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..

Clear waters lap the shore
Peppermint rocks crackle
White horses gallop in
Bringing in their foam
Sands sparkle like diamonds
on a peach.  The beach radiates
***** like oranges peck
with claws to match.
The beach.

There is something beautiful
That appears every single night
The hour of the pearl begins
When we turn off the light.
It is the silvery disc shining down
A loyal satellite in our skies
Stare at it too much
You’ll have spots before your eyes.
Can we see a face?
Is it the man in the moon?
Like it is depicted
In a children’s television cartoon.
Is it a big slice of cheese?
Just suspended in outer space
With little mice in spacesuits
In their little hiding place.
Or is it a big jewel
Twinkling in a huge golden crown
Fit for only those with enough money
And a super sized ball gown.
Will there be trips to walk amongst the dust?
That has not moved since beginning of time
With your new moon boots and suits
New craters to discover, new hills to climb.
Will we have rockets ready in a launch pad?
Just sitting waiting for mission control
Next door neighbours blasting off like no tomorrow
Exploring the old black hole.
Will there be holiday companies
Will there be hotels by the million
But all with the same old view
A super nova to look at occasionally
From a helmet you can just about see through.
No special menu, no specially cooked meals
Just tablets of dried up pieces of dust
Made from chemicals designed to taste like
Best steak and mushrooms in a cheese pie crust.
No drinks from the bar, no happy hour
Just controlled vapour from a tube
Whizzing down one’s throat.
Complete with an artificial ice cube.
Do you really want of all this?
It could really all come all too soon.
But between you and me, I would rather
Just enjoy the beauty of the old moon.

To all my friends,
my followers
You are stars
every single one of you.
From the bottom of my heart
I am sending you a big hug.

There is a bird on the roof
and it is trying to squeak
it's having a bit of a job
beacuse it has glue on its beak.
Its feathers are caked
together and in a knot
I'd like to say old bird
you're in a bit of a spot.
"How did you manage to
get covered in glue I said"
It must have flew over thinking
the white stuff was bread.
He landed and too late
met with his fate
if I were that little bird
I'd clean up before it's too late!
He'd be stuck together
never to fly again
Just a solid feather ball
and that would be a pain.

Allow me to put together a few words about love
Sharing feelings and all what it consists of.
To me love is strong like a knight in armour
Brave and solid dressed all in white
Love is sweet like Turkish delight
Love has an undying power
Yet gentle like a delicate flower.
It is like having a mad love affair
With your favourite teddy bear.
Love is every reason t look out for
Holding your hand; opening the door.
Let us just suppose
That it is soft like a red rose
As stormy as a grey sea,
Romantic like the last dance
An everlasting romance that is love.

A brisk walk in the midday sun
Smashing crispy leaf shapes
Into a crinkled crimson.
The wind brushes my face
As I kick the pavement filth
Into it rightful place,
A bird uses the facility
As its mud bath
Splashing shadows on
The dry path
Bleeding together
The dust and damp
Under the privacy of
A street lamp.

Mr Pig needed a plan in which to inject
He knew Mr Duck had become very hurt
So he has decided to treat the duck with respect
And buy him his favourite colour tee shirt.

That did not work so he’s bought a scouring pad
Well somewhere somehow one has to draw a line
And this thought he had made him feel really glad
Because it meant Mr Duck could make his saucepans shine.

Mr Duck was sinking into further depression
His whole being felt sort of broken.
He sat with his little face without expression
And what is more he had not spoken.

Ducks these days have to be sort of thick skinned
Especially when you run out of luck.
Life is not like a a mad, mad whirlwind
These are the thoughts from a broken duck.

He needed a plan in which to inject
He knew his friend had become very hurt
So he has decided to treat him with respect
And buy him his favourite colour tee shirt.

That did not work so he’s bought a scouring pad
Well somewhere somehow one has to draw a line
And this thought he had made him feel really glad
Because it meant his friend could make his saucepans shine.

This friend was sinking into further depression
His whole being felt sort of broken.
He sat with his little face without expression
And what is more he had not spoken.

Friends these days have to be sort of thick skinned
Especially when you run out of hope.
Life is not like a a mad, mad whirlwind
But dwindlig like soap on a rope.

Repair it if you can
Two hearts are better than one.
Your destiny is split two ways
Travellers lost in two lanes.
Blood rushes to the heart
In a mad panic and too many tears
Lost in broken down veins
Forever single and now always apart
Receiving second hand news
Please mend a broken heart.
No instructions though and a reused fuse

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.

