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.

Gently rolling in clover
looking for four leaves
On the white cliffs of Dover
chalk as thick as thieves.
A blue butterfly drifts by
capturing the aroma of honey
the clouds are miles high
if you were to bet with any money.
A rainbow kisses time
bringing freckles to a dream
it rains and steam evaporates from lime
clouding the view way past the stream.
A kingfisher bold as brass
perches on a jet black stump
it takes pleasure from cool wet grass
making a bony cricket jump.
The clouds are miles high once again
the kingfisher swoops across the way
Its spitting fine spots of rain
And the rainbow is back out at play.

Lord what is happening
People are fighting
Children are frightened.
Mountains are creaking
Enemies are not speaking.
The seas are fed up
ebbing flowing and smashing
Coffees have overfilled cups
and computers are crashing.
The wind has stopped blowing
forever and a single day.
Lawns need forever mowing
and the gardens will pay.
Cities are crammed
Towns are tired.
Motorways are jammed
taxi cabs are hired.
Smiles have been wiped from faces
in the heat of the day.
Expensive advertisements in places
expecting the public to pay.
Bring back the laughter, hope and reason
Bring back the smile, let children play
Let freedom ring true where there is danger
Let the world hold hands once again, let us pray.
Bring back peace bring back hope, please
To every rock mountain and seas.
Let every grain of sand warm up and sparkle again
For what it is worth
This is a prayer for this Earth.

I used to stand, dreaming
I could win that brown bear
Only takes three darts, top scores
To win, at the local fair.
Or a fish, I would have liked that
An orange thing in a plastic bag
Or hook-a-duck, a chance to win
Perhaps a new toy or wave a flag.
The smell of onions frying all day
Hot crispy potato skins enticing
The unmistakable aroma of doughnuts
With different kinds of icing.
The thrill and fear of the ghost train
With dangley things in your face
Screams, sighs, a creepy hand touching
I loved that very creepy place.
The helter skelter, skimming on a mat
Winding to the bottom with a smile
Then queuing for ages once again
Strangers in a single file.
The fair, money for this and that
Oh I wanted that teddy bear.
Eventually I got him, my new friend
Sitting there with his short brown hair.
A reminder of days when fun was fun
Screeches, screams and music very loud
They’d play the number one in the charts
To a very approving fun loving crowd.
So with my short lived fish in a bag
My bear and tummy full of candy floss
My pockets with no money just tissues
Smeared with onions and tomato sauce.
I’d head back home, looking over my shoulder
The lights, the atmosphere nothing can compare
Dodgems, rides that made you feel sick
But that’s okay at the local funfair.

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.

Six carrier bags, a handbag and an umbrella as well
My pockets are full of receipt, it is like a living hell.
Tempers are boiling, my blood pressure’s sky high
Feet are throbbing and I am ready to cry,
My mind had gone blank k and my clothes are a mess
What I look like is anyone’s guess.
My face is without make up and my hair need a comb
What I would really like to do is to go on home.
But I have to keep going, I have to shop
If I stand in one more queue I will drip.
My feet are now yelling that they hate me
And all that I need now is a good cup of tea.
My time is spent in the endless queue
And I am desperately searching for a gap to squeeze through.
I am talking to stranger with a diplomatic smile
All stood like robots in a single file.
Next year, I think U will save my precious time that I get
And do all my shopping on the world wide web the internet.

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.

Oh the joy, the seduction
The thrill of cocoa in my mind
It has to be the milky sort
I am not keen on the dark kind.
It is not velvety enough
does not quite melt in the mouth
not quite my cup of tea
although they both travel south.
But it is the taste of liquid Heaven
melting slowly on my tongue
Then a waterfall of delight
Is that so very wrong.
I love chocolate
always have and always will
If this cures all sorts of things
Marvellous - I will have it in a pill.
I think it does, it cures my thoughts
Comes complete with a big fat hug
and that is sometimes all we need
Zapping and taking care of any bug.
If you are depressed it will pick you up
wrap its chocolatey arms around you
tell you things are going to be okay
It will do whatever it needs to do.
I am in my special little place
nice and warm, my toes are curled
My little fingers opening a bar of treasure
and I am in my own little chocolate world.

