic, beautiful month.
Pink hills, rosy faces, a picture of Heaven,
Petals scattered in a perfect line.
Those hills to climb, young love to seek.
In the blink of an eye, marching to the top
Never stop searching never drop
until you can relax in your clover
when the climb is over.
Take in the perfume
there is always room
among the pink and lime green
To be spotlessly clean,
Your young face, your green eyes retrace
familiar steps among the purple heather
wondering whether you are closer
The feeling is with you for a very long time.
The decent after the climb takes your breath away
and replaces with the love of your life holding buttercups
you haven't seen beauty like this for a very long time.
The flowing gold in her hair makes you stare
Radiating with love and romance, you walk with the petals
down your golden aisle, and have love for a very long time.

A  father is support for his family
The strength to carry on.
The power in a backbone
And most of all he is fun.
There is always a smile from a dad
when things go wrong and they do.
But in a dad there lies a strength
and other good things too.
You can confide in a dad
He will listen and will not judge.
He will protect, shield from harm
and he will never hold a grudge.
He will be proud and walk down the aisle
with his little Princess holding his arm.
His heart is always full of love
and he is always relaxed and calm.
His sons are the apple of his eye
His name carried forward once more
Dads are programmed with a special dance
a Dads dance that they do on the dance floor.
All these things, in their own little shed
Their house is their castle, what more can I say
But to my own father, my lovely dad, my friend
I wish you and all dads around the world
A happy Father's Day.

They talk
we hear
they walk
then reappear
where did they go?
its all too queer
should thy know?
bother
they would say
a world sat on the ledgr
a sarp one at that
it saif in anuncertain tone
im going  to die
why?
\the Lord called  my name
I came in, dropped by
to say goodbye
neer a true word said in jest......CHERYL

My eyes are closed
They have retired.
Into the world of sleep
But my tears, they do flow
Trickling nice and slow.
I just weep.

My thoughts run free
Inside my head ; a mess
My messages run deep
But my tears will not dry
I just simply cannot cry
I just weep.

SANGUINE STAINS
It should have been in her veins
But it was spread on the floor.
Seeping and creeping its life away
Under the stairs, under the door.
She held herself, the pain,
Ripping through her soul.
Deeper now, it is midnight
She wants to be left alone
It’s her life her fight.
He stuck the knife in
She clenched her teeth.
The head appeared without force
Unknown it was like her
Capable by her
Produced by her not him.
This life would be stronger than him
But would be better than him.
Somehow she wished he was here
By her side, by the baby’ side.
She looked at the sanguine stain
She had nobody in which she could confide
But the new life, her son, her new life
A Mother, no had begun
Her life, her lie so far had now begun.

Walking along the stone path
I discover violets, so sweet
Delphiniums as blue as the sky
Forget-Me-Nots carressing my feet.
My blue world, a delight
In here my life is complete
The fragrance floating by
on the wings of a golden butterfly.

When you’re old and you’ve stuffed yourself silly
On  everyone’s chocolates and nice things to eat.
Give me a nudge if you please, on your way out
In case I fall asleep and knock myself off the seat,

When you have spent all day in the garden
Cutting lawns and trimming back the odd hedge.
Give me a nudge  on the way out please
Amd leave the keys on the ledge

On Saturday night, the musuc beckons you
Your hips pivot like Elvis and you have feet like Rogers
Give me a nudge on the way out
To prove I am not like an old codger

Warmth clings to my back
Like a comforting blanket
The rays piercing my skin
and at last it is Spring.

Bring me blossom, pink as confetti
Like it is raining petals from Heaven
The petals fall on my face
and at last it is Spring.

The wings of the dove flap above
Guiding my way through the wood
Mushrooms I do not recognise cling to trees
and at last it it is Spring.

Bulbs, the daffodil and the bluebell
stir from their nice warm beds.
Outstretching their leaves to the sky
and at last it is Spring.

The doves,  bluebells and mushrooms
and the warmth of the Spring midday sun
Remind me of my youth and that is not a bad thing
I am just glad that Spring has begun.

