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cheryl love Feb 2014
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?
cheryl love Oct 2014
Is it really considered high treason
In this lovely food gathering season
To not collect the sloes in
to make lovely Christmas gin
I could not think of a better reason.
cheryl love Dec 2014
Lift the blanket and peep out
The rush of wind hits the socket
a finger dares to explore the cold air
That gets shoved back in the pocket.
Oh it is oh so cold out there
I can hear the wind rush round the trees
I wonder if Jack Frost has been
I can now feel the cold around my knees.
Well take the bold step and out I pop
from the safety and warmth of my bed
A quick dash here and a quick dash there
Pull on the nearest warm thing and off I shoot
To the kitchen for my tummy to be fed!
cheryl love Oct 2013
Oh what a high ceiling
And look how the paint’s peeling
I’ve got a wonderful feeling
That you’ll have to dig deep and pay.

Oh and the clothes want mending
Then its off to the washer I’m sending
And by the way thanks for lending
The money for me to do it today.

While you’re at it I will take a seat
While the nice lady buffs up my feet.
Then after my treat, I will eat
Chocolates upon a milky tray.
cheryl love Jul 2014
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.
cheryl love Nov 2015
Well as the title suggests it is not a chase
Quite possibly because running’s out of the question
And also they are not even involved in a race
No, not even the hint of an exercise session.

The story is as follows: if I can put it clear
The day started slowly, they were in hiding
He did not want to, as usual, interfere
And generally the atmosphere was
subsiding.

That was until she burst in through the door.
With a worried frown on her floury face.
noticed the Duck had his nose to the floor
And heard the chicks were not in the nesting place.

“Maybe they’ve hatched and walked off
”The Pig thought it obvious and straightforward.
The Hen spluttered a nervous type of cough
And out from his hiding place shot a worried bird.

“Oh dear, oh dear,said the Hen we will help you”
The Duck sprang into action  straightaway.
The Pig was saying no and had gone blue
Which was turning to an angry twitchy grey.

The Duck was pelting down the lane searching
Calling, enticing but no chicks were found.
Under his breath he was grunting
And heard the Pig suggesting they had drowned.

He slapped the Pig on his wig and frowned
He put his wing around the Hen and dried her tears.
Assured her that the chicks would be safe and sound
And said the Pig had only added to her fears.

He shot off again at a greater speed than before
His instinct came into play good and proper
Found the chicks and what is more
The Hen has adopted her star, her show stopper

The Duck a hero, was splashed on the news
The Pig hid behind the paper for a week
Where he had more than a little snooze
And the Duck’s goose chase was a winning streak.
cheryl love Aug 2014
Well as the title suggests it is not a chase
Quite possibly because running’s out of the question
And also they are not even involved in a race
No, not even the hint of an exercise session.

The story is as follows: if I can put it clear
The day started slowly, they were in hiding
He did not want to, as usual, interfere
And generally the atmosphere was
subsiding.

That was until she burst in through the door.
With a worried frown on her floury face.
noticed the Duck had his nose to the floor
And heard the chicks were not in the nesting place.

“Maybe they’ve hatched and walked off
”The Pig thought it obvious and straightforward.
The Hen spluttered a nervous type of cough
And out from his hiding place shot a worried bird.

“Oh dear, oh dear,said the Hen we will help you”
The Duck sprang into action straghtaway.
The Pig was saying no and had gone blue
Which was turning to an angry twitchy grey.

The Duck was pelting down the lane searching
Calling, enticing but no chicks were found.
Under his breath he was grunting
And heard the Pig suggesting they had drowned.

He slapped Mr Pig on his wig and frowned
He put his wing around Mrs Hen and dried her tears.
Assured her that the chicks would be safe and sound
And said Mr Pig had only added to her fears.