I feel rosy
I am pink
With a splash of blue
My eyes are rhubarb
Dotted with iris
My dreams have been bottled
to be released on the moon
Shot through with lilac
With purple hue
My streams lay cold
brazen and brown
The love has grown old
worn down.
Moons have passed and gone by
and the tears I shed for you
are bone dry.

I am in my beach house by the sea
Sat in the chair with a cup of weak tea.
The cup was cracked some years ago
Maybe I should replace it, I don’t know.
I might give the place a lick of paint I think
Perhaps a nice bright blue or shocking pink.
Oh, and I have to make a trip into the town
The dinghy needs looking at, I will get it down
The place smells fusty when I open up at start of year
And I expect everywhere to be slightly damp when I get here!
To be economical I save my old tea bags for next time
I have a cup of tea, look at that washing line.
The knife is a bit rusty and the milk tends to turn
Toaster’s a bit rusty and the bread’ll burn.
The other day a kid stood outside making fun with his mates
Pointing at me, laughing and swinging on my gates.
But I smiled because I’m proud of what I’ve got set up for me
This is all mine, my beach house by the sea.
I make sandwiches, cheese and pickle on white
Wrapped in newspaper, made previous night.
That’ll do me till it is time for my tea
Which I will enjoy in the beach house by the sea.

I met him beneath the lilac tree
One gentle moonlit summer’s eve
The ring; his dream was given to me
And I noticed there was a breeze.
A tree started violently sway
The ring became under threat
Night passed quickly to become day
And I noticed that the Earth was wet.
The lilac soon lost its perfume
The bad weather had almost cleared
However, the sky had lost a moon
And I noticed he had disappeared.

Smooth, silky and seductive
The pleasure was all mine.
Chocolate melting in the back of my throat
Dripping like the sands of time.

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.

I'm like the wind
rushing brushing leaves against my will
until I find
I'm spiralling
into a never never land
without demand, without the real me.
Just disappearing down my own little drain
I shall not complain but just disappear.

They Bake A Cake
They asked if they could dabble in a bit of cooking.
She gulped said her prayers and counted to ten
They asked if they could steal the eggs while the hen wasn’t looking
So without delay and morals they whipped them away from the hen.
They were in a flap so that most of his stuff landed on the floor.
They had found the good butter and thick double cream.
Which apparently smeared everywhere including the door
While she  was relaxing and in a huge daydream.
She was in a good mood and was listening to Elgin
Barely keeping awake and had nodded off again.
They were searching the saucepan cupboard looking for a cake tin
When the door sprang open and in marched the old hen.
She shouted, they froze and she began to shake
They were struggling to find the right words to say.
They offered her some nice tea and a fairy cake
And they were devising a plan to get away.
They turned tables and said she wanted to bake
Thought that she could have bought the eggs instead
She said that there had been a bit of a mistake
But they went bright red and held their heads.
The hen ordered that her precious eggs be put back
And was disappointed they had taken them in the first place
They were discussing who should put them back
And the guilt began to show on each and every face
She said they were flippant and not thought it through
They were all gripping to death their handkerchieves
Now it seems they all thought the hen had gone cuckoo
But one stepped forward and said he was the thief.
Later on they both said they would go and see Mrs Hen
On arrival he dropped onto his knees.
The rest were wondering what their friend was up to again
and heard him begging forgiveness for stealing please!
“Well, you are a turncoat, what’s come over you”
They although that his situation is now rather bleak
and all gave advice what he could do
which was the topic of conversation for the rest of the week!

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.

There was once a man who had a blue beard
Which to you and me is very weird
In the growth he kept his keys
Which shot out when he did a sneeze
Being locked out of his house was what he feared

A friend is someone who you can trust
From rough to smooth, thick and thin
Someone who you can share secrets with
but to know they're kept to oneself within.

Loyalty and just being there for one another
when times hit an all time low.
A hand to hold outstretched on a screen
showing me the right path to go.

Above all our friendship is forever
forever and a golden day.
But you know this, my dear Sally Bayan
and now I can almost hear what you're about to say!