She used to place behind each ear
a little dab of this sweet smelling scent.
It is not till I was much older and all grown up
I realised the reason behind this and what is meant.

She (my grandmother) had a secret kind of life
You could see the magic behind her eyes.
She had some stories to tell if she could
Stories that were placed in a locked disguise.

She loved Devon, the fresh sweet smell of Devon
Its fields full of mauve sweet violets for miles
Miles and miles of purple haze and the blue sea
I have memories of those stories and her smiles.

Devon Violets in little fancy bottles
with a puffer dangling from a tiny string
Beige lace, china cups with tea leaves around the rim
Tea leaf reading stories and the hope this would bring.

I wish I could hold her hand, her lovely warm hand
To keep me company just for one more day.
Now I am sitting in my silence with my dreams
just wondering what if I had that chance what I might say.

Bluebells and forget me nots
That summer dress with big white spots.
My mood after a really sad play
The smell of the sea on a rainy day.
My ink on a romantic card
Pebble dashed shells crumpled and hard.
Blue eggs from rather dashing hens
The unforgettable blue biro pens.
Blue films not for the feint hearted
Shiny blue butterflies for the departed.
Why do blue sweets taste the best
Obviously because they are better than the rest.
Blue oh I love blue skies
and most of all I adore blue eyes.

This year Santa has a particular personal worry
And I don’t mean to complicate the riddle
But when I say he has eaten far too much this year
And the weight has piled on around his middle.

Yes he has got far too fat around his girth
He is worried the sleigh won’t take his weight
Unfortunately unless he goes on a crash diet
He will be regretting what he ate!

The time came and to cut a long story short
He boarded along with the toys and was on his way
Rudolph noticed he was under some strain
And wondered what he has stuffed on the sleigh.

“What’s he got back there” moaned Dancer
The rest of them pulled hard to drive
They came to an abrupt halt on a roof
Santa shot down a chimney with a nose dive.

He realised he was the wrong way round
But then it had all gone mysteriously black
He wished he could understand the dilemma he was in
The truth of the matter he’d got stuck in the sack.

He arrived at the bottom in a heap with and a crash
Toys, paper and mince pies were everywhere
To put it bluntly he was in a complete mess
And I dare not say what had happened to his hair.

Rudolph gingerly looked through the window
And thought the view was indeed very weird
Santa has apparently got stuck in his sack
And he had carrots poking out of his beard.

Meanwhile just to complicate matters
His team players, the reindeers were getting merry
Eating mince pies like there was no tomorrow
And knocking back the extra dry sherry.

Rudolph managed to get Santa back in a heap
And plonked him on the trusty old sleigh
Carried on and did Santa’s job himself
In a Rudolph the red nose reindeer sort of way.

Thanking goodness that was over he can get some rest
And was proud that he had delivered the toys
What the family will think when they see the mess
And he hoped they didn’t hear the fuss and noise.

I saw a bird
a strange little bird
Known as the brush.
Its mum was a blackbird
and his dad's a thrush.
It sings so lovely
with its bold beak
if it could it would
probably speak.
And say "I'm a brush
because my mum's
a blackbird
and my dad's a thrush.

Picture This
Picture this: salmon coloured coral with tangerine
Bordering an atoll, and fencing it in.
Emerald clear waters blotched with aquamarine
Crystal clear like porcelain.
Fish as red as berries stewed with damson
Or as yellow as a canary made from brass
Some resemble amber blushed with crimson
And roses with sap spilt on the grass.
Picture a kingfisher as blue as the sea
Brick red wings as sharp as blades
He perches on an old olive tree
With bark as black as the ace of spades.
Picture a raspberry ripple sky
Peaches and lemons draped in-between
Fields as gold as a baked cherry pie
And a rainbow settling on the green.

I had a job to put down the spoon
It was dripping with lovliness
Just dripping like wishes in a line
Creating a smile with happiness.

It shines like silk, it flows like magic
Chocoate, rich proper chocolate
You can slap me silly til the cows come home
I would not care if they were late.