He shot off again at a greater speed than before
His instinct came into play good and proper
Found the chicks and what is more
The Hen has adopted her star, her show stopper

The Duck a hero, was splashed on the news
The Pig hid behind the paper for a week
Where he had more than a little snooze
And the Duck’s goose chase was a winning streak.
cheryl love Mar 2015
I am firing on all four cylinders and on my launch pad
feeling happy,  extreme bliss and absolutely fine.
Bursting with energy and I am remarkably glad
In fact you could say that I am heading for cloud nine.
cheryl love Nov 2017
Disappearing in the winds of time
Drowning in a sea of love
Beaming up with the moon beams
To somewhere unknown above
When up there if you get a chance
See the disappearing coast lines and bays
See the dwindling numbers of species
And then tell me what God says.
If you get a chance
Take note of all the plastic
floating in the sea of doom
See it ride with the tide
wash with the froth
see the effervesence combine with the foam
of the natural fizz of the salty drink
then realise what mess we are in
it really makes one stop and think.
One day when the seagulls fly
they will land on rock, no sea, no foam
there will be no earth as we know now
just plain boring rock, no life, just a shell
of former glory.
No white waves, no floaty clouds
just a memory.  One day.
k
cheryl love Jul 2017
One little drink
just for the road
I think not.
cheryl love Mar 2015
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.
cheryl love Apr 2017
This is an example of an onion that cried
His emotions having been pent up inside
He had said to his mate
"If I end upon a plate"
"I would rather be boiled than fried.
cheryl love Oct 2014
This year make your Christmas merry
In your trifle stick that lovely red cherry
on a thick layer of cream
Next to the angelica of green
followed by a splosh of extra dry sherry.
cheryl love Mar 2014
Whether you learn to keep your calm
or throw a wobbly type of panic
Where you choose to scream after
well that is optional.

Whether you choose to voice an opinion
or just to hold your tongue and stay silent.
But afterwards moan to yourself all day.
well that is optional.

Choosing your mid-week food shopping
whether it be best neck of lamb
or the most expensive cut of meat
well that is optional.

Being polite, knowing one's place in the room
Being nice and agreeable, the perfect host.
Being the nicest person in the world
That is important.
But for some optional.
cheryl love May 2017
Which way?
I have no idea.
Where are the options?
There are none.
Well I will carry on.
No good moaning
nothing left for groaning
Just turn left
it is the nearest to the heart.
What are the options?
They have gone.
Carry on.
cheryl love Nov 2015
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.

The pig 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 on 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 whatever the meal was called was gone
He did not enjoy the slop and once more had to pretend.
cheryl love Jul 2017
Out of the blue
he grabbed me
sent me from pillar to post
there was little to oversee
but I saw my ghost
it was the shadow of me
a year in which to come
there was little to oversee
just that I saw what I'd become.
I did not care for the vision
it scared me beyond my dreams
there was little to oversee
or so it seems.
Cant alter my past but
I can make a change to the present
could do nothing more than I did
and believe me it was not pleasant.
I grabbed my shadow and bent the rules
I surrounded it with a home truth
I told it I am not what I used to be
I had in fact altered my youth.
The shadow disappeared
out of the blue
and then it reappeared
it had made me brand new.
So my life has changed
just as if it was on cue
all of this happened
it was if it was out of the blue.
cheryl love Nov 2015
There are some rules to adhere to when painting a face
Study the personality and then stare into space.

Only draw what you actually see not what you think you see
Shake your arm and let those stiff bones wriggle free.

Now start at the windows to the soul, the precious eyes
think carefully of the shape, reflected light, the element of surprise.

Then follow the shadows carefully down as she goes
detailing slowly the outline of the structure of the nose.

Not too much detail at this stage carrying on further south
till you reach the delicate contours of the mouth.

Remember everyone has not got the perfect eclipse
just lightly shade in the shadow and movement of the lips.

Carefully leaving a gap to reveal beneath
the white of the paper for the perfect shining teeth.

Picking up more carbon from your pencil and begin
by shading the areas just below the chin.