He pulled up a chair
He tried to remember
It was in this square
and it was icy December.
He saw her point her toes
then she stretched her heel
Noticed how she stroked her clothes
she had so much *** appeal.
If only he could touch her cheek
She had ruby lipstick on her lips
If he did he could not speak for a week
and he noticed the curve of her hips.
Around her neck she wore pearls
draped lovingly across her chest
Her hair hung in tight curls
He closed his eyes to imagine the rest.
She glanced in is direction
He smiled his very best smile
he oozed with every affection
for he had sat there awhile.

Puffing slowly along the track
Passengers sipping champagne
sitting comfortably back to back
on the midnight steam train.
Some care to drink tea from a china cup
Others prefer scones with whipped cream
The music from the rails steps up
as they glide over the silver stream.
The guardsman signals a stop ahead
The passengers get ready to disembark
It is the time the ladies tend to dread
fumbling around in the dark.
The engine driver's stomach moans
It needs refuelling like the pit
The coal is poked and glows
and the ashes redden bit by bit.
Bread is laid upon the *****
And fed into the heat
Bacon is laid upon the toast that's made
and their breakfast is almost complete.
A quick stop then no turning back
the whistle is blown and the passenger's choke
as the steam train puffs merrily up the track
leaving behind a trail of smoke.

Santa has got out his polishing cloth
giving the old sleigh a good rub down.
Drilling the reindeer with simple rules
to obey each law in each and every town.

Like dont shout to each other in the dead of night
keep conversation to a whisper if that
If the hooves look *****, close inspection needed
before landing on each roof use the special mat.

"He has a hope in hell" shouted Dancer, "a hope in hell"
I would have thought a smooth landing is called for.
The chimney is now out of question, since the weight gain
so we aim to shoot you at speed through the door.

"Getting the position correct in the sky hey old chaps"
agreed all the reindeer with a smile on each face.
"a fast good entry is what's needed, whizz him in!
With the right sack of toys going in the right place."

A disgruntled Santa knew they were correct
and he started to polish each and every hoof.
The reindeer offered Rudolph's nose to polish
so they could see where they were on each roof.

Like a beacon in the snow they giggled, a torch of red
Like a glow in the dark, a flashing beacon.
The rest of the reindeer suggested more like
an indication of how many mince pies he's eaten!

What with Santa half sloshed before even
half way round and moaning in the back.
And then there is Rudolph a bit pale by then
and then Santa starts being sick in the sack.

A nightmare they all knew what to do.
The call came, off they shot, they'd got what they need
A cheeky grin was had by all, they were in charge
A good well run team flying above us at speed.

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.

Alone with my thoughts
peacefully minding my own business
Just relaxing waiting for time to pass
and there came a voice over my shoulder
it whispered something.  I looked in the
direction of the call, but there was nothing.
It must have been something.
Cannot have been nothing.
Was it my imagination, my own thoughts
whistling to the wind?
Could it have been my dreams playing out loud?
Were the voices inside my head?
I lay back,closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
I felt a draught towards my right hand side.
I heard a ghostly whisper from that place.
I could only wish my hands would now stop shaking.
My palms of my hands seem to be clammy and there
is a chill running down my spine.
It was not a nice situation to be in.
I heard the voice again. It clearly said "Martha".
It was said in an agonising way.  Not nice.
I thought about my position and did not think twice..
I ran.

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!

Take a minute
to reflect
Believe and you can and you are halfway there.
Look at yourself
Have self respect
Believe you can and you are halfway there.
When a train struggles up hills on a worn track
A miner returns home with an empty sack
That train has power, no thought involved
but the miner he struggled to keep hold
of something he believed in, cared for
Hoped for and somethiing more
He knew he could do it, just didnt achieve it
But he beleived he could and he was halfway there.
The day after, he struck gold, more gold than ever before
It sparked, it told the Earth, opened its Crust's door
The miner, like the train had power more power than ever.

In this heavy pace of life we lead
Footprints hardly leaving a trace
No time to think, thoughts we need
Memories hanging like bits of old lace.

Tattered and torn, we laugh out loud
Or should I say LOL, like one should do.
Our histtory of which we should be proud
Flipping and turning our pages of life through.

Old lace from a dress from a bride
Stuffed in a suitcase wrapped in a silver thread
Guarded by a golden spider beside
A white, glistening immaculate web.