The aroma of chocolate, expensive and rich
Plays on my tongue I yearn for more.
It is just the right time of the year too
Chocolate, chocolate, is what I most adore.

Friends, well let me describe my good friend Sally
She is like a breath of fresh air
blowing perfume from pink blossom.
The gentle touch in your hair of a leaf
massaging your face, stilling your thoughts.
She is like the beauty of an ocean
Calming waters around an atoll
clear as porcelain.
She knows what to say when, where and how
She is intelligent beyond belief
Homely and wise.
But Sally Bayan above all these things
you have a quality standing above all
Loyality.
You are a good friend Sally, and I love you.

In the days gone by
many , many moons ago
i used to question why
instead of just letting it go
things said in anger led to a sigh
and life came to a blow
then I used to cry
instead of just letting it go
that was then this is now
now that i have turned the big six o
instead of if it is now how
and I just simply let it go

The day began early.  This morning’s sunset was exceptionally beautiful, cloudless in fact. No rain forecast whatsoever.  Clearing cobwebs seemed imminent.  Suddenly without warning, huge spiders appeared, some with large boots, others smoking wooden pipes. Very scary business.  “She’ll go soon” said one massive spider smiling confidently. “Too right” announced his neighbour. “They all follow suit, petrified like wimps!”
Fortunately brave’s my middle name.   Appearing unafraid or “wimpish, shakily but slowly I gingerly edged towards a door which had been left conveniently open, muscles let rip, brain cells sent messages “red alert”, firing tendons and ran. I’m not that courageous!

He speaks with a gentle voice
He has a gorgeous face.
His eyes are like the bluest of pools
his smile brightens the place.
and with all that said and done
he is my beautiful eldest son.

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.

Silent whispers from Mars
Dust gathers to provoke
There is a mist over the moon
The man in the moon must have spoke.
He drifts here and there
No footprints to show his path
He silently moans, he groans
lets out the occasional laugh.
He is watching our planet
Watching the waste and mist
He whispers good nothings into the air
and desperately shakes his fist.
In despair he sends out a whisper
Blows a kiss from his icy blue hand
The deserts catch it, and keep its secret
and now it is buried beneath our sand.

Cherries topped with cream
strawberries dripping with sunshine
Sweet as sugar, ruby red juice
Let the glory be mine!

If ever there were a magnificent view
Hooded by a crisp golden sky
It is the Norfolk fields of blue
A first class seat money can buy.
Rows upon rows of lavender divine
In straight lines up and then down
The performance it gives is all mine
And I have the best seat in town.

Just thought I would share this with you again that I wrote for the talking newspapers for the blind. It was published in 2003.

Picture this: salmon coloured coral with tangerine
Bordering an atoll, and fencing it in.
Emerald clear waters blotched with aquamarine
Crystal clear like porcelain.
Fish as red as berries stewed with damson
Or as yellow as a canary made from brass
Some resemble amber blushed with crimson
And roses with sap spilt on the grass.
Picture a kingfisher as blue as the sea
Brick red wings as sharp as blades
He perches on an old olive tree
With bark as black as the ace of spades.
Picture a raspberry ripple sky
Peaches and lemons draped in-between
Fields as gold as a baked cherry pie
And a rainbow settling on the green.

It is in the lazy, hazy days of late summer
In the heat, a daisy parts company
My body perspires and sends a shimmer
Of sparkling salt down my spine and skin
A rose stands straight like cadet, red
Like his beret, standing as proud as he.
A tropical butterfly dances within
The petals of the rose, tickling the row.
The wind whispers its petals
So secretly, so delicately, to and fro.
The butterfly wears a brave face
Watching the daisy and the rose
With wings just like Nottingham lace.
In the heat, my body embraces its wings
And it kisses my hand, knowing its place
In the lazy, hazy days of the summer.

Once it waited, for her
Now it is back again
This time it is her
She has no pain.
No, not this time
The Lord took it away
The butterfly returns
in the hope it might stay.
But it came for him
She waits by the door.
His eyes close, the butterfly rises
and returns like it did before.
This is written for my very dear friend Denise.