My life seems like a bubble
gently drifting, no trouble
A delicate, soft bubble of air
filled with love and extra care.
This thing so free, so agile
so bouncy so fragile.
A gentle sneeze
it changes course in the breeze.
Filled with colour from a rainbow
You know it had a certain glow.
People stand and admire it floating
its golden coating, they were gloating
As it would delicately drift
Sometimes a smile would lift
it - it immersed in being free
Then it turned to look at me
and I heard a pop
I saw it drop
I feared the worst
my bubble had burst
Just a smidgen
It was a grey pigeon
A rat in the kitchen
I asked it to stop
Like a Spanish bull in a china shop
Full of hot air
just to compare
This bull
was full
of hot air.

Life is all about fitting in.
A new day at school
Sitting amongst total strangers
for a good couple of hours.
The powers that be say
Do not break any rule
at any point in the day.
Following guidelines
is not that bad,
There are times
when one is sad.
But we have acceptance
and that is all good.

A new day at the office
Sitting with total strangers
For more hours than you know.
The powers that be say
Do not break rules
anytime, any day.
We all follow regulations
It is not that bad
But the time to go home
When the whistle blows
Makes one feel glad
Blood pressure glows
"Good day love?" enquires she
"Time went quick" replied he.
Better when I have acceptance.

Acceptance brings friends, laughter
Makes time whizz like a spinning top.
Brings hope ever after
especially when time starts to drop
Accepted into society
Where trust is the king
Acceptance in life
well that is a different thing.

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

During the night, a dreadful night, a mole dug deep
deep and around my garden that I love
This cheeky mole then had the nerve to stop burrowing
and then surface to check the damage from above.
Up came his velvety head and sniffed the fresh air
parting my newly laid lawn like a digger.
Now he appears to be smiling the cheeky scoundrel
He is making the problem a whole lot bigger.
"Look what yo have done" I shouted "made a right mess
The piles of earth are everywhere with your coming and froing"
"With all due respect madam" sniffed the mole "what do
you expect when I cannot exactly see where I am going!"
"I have no map, no satellite navigation device, just my claws
I am just a mole and all that I can do is dig, I've no appliance
No shiny *****, no mechanical device, what do you expect
Honestly madam it is not exactly rocket science.
He tutted and rushed back down the hole leaving me
speechless and trying my best not to cry.
The mole had made his way underground by now next door
but my hard work was down the drain - I wonder why!

What good is there in a chocolate teapot
It will not hold any of your Rosy Lea
Obviously not but I could eat it
Which is good enough for me!

The Coastline
The salty spray
Crashing to the shore
Takes my breath away
I want to see more.
The coastline curves
Around the glorious bay
The beach huts serve
The finest cafe au lait.
Crunching pebbles underfoot
Sand in-between my toes
Forgetting the time it’s took
But then nobody knows.
Knows my whereabouts
Where I have been
Cannot hear my shouts
Or hear me scream
I’m joined by a lone gull
I offer him to share my lunch
In two seconds flat our space was full
Of hungry beaks eager to munch.
I enjoyed their company
Although I couldn’t hear myself think
There was that many
Birds fighting to eat and drink.
They eventually flew
They had other plans I could see
They had found someone new
And had finished with me.
I cared not a jot now and explored
The ragged coastline to the new town.
Rusty red boats were moored
Next to new ones clad in brown.
Ropes twisted, knotted and tied
Holding fast against the afternoon swell
The time suggests the incoming tide
My walk was over by order of the ship's bell.

”Oh my dear, what is this life
Is it a crazy, crazy dream?
Are we two lovers trapped
Trapped in a world of fun.”
“What!” a ******* up face said
I have only come to borrow tea
I’m not your man, my name’s Fred
And put some clothes on so I can see.
The neighbour had his spectacles
In a right old steamy way
He only fancied just a cup of tea
Now he is too embarrassed to say.
“Come here my prince and grabbed
Him by his thin choking throat
Tell me how much you love me.”
The neighbour drew close his coat
“What I know is I’d love a cup of tea.
Don’t get me wrong I like you just  a bit
Think you have got the wrong end of the stick love
Now let go of my throat before I have a fit.”
“All mine until forever more.”
She has gone mad he thought, whatever next
He edged his way towards the door.
She half smiled and sat down and said
“That will do I think, its cool.”
The neighbour kept his beady eyes peeled
And realised she had been rehearsing for school.
She laughed and said “thanks” and flopped on the couch
He flopped also and she wriggled a bit and thought.
Maybe he likes her after all, maybe he didn’t
Maybe he fancied his chances for once to be caught.
What the heck, they held hands and he got his tea
She got her man, he felt a fool
She played her role, he denied it all
They are both together now which is cool.