These techniques dont come easily it does take years
especially when it comes to sketching the ***** and folds of the ears

Now finally when you think you are nearly there
bring the pencil to the top of the face and lightly sketch the hair.
cheryl love Feb 2015
**** the flour till its dizzy
Until it is fed up going round
with the egg to make it fizzy
and your feet have left the ground.
Splosh in the milk all creamy and white
wait till there appears bubbles on top
that is the time to give the old arm a rest
and to tell the mixture it's time to stop.
Now throw in a bit of oil to the pan
fire the old flame till it's blue in the face
drizzle the mixture in like its silk on sheets
and the kitchen becomes a cosy place.
Grab the handle of the pan and give the wrist
a quick sudden flick in the air
The pancake will leave the pan for a while
and probably land on top of your hair.
More often than not it lands back in the pan
cook for a further two moments or so.
Slide onto a plate with lemon and sugar
and now down the hatch it will surely go.
cheryl love Apr 2014
Eyes left
eyes right.
Stand to attention
On guard.
The ***** people
the purple parade.
The orange peelers
Ruby reds
the show stealers.
Jack in the box
complete with pale
green zip up socks
whiskers for lace
covered fur
Attention to you sir
***** people
violet markers
for my plot of land.
cheryl love Jun 2013
They had found paradise
Washed to the shore
Nothing else left to do
But walk, discover and explore.
Combing the white sand
Looking for treasure,
Something to devour
Mainly for pleasure.
No traffic here, no crime
No highway patrol
Nature has everything
Under strict control.
Driftwood, old tin trays
Dotted here and sometimes there
Brain not gone into melt down yet
Cells still under repair
No panic sets in, the loneliness
Has not hit hard
Still best to keep wits about
To keep on one’s guard.
Shells galore, with a no vacancy sign
Pinned to the outside
Better make early tracks
For the swelling of the tide.
Find some shelter, find food
Find warmth, make a fire
My skin erupts with panic
And starts to perspire.
My feet are being ripped to shreds
With sharp shells and flint
Somehow, to my amazement
That has given me a hint.
Never been in a situation like this
Can’t even go and ask a friend next door
Just look to sea and the sand
And if anything is coming to ashore.
cheryl love Jul 2017
I like a bit of passion me old fruit
even though you get on me pip
ooohh passion in a nice long drink
but be careful before you take a sip.
In all the excitement you might choke
so dont blame the seeds all on me
drink up and I will promise you tonight
this old fruit'll be on his bended knee.
cheryl love Apr 2015
I look back upon the patchwork
pieces of cloth saved during my life
from when I was tiny through my teens
and now that I am a wife.
Pieces of my life I call them
I remember each item well.
There is a story behind each and every one
Something for me to tell.
When I am old and have grandchildren
Stories of these pieces shall come forward
I hope they will sit and listen and
not get fed up with grandma and get bored.
For this patchwork is my life, a reminder of my days.
cheryl love Oct 2014
It starts to rain
Like the fizz has been removed
from my champagne.
A peach drips
from the tree.
Sticky sips
all over me.
But why does
a peach have fuzz?
Just an excuse
to explode its juice.
Its yellow flesh
At its peak fresh
Does the tree
whole heartedly agree
without the need to preach
when to evict the peach.
Time to say goodbye
when the twig is dry.
The hard backbone
its strange lined stone.
Nothing more to bring
as each amber flesh cling
drops to the ground.
A peach perfectly round.
cheryl love Aug 2013
After a stroll by the lake
They were in for a surprise
Nothing could forsake
The peach melba skies.

Tangerine, rosy pinks and melon
'streaking in the sky
With a dash of sorbet lemon
A feast for the eye.

Hot raspberry colours behind a cloud
Softens the mood, taking them in
Like a farmer’s face when he’s ploughed
The blood rising in his skin.

They held hand, hearts entwined
So much in love, he kissed
Her lips, held her hand behind
And stroked her delicate wrist.