Old lace on a night shirt from years ago
Pulled over many a wrinkled, kind face.
Something our old loved ones would not throw
Because it was adorned by bits of old lace.

A rich tea biscuit in her pocket of crumbs for later
Is where she placed her hand.
A pocket containing her *****.
For her yellow queer nose, enough is enough
Old people have strange habits.
They save things for later.
"Oh thank you dear, I will save it for later!"
And as much as you try to explain
They then complain they cant hear you.
Selective hearing, that is what it is.
She can hear the bingo numbers being called
a mile off.
She can hear if I whisper "do you want a sherry"
With her bloomers, false this, false that, I love her.
And I would not swap her for the world.
She was my grandma, and I still love her.
She was beautiful, funny and awkward.
But I miss her, and always will.
RIP my grandmother Rest In Peace.

It is the end of the working week
and are you in for an exhibition?
The sun and moon are playing hide and seek
they are just getting into the position.

And it will happen all too soon
the antics of the moon and the sun
This occurs once in a very blue moon
then disappear like a cherry on an iced bun.

Play that tune, starring the sun and shiny moon
lights, camera and action, the moon slips
in front of the sun like a magnificent huge balloon
and well, the performance is spectacular a total eclipse.

It is with sorrow in my heart
that I say goodbye.
I have made some good friends
on here who I shall miss
My closest friends I shall stay in touch with
If you would like to stay in contact with me
can you message me in my in box here and I
will send you my e mail address.
My health has taken a gradual sliding down the drain
since late last year and fingers crossed hope to have better treatment soon.
I shall be keeping my account here open for about a week so if you decide you want to stay in touch message me.  
I wish each and every one on here good wishes, lots of love Cheryl.

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

"Here we go round the mulberry bush
Sang a blood stained soldier
His skull cracked and hugging a bullet
for grim death - his death,
Until hs last breath fades away
Echoing around the bush
In the mad, red, hot rush.
To Heaven.
Where he will go because he is a Hero.
He saved lives, countless lives but not his own.
That is not allowed when you are a Hero.
Round and round his head spins
Spinning around the metal case that
splintered his soul.
Round and round is the case.
A rat race to Heaven.

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 Pig That Sizzled

The pig, dressed with a rosy reminder
Shoved deep inside its mouth
A rod unfortunately attached
Travelled very south.
Rotating on a spit
And its frying skin leaves an oily mess
Not long before it’s cooked
And served on a roll I guess.
“Slice of pork sir
And a spoonful of onions”
“Trotters excluded sir,
The pig had bunions”
Nice bit of meat
And it cooked nice and early.
All to do with the tail
It was straight not curly.
I fail to see the difference
That makes to the taste of the meat
And I’m not sure what his reference
Meant about the pig’s feet.
“Deep fried bat Sir,
Care to try some”
Now that is just plain cruel
I think very definitely not
I will stick to what I have here
Which had gone far from hot?

Love comes in many forms
just from those three little words
then it spreads and performs
like a row of sweet whistling birds.

Whistling to the same sweet tune
a melody that is from the heart
to say that very, very soon
you will never be apart.

The birds, they know that love survives
even the toughest, mightiest test
and that these feelings thrive
on nothing but the very best.

So, with this in mind, give it a try
and just like the whistling dove
you will be pleased and the reason why?
It is that you have found true love.

The liberty bodice
With buttons galore
The many skirts to impress
That sticky out dress.
The red lips, the curly hair
The special wave knocked in
One’s Elvis style quiff.
One sniff, one night
One lift tonight
The jive, the hand shake
The gentleman sir at the gate.
The shoes, the stockings,
The pencil seam on the calf
How the other half
Live, they jive.

Can you imagine the taste
The supreme taste of summer on your lips
Can you feel the extra skin and flesh
encasing your bones on your ******* hips.
That is what the cream will do when it gets there
Covering your bones with trouble and extra weight.
Spoon the cream away, you do not need it
Quick enjoy the summer madness now before it's too late.