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,

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,

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.

Different rides
swings and slides
coconut shy to aim for
Onion skins roasting
cheese on bread toasting
screaming out for more.
Sausages frying
girls crying
mum's had enough.
Dodgems whizzing
lemonade's fizzing
the boy's full of the stuff.
He's won take your pick
Waltzer's making 'em sick
Spend the extra time.
Burgers and sauce
Now full of remorse
as if it is a crime.
A day at the fair
nothing can quite compare.

Love is addictive
but then it jolly well should be.

A diamond sparkled in the night
In daylight hours it shone too bright
It twinkled, it dazzled
it shone, it bedazzled
Something of a rare unusual sight.

That was until it fell down a drain
Whereupon it was never seen again.
Replaced it with plastic
dangling from elastic
Instead of an expensive gold chain.

The man rose from his chair
His tummy full of crackers and cheese
He’d polished off another éclair
And wiped the cream from his knees.
The lady was devouring cheesy strings
And a sandwich crammed with ham
she'd got lemon curd caked in her rings
And her mouth was smeared with jam.
The man was in a daydream
Thinking of something sweet
Perhaps some juicy cherries and cream
Topped with chocolates and wheat.
The man retired to bed, I wonder why!
He had become quite ill
The lady knew the reason why
And told him to stay still.
She asked her friend for advice
While the man counted sheep
Her friend said he was paying the price
But nursed him while he was asleep.

The siren awakes me, shakes my heart
Alarm bells are ringing inside my head
I cant quite seem to distinguish the two apart
so I pull the sheets up and resume sleep in the bed.

There it is again, the sirens seem a lot deeper
It as if a hand, an icy hand is stirring me again
This time the situation is a lot creepier
and my bravery is heading straight down the drain.

My hands are shaking now and I have gone quite hot
The blood is rushing around like an agitated stream.
I hear a distant lullaby, and it is making me smile a lot
because I know this is just one very bad dream.

A dog on a silver lead walked past a shiny window
In the reflection he was horrified what he saw
He had no fur, no silky hair on his head, bald
Just skin and bone from his tail to his paw.
He thought to himself , "now don't I look a fright"
"You would have thought they would have helped me."
His thoughts mulled over in his little brain all day
and he eventually put together a rather good plea.
He sat signalling to his owner rubbing his paw on his head
Twiddling the air in a manner suggesting something big
Then pointing to this sofa with his tip of his tail
Therefore in doggy language he wanted a brown hairy wig.
But his master was confused and thought he'd gone mad
thought he needed to go outside to relieve himself
But the dog now at the point of uselessness was bartking
and began sniffing and crying at the brush on the shelf.
"If only I could make him see what I need"
Gesturing to the hairs hanging from this tatty brush.
"I need a wig, something to adorn my skin, cant you see"
"dont walk away stop telling me to shush."
He tried to bark his talk mimicking "I need a wig"
in four short sharp barks, " woof, woof, woof, woof. "
He should understand that, that's done the trick
I have portrayed my message, that is enough.
His eyes dropped to the floor when he saw his prize
It is enough to make the angry pooch bleed.
It wasn't a nice furry wig or coat that came
I was his trusty, now so hated silver lead. ****.

There was once a dog who was dyed blue
H never knew quite what to do.
He thought since I'm called Elvis
I will shake my bony pelvis
and try to howl out his songs too.

Everyone has dreams
but her were special
Walking in a bluebell wood
With shoes of white satin
Flowing silk pink dress
cascading over the blue
wrapping around twigs
bit never tearing,
while she was wearing
her dream.

Stepping over stones
cold as the sea washes them clean
Her warm skin clinging like a peach
to fragrant, sweet flesh
Green seaweed stroking her toes
A dream as it goes
Just a dream.

Swimming with dolphins
Their intelligence, their bravery
Keeping calm, keeping still
as the waves wash you further away
away from the dull daytime duties
to a mermaid awaiting adventure.
But the dolphin knows, it shows
you the way to a better future.
it inbeds a still, in you, a dream.

We all have dreams, what is yours?

The mixture,
looking as good as it tastes
dappled with currants
matured by the lakes.
Splashed with cherries
as ripe as they should be
Baked with love in my heart
backed up by a cup of tea.
Cradled not curdled with eggs
with a touch of Jamaican ***
Drenched in the juice from an orange
and dried pineapple, loved by some
not by others. But it is not for them
it is for you Sally.  The finest cake
in the land, baked lovingly by me.
For your forthcoming special day.

