For those famed in their titles proud and keen
in high esteem the public eyes behold,
whilst I, of lowly birth pass by unseen,
yet my gems are most treasured more than gold.
I see unrest and pain in wealth and riches,
a complex web of lies, deceit and rain,
yet none would have a need to do the dishes,
or beg for cash when nothing’s left to claim.
Or take up arms to fight protect and save
and die on foreign lands, so’s we are free;
or know the sadness of a soldiers grave,
to sacrifice oneself as guarantee.
So I am lucky not to go to war,
and live in peace with no wolf at my door.

I tire of fight, when my love desserts thee,
all that I held so dear has disappeared,
your word of rage was never meant to hurt me,
despite no explanation volunteered.

When faith is lost, a voice cannot be heard,
and doubt will creep into a lover’s heart,
until past joys are ****** into the dirt,
burned down to blackened ashes from the start.

And all that’s left is sorrow and regret,
misunderstanding feeds a shallow mind,
and opening the door too much a threat,
for honesty is now the purest kind.

When love can be rejected when it’s true,
then there’s no hope in giving love to you.

Not from the cards do I my fortune pluck,
and yet my luck seems adequately sweet,
I seek a higher ground to reconstruct,
my self esteem is much less than complete.

Now should I turn to drink, and drown my sorrow,
roulette would keep me up until the dawn.
Would tranquillising bring a new tomorrow,
or should my fate decide which path I’m drawn.

For lately love has turned into decay,
and broken every vow it undertakes;
the only solace left is my bouquet,
red roses and selection of cream cakes.

When playing cards a win is always mine,
but love can be so fickle ev’ry time.

A beautiful mind locked in doorless corridors
where repetition stabilises and calms.

A determined path of adventure into unknown waters,
then drowning when reality chokes optimism.

A blameless existence, where selective thoughts control,
and anxiety sabotages and destroys all things beautiful.

Joys pale into distant dreams . . . to the outside world normality prevails,
behind the curtain, a nervous tension builds and grips the spirit ******* out its life.

Sleep is usurped and any pleasure of tranquility is alluded.
An exhausted mind and body writhing in pain and falling into a bottomless pit.

No one can help,  No loving can change the hopelessness,
A behaviour that is repeated over and over in a cycle of torment.

Tranquillisers relieve the symptoms, but the episodes continue,
The ups and downs, the highs and lows, and the suffering is hard to observe.

A curse on glass, as it reflects true time,
and when we look we see life in decay,
a path ensures our ultimate decline,
the ticking clock that never will delay.

And so we try to cheat the image shared,
conceal our age, adorn our fake façade,
behind the mask the clock is still prepared,
to **** our time with its cold disregard.

No mirror can reflect the inner soul,
where timeless words are written on a page,
unique is ev’ry footprint on our stroll,
like great philosophers, we never age.

The clocks preserve the moment we embark,
reflections mean that we have left our mark.

There' s an Olympic runner called Mo,
Who had lots of get up and go,
He went for the gold,
And low and behold,
He won four medals in a row!

Red roses bring joy to our eyes,
Orange juice to quench our thirst,
Yellow sunshine fills our skies,
Green countryside in summer burst,
Blue is the feeling of our broods,
Indigo ink flows into writing,
Violet tastes are sweet and smooth,
and rainbows are exciting.

The Pals battalion,
Young soldiers of nineteen,
The total death toll reached a million,
On the Somme in nineteen-sixteen.

The men in splendid spirits,
There was optimism in the ranks,
With co-op bombs and bayonets,
Gathered on the sunny banks.        

The first bombs fell on Picardy,
Now they stood in lines to push,
They will annihilate the enemy,
No need to charge or rush.

But the German men were ready,
Their intelligence was good,
They knew about the enemy,
Their intention understood.

Our men walked into open fire,
So many lives they stole.
Shot and maimed before the wire
On their gentle morning stroll.

Bodies crushed in defeat,
In a field of flying lead,
Soldiers dropped to their feet,
Leaving many dead.

The slaughter would not stop,
In this futile ****** game,
All deserters would to be shot,
The only gain was being maimed.

Battle planning was inferior,
Senseless death was inhumane,
In the carnage and hysteria,
On the pretty red poppy plane.

A fairyland of undergrowth, with a damp musky air,
St Lawrence has a faithful oath, to cultivate and share.
A thrive of all alive, in lush green leaves of old,
The trees in mists sublime, inside a micro climate wold.

A secret world of organisms, multiplying million fold,
Where delicate microcosms, dare to be so bold.
This natural habitat, from seedlings very small,
Quenched by a water vat, chalk streams a waterfall.

Waterlogged muddy bramble slips away at will,
Fertilised to nourish, it's hard to keep it still.
Thatched cottages blend, among the evergreens,
Flowers wildly transcend, into unexpected scenes.

A house made of glass or stone, brick or thatched,
An array of different homes, wholly mismatched.
An under cliff protected, from wind and heavy rain,
Where settlers have constructed dwellings on delicate terrain.

Red rocky backdrops, contrasting in the light,
Emerald carpet covered tops, against a cliff of white.
A multitude of Cretaceous hidden footprint tracks,
Of pre-historic fossils providing us with facts.

Alum bay provides the candour, steep hill cove, the English day,
Black gang chine, the entertainment, screams above a silent bay.
The noise of nature's habits, where a gentle hush is heard,
Of scurrying little rabbits, or a cheerful songful bird

Home to Dickens and to Darwin, Carl Marx to name a few,
Alfred Lord Tennyson inspired by the picturesquely view.
The Osbournes, Alan Titchmarch, are living here today,
To escape from commerciality, and keep all fame at bay.

Well-trodden shutes take a stranger to the sea,
Along a Pirate's secret route to claim his offshore ******,
Time has not dissolved these perfect pretty scenes,
Well used in the past and still there to be seen.

A quiet friendly cloak, behind a rich and wealthy hive,
This isle of natural opulence, where many past events survived,
Ancient stone church steeples, where priests left their gold,
Built for religious peoples, as a refuge from the cold.

Take a step back in time, to unspoilt and unruly soil