She fell even more in love
With this man, her man, her life
He noticed the peach melba skies above
And begged her to be his wife.
cheryl love Mar 2014
These shaky fingers I possess
Can paint a fantastic tree
They serve their purpose I guess
It's how things are meant to be.
It is with love in my heart
That I cling on to some hope.
Maybe one day my fingers will be still
Not only will I be able to cope
But I will have a stronger will.
But then the tree will be straight
and it wont look at all realistic
But then the tree awaits its fate
I will not be apologetic.
So it is a toss up, straight or still
I really dont care if my fingers shake
I love painting trees on a misty hill
or the reflections around a lake.
That is settled then, perfection.
cheryl love Jun 2013
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.
cheryl love Dec 2016
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.
cheryl love Apr 2015
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.
cheryl love Sep 2014
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.
cheryl love Oct 2016
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!"
cheryl love Jun 2013
Pink eggs from red hens
Tails all cute and dandy
Pink bacon from pink pigs
Sweet as sugar candy.
Pink lamb from red sheep
Ready for a woollen sweater
Red face on a blue farmer
As he gets the dreaded red letter.
Red farm gone no more pink meat
Red wine now crushed with stained feet.
Land sold to make some gold
Making champagne sold as old
Pink and rose lovely and red
So now the feet are back to red in the bed.
cheryl love Apr 2014
PINK FARM TURNS TO RED
Pink eggs from red hens
Tails all cute and dandy
Pink bacon from pink pigs
Sweet as sugar candy.
Pink lamb from red sheep
Ready for a woollen sweater
Red face on a blue farmer
Getting the dreaded red letter.
No more farm, no more pink meat
Red wine now crushed with stained feet.
Land sold to make some gold
Now making champagne sold as old
Pink goes from blue to rich red
and the owner now sleeps well in his bed
cheryl love Dec 2014
I guess that I'm right
Assuming not a wish
whether it be a pink fish
or indeed a blue fish
They all end up the same
in my little white dish.
Splat in the pan
over hot oil
wrapped in foil
the best it can.
Then presented
Yes the fish slap bang in my dish.
cheryl love Oct 2013
He glances at himself a red tinge to his cheek
At least he has his health but he looks a freak.
“Am I supposed to be this shade” – he inspected a feather.
A parrot is not pink an wanted to be orange like a carrot
How much more he can take I am not sure
“I am a parrot and I am pink, put me out of my misery”
He wanted to be dyed and have you no sympathy.
He sat down and he cried.
His friend was there with him who had fallen from the tree.
He said to him at least he was slim not overweight like him.
The parrot sat in deep thought and it made him think
At the end of the day I am alive even if I am pink.
And pink is a nice colour!
cheryl love Aug 2014
Said Oliver gritting his shiny teeth.
Why he wanted more slop
More oats and cold water
The very thought would make me stop.
cheryl love Jul 2014
Letter boxes piller boxes
A poor finger that has bled
Tomatoes, rosy apples
Things to make a poem very red.

Toffee apples, sweet luch lips
A sweet path of which you are led.
Rich velvety roses to guide your way
Items to make your poem very red.
cheryl love Jun 2015
As the butcher writes “sale” with his bit of chalk
Shoppers watch with eyes just like a hawk
They all flew
to the front of the queue
To get their half price "special buy" pork.
cheryl love Jul 2017
Over by the old church spire
sits a very noisy woodpecker
fluffing his plumage for all to admire
this little chap is a wrecker.

The dark mysterious crow
knows the woodpecker drills holes
but he is more interested in the meadow
and the land around which he controls.

The magpie however is a smart guy
sitting in his black and white uniform
he only needs a lens over just one eye
surveying his prey from his platform.

The little finch meanwhile
knows every little square inch
down to the smallest pile
of what he can pinch.