There was a smell of Devon violets in the air
And the Pig noticed that there was a gentle breeze.
The Duck seemed to have combed his one lock of hair
And he was preparing to drop to his knees.

He fiddled with his apron trying to ****** it off
He was a funny shade of pale pink and blue.
He started his sentence with a little cough
“My friend, you know how I have feelings for you”.

“Yes, get on with it, what do you want to say”.
Nothing could have prepared to pig for the next bit
“My friend, you are my world, my Doris Day
More precious to me than the chair in which you sit.

“Do you want to go out for a drive?
You should have said earlier on.
Now it is late, it is nearly half past five
Very soon the day will be gone."

The Duck spluttered for him to be quiet
He had now a serious wrinkled beak
He regretted now going on a diet
But alas, he started to speak.

“My friend I have something to ask you, would you
Be so bold as to marry me.”
“What! Screamed the Pig. The subject is taboo”
And suggested that he was barking up the wrong tree.

The Duck went violet and embarrassingly stiff
“I didn’t mean to offend, forget it” and ran top speed.
He wanted to jump off a cliff
But knew e might just bleed.

So he hid for three weeks until his face went pink
He went a bit thin, but survived the humiliation
Hiding gave him time to think
Which only led to frustration?

He had to think of a plan
A rapid plan at that or he was in trouble
I will tell the pig I have become a different man
And that I look like the Duck, a duck double.

Then I will reappear as if nothing is out of place
He will be confused, I will be in the clear
He will say I remember that face
And I will have nothing to fear.

Out he shot like a screaming hyena, the Pig’s wig to the side
His trotters were performing a jig, he wasn’t quite sure.
Usually he leaves the house so full of respect and pride
And was particular about anything he touched or indeed wore.

“The Duck’s gone” he yelled to nobody that was about
“My friend has up and left me” sobbing out for all he was worth
“Does nobody care, can anyone hear me if I shout”.
“Talk to me, it doesn’t cost the Earth”

By now the Pig had got his bloomers in a twist
Started searching all the cupboards he could find.
Seeking out the little places he had inadvertently missed.
Looking in all the secret hideouts a Duck would hide.

The Pig sat in a corner and waited for the duck to come back.
He waited a couple of days and he was wondering whether he was dead.
He something outside, he thought it was a quack.
In slid a skinny leg and a webbed foot as brown as wholemeal bread.

In slid a suitcase with stickers “I was here” on from a seaside resort.
In came an enormous stuffed donkey toy with “Made in Spain” on it.
The little devil has been abroad without me, he thought
He has got the nerve I have to admit.

He was getting crosser and crosser by the minute
He was a nice shade of violet and blue.
The blood in his veins putting pressure on his three piece suit
In fact he was getting himself wound up and in a stew.

“Where exactly do you think you have been” enquired the blue blob
“Oh I have been to Majorca for the week, told you when I booked”.
By now he’d heard enough and his head had started to throb.
The Duck had squeezed in his saucepan cupboard and never looked.

The Pig was still chattering on firing the same old question
The Duck was stuffing himself silly with Spanish sweets
Devouring one after the other in no order or hesitation
Never before had he had such nice treats.

ThePig finally tapped on the door of the cupboard and spoke
The Duck could not answer owing to too much food being in his beak.
The Pig was under the impression he was copying a bloke
When the Duck let out a gigantic squeak.

A line of ants were frog marching a leaf around his leg
He froze like a solid lump of ice o a hot day.
His legs were shaking like they were scrambled egg
And his mind had gone into panic and was far away.

The Pig the protective one, at once became a superhero role
The door between them came down with a crash
To the annoyance of the Duck who had his head in a pudding bowl
Promptly hid the bowl and sweets in a flash.

“How dare you interrupt me” shouted he with a frown.
His legs were twitching from the ants which were bothering him
The Duck got up off the floor and proceeded to jump up and down,
The Pig thought his actions were foolish and pretty grim.

One week later the Duck reluctantly emerged from the cupboard
And began to prepare something for friend to eat.
He ransacked the shelves like old Mother Hubbard
Rescuing some tins of something or other which were now obsolete.

Which was fine by the Pig, he ate anything he could get his trotters on
He was just pleased to be reunited with his dear old friend.
He dined until what=ever the meal was called was gone
He did not enjoy the slop and once more had to pretend.

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.

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!
The Pig knows he is in there
Always with a smile on his fat face
And whilst the Duck is sat on a chair
He sits 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.