There is something in the air
not sparkles and raindrops
or magic dust from a fairy.
No we are not in dreamland
or some distant fairy quarters.
We are in the world of love
where knees knock in time
to the beating heart.
Where there is a song in your head
a sweet song of happiness and joy.
There is a dampness rising from the
palm of your hand
and butterflies are gathering in the
pit of your deeper stomach.
Why?
Because of love.
Because you have met the partner
of your dreams.
Time is on a ledge in the sand timer
the hands of the clock are motionless
the earth has had orders to stand still
for one brief moment. And then it happens.
You fall in love.
The ledge tips to allow the sand to fall with glee
The hands on the clock applaud you
and the earth sighs a sigh of relief.
Well your heart is doing a slow waltz
whizzing your blood around with a slow glow.
And your face, it is shining and you have a smile
just like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland
because that is where you are:  Wonderland.

My body is aching
I am full of pains
The pills want taking
I am trapped in chains.
The links are sealed
between each clasp
My pains have healed
it's within my grasp.

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

The Duck suddenly let out an awful squeal
The Pig 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 the Pig’s trotters were badly bleeding.
The duck had lost his squeak
Because they’d stung his beak
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.

A great writer once said to himself a pen should always have ink.
Never once did Mr Gibbet believe this or he never planned to think.
Mr Gibbet was a loner, solitude was his trade, all day talking to walls
No one ever rang on the telephone so no weekend free calls.
He chatters to himself all day as if there was someone in the room
Making out the chair was his enemy and his best friend was the broom.
A strange little man, Mr Gibbet who believed in his faith The Good Lord
He knew that if you lived by the sword you died by the sword...
He took in little amounts of food pacing himself between his meals
Did not know what luxury was or top supermarket deals.
Made his own bread which tasted of stale, cheap flour.
Scraped the floor for droppings and made the bread sour.
Bet his stomach was of cast iron use to all known germs
Drinking had only on effect and that was to scare off worms.

Beneath The Mist
Every little leaf,  bronzed around the edge
Every little scarlet berry hidden beneath
Is touched by the morning mist
And the beauty is beyond belief.
Around street corners
Hovering like some alien being
Cobwebs frozen in time
See their producer fleeing.
Teeth chattering, kneecaps knocking
Scarves covering an icy breath
Birds eggs shattered on a footpath
An unborn bird takes an early death
Car tyres crunching on a blackened surface
Sprinkled with salt to get a good grip
An elderly person’s walking stick gave way
Not much good now with a broken hip.
The morning mist, has its drawbacks
Danger hidden under black ice
Keep the eyes peeled for their are traps
Think carefully and think twice.

Across The Sand
He could see the pain in her eyes
As he carried her towards the palm
He looked straight into her soul
And she felt safe away from harm.
He placed her gently on the sand
Loosening his grip from her hips
He had thought how beautiful
And kissed her on the lips.
She smiled and begged him to stay
He sat down and stayed for just a while
Her lashes fluttered like a butterfly
And she fell in love with his smile.
She felt warmth which drowned the pain
Her fingers caressing the grains of sand
He put his strong arms around her shoulder
And she gently squeezed his hand.
Love was reunited, and a dream begun
They began to plan their new life
He then stood up and fell to one knee
And asked her to become his wife.
He caught a tear rolling down her face
Waiting eagerly for the reply.
She looked at him with her pale blue eyes
And thought “how lucky am I”.
She agreed to marry him
And placed a kiss on the  back of his hand.
She fell lovingly into his arms
As he carried her away across the sand,

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.

A woman had enormous hips
As all she ate were chips
It was all her fault
Consumed too much salt
And now she has cracked lips.

The call of the bird could be heard
from many miles around - its shrill
stirred every little berry and seed
from pillar to post, from hill to hill.

It nudged the sprinkling of frost on the posts
imprints left from the cold bird's claw
mumblings from distant old ghosts
leaving it for the morning sun to thaw.

A jigsaw puzzle of green lay about the countryside
dappling yellow fields of corn with bales of hay
this trend went on for many miles wide
the rain now splattering the red soaked clay.

But you know we have very little of which to complain
the seeds themselves leave a positive trail
dancing along roadsides and down the lane
tripping up and down the vale.

The evening sun fades to a silver  moonshine
the leaves around the hedge begin to blacken
the heads of the orange Welsh poppy decline
and the pink of the rose mingle with bracken.

The light from the lamps cast shadows in the night
the bird's call can once again be heard
curtains drape around damp windows shut tight
and on the cold twig sits the shy little bird.