The pigeon, thick as two short planks
standing in the purple of the shadow
he knows the sort of pranks
they get up to in the willow.
cheryl love May 2017
Love is a precious thing
Hold on to it as much as you can
It definitely makes the old heart sing
I'm its biggest fan.
I dislike confrontations, splitting hairs
I would sooner just keep the peace
Whilst the other is kicking chairs
and his anger is on the increase.
Is it not easier to say "Oh well"
and just leave the situation be
it creates tension, a living hell
which is no good for him or me.
Love is a precious thing
hold on to it as much as you can
enjoy all the benefits it may bring
unless you have another plan.
cheryl love May 2017
Love is a precious thing
Hold on to it as much as you can
It definitely makes the old heart sing
I'm its biggest fan.
I dislike confrontations, splitting hairs
I would sooner just keep the peace
Whilst the other is kicking chairs
and his anger is on the increase.
Is it not easier to say "Oh well"
and just leave the situation be
it creates tension, a living hell
which is no good for him or me.
Love is a precious thing
hold on to it as much as you can
enjoy all the benefits it may bring
unless you have another plan.
cheryl love Nov 2017
Tip the scales
pour it out
let the stale, cold tea
unclog the spout
chop the onion
grate the mouldy cheese
dip the bird in sauce
cover its knees
soak the bread
spread with jam
chop the tinned pork
and fry the spam
scrape the dish clean
smeard with custard
better on bananas
then red hot mustard.
fetch the fish
from the crowded tank
fry it, boil it, bake it
now its hair's gone lank
quick hide the fat from the duck
its oozing and spilling out
shove the teabags into the ***
before they gush out the spout.
which do you prefer?
pudding or pie?
how would you like it?
wet or completely dry!
cheryl love Sep 2013
The petals swirl
The clouds curl
Hearts are called
The petals fall
crammed with emotion
of the purple potion
Spitting from veins
I am appalled
Still the petals fall.
They will drop
It will never stop
Lives lost, at what cost
the purple potion is dished out
they are all washed out.
I wish I could fast forward
their lives then replay the mistake
But it is like a piece of cake
Cut, gobbled then gone
and then the purple hearts
and in their rose clouds.
cheryl love Apr 2017
I walk into a room without thinking why
Why am I questioning myself I haven't a clue
I do silly things without reason, why
It is strange as I really wish I knew.
As I get older the days get shorter
Years turn into months so it seems
The hand on the clock is in denial I believe
Either that or it is in one of my dreams.
My hair has turned white under the radar
The old dye cannot be tricked anymore
Wrinkles fail to iron themselves out
the moisturiser has been shown the door.
The old age thing is creeping on too fast
Questions, forever questioning myself
where has time gone, where do seconds go
is there somewhere, some mysterious shelf.
It is like the shelf in my mind, the blank page
where things get put until the day I die
Then when my life flashes before me
I shall be demanding to know the old "why".
cheryl love Jun 2013
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.
cheryl love May 2015
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.
cheryl love Mar 2014
Colours of ruby, jasmine and pink
Pour into my window
Touching my soul, stroking my skin
Scorching the cheek of the peach
Warming the bird in the cage.
Bringing happiness within.
Pouring into the shadows
From violet to red.
Rays of sunshine.
cheryl love Mar 2015
The sheep are aware of the pink months looming
when pale rose petals adorns their head.
The rams huddled in the corner suspect things
as the ewes are ushered off to the shed.

Th ewes are carrying their lambs, nice and warm
little jumpy playful bundles of absolute joy.
The female of the species, however, for the moment
are acting a little somewhat coy.

Buttercups and daises await for the signal
to burst into their own spring like song.
The sun in its resting sky knows what is what
and the day starts to grow a bit long.

Lemon and lime shoots appear on the twigs
pink and rosy red buds appear in-between.
Thank the Lord for Spring, it is in the air
but the lambs do not seem at all keen.

They are born in a hurry, their legs hard to stand on
They are encouraged to be a grown up quite quick
No time for prancing joking or cuddled next to mum
Time for Spring things, the summer clock begins to tick.

The warmth of the next few days seals the deal
Coats off, sandals on and salad days are back
Bread and nice chunks of cake land in the pond
and for that the ducks say thank you with  a quack.

They have been smashing their beaks on ice for months
busy searching for little bits of food with no avail.
The squirrels are digging down deep with their family
looking for hazelnuts they buried on the trail.

It is all good;  on marches the beautiful warm months
with the promise of summer next, a big fat yes you cry
A smile has come to all of your faces that I know
but for now let us enjoy the end of winter, I guess.
cheryl love Jul 2013
A quote from an unknown person.
"We learn something from everyone who passes through our lives.
Some lessons are painful, some are painless, but all are priceless.

Reasons to be thankful.
Determined to care.
I am grateful
so pleased you are there.
Because if you weren't
I do not know what I would do.
Reasons to be thankful
and that is why I love you.
cheryl love Apr 2017
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.
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