Now this tiny fairy wanted a garden
a garden where she was the chief
she would be in charge of colours of flowers
and she decided the size of each and every leaf.
She had to choose when each bud was to flower
and how much sunshine each plant was allowed.
She sheltered delicate plants from the heavy rain
and kept an eye on each and every cloud.
She would stand under a mushroom
it was a choice of whether or not to get wet
she would poke her tiny finger in the ground
at that point it was perfect for a seed to be set.
Today is her birthday, and she is the grand age of seven
she wanted a fairy garden she told me
This little cousin of mine was sent from Heaven
She is an angel, has wings, it is plain to see.
She is a thoughtful little girl, a fairy, beautiful, so bright
she is the apple of her daddy's eye
Happy birthday Lilli, an angel in pink glorious light
Spread your wings Lilli and one day you will fly high.

Written for my beautiful little cousin who is seven today.
She is so lovely, have a lovely day Lilli.

There lives a fairy at the bottom of my garden
She resides in the third mushroom down
she appears not to have much space you see
but she has the largest fungii in town.

She is a lucky one but does not realise it
I dare say she owns more than most
she has a flower stal to hang her washing on
which is no bigger than a small post.

She is lucky she does not have to pay rent
she reckons she has not mushroom to spread
but you know fairies have such large demands
so another plan is needed here instead.

She is looking to go to another toadstool
which is way too small for her box of tricks
She has her beady eye on another abode
and this time it is made out of bricks.

There was once a fairy who lost her wings
In fact she was always losing her things.
She tried hard from January to December
But she found it hard to exactly remember
And the complications and confusion it brings.

Lying flat amongst the purple clover
on top of a very chalky hill.
Listening to my mind tick over
and around me life is perfectly still.

I calmly glance at the blue sky
I can smell the fragrance of late honeysuckle
I notice the dance of the pale blue butterfly
tasting the sweetness of the corn cockle.

I manage a few shut eyes and forty thinks
Then realise my mind is one mad scramble
I try to visualise cottage roses and rich red pinks
and decide to venture on in a casual amble.

I wondered if this is where they keep forgotten rainbows
in amongst the silence where the river bends
Perhaps it is where the blue lavender grows
in a place where promises are made and false hopes end.

The air sweeps gracefully across my peachy face
I hear the lonely call of an overhead thrush
I decide to leave my Heaven, my resting place
and return once more to life's mad, mad rush.

They wave in the breeze
A silent wind
That travels far.
Their heads bow with respect
They want peace
That travels far.
The poppy - a sign of remembrance
Its petals nodding in the breeze.
Saying no more war, no more.
Too much blood shed,
its petals painted red.
Its eye watches show the white flag
Saying no more war, no more.
The poppy, a sign of peace,
everyone wants peace.
Everyone.
Place a poppy on yourself,
a sign of respect, to remember
those killed in a war. No more.
A field of red, where they lay
The innocent poppy, it will say
no more.  Please no more.

He turned and looked
As she walked the other way
That moment etched in his mind
It's been a nightmare of a day.
His solitary walk back to the car
Her footsteps echoing in his head
Replaying moments of the last few seconds
Going over and over what was said.
He didn't want to end it this way
But she obviously did  He shed a tear
The tear refused to fall, he didn't want to cry
Was this still love, was this brave, was this fear.
Three things spring all at once, so much to take in
Emotions are getting the better of him, that's for sure
Keeping them together, in perspective and within.
That is a hard thing to do when your life is in tatters
Lonely nights, quiet days now followed, every day
He did not want this to get this far on reflection
and now he has to put his hands up and pay.
The final goodbye is etched on his heart forever
She did not even turn to acknowledge his wave
Her confident walk as she floated away hurts
and it is an image in his head he did not want to save.
He kept repeating the phrase, the final goodbye
over and over to himself for the next few weeks
Now everything is so quiet, you can hear a pin drop
the house now moans and the roof creaks.
The final goodbye hurts still and will always hurt
There came a lonely knock at his door, he looked around
So many times tricks have been played with his mind
He wandered slowly to the door and without a sound
he opened the door thinking it was just a prank again
She stood there, his final goodbye had hurt her for a while
She looked for something in his expression, there were no tears
that was good, but there was something, it was a smile.

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.

He is an eating machine
who gives himself grief
Devouring expensive cuisine
Whilst sitting on his leaf.

The time he sit there is brief
Gosh the minutes are umpteen
Boredom gets beyond belief
And his language is obscene.

The little frog – yes that is a relief
You’d think would be nice and clean
In the water he is the God, the chief
No wonder he is a funny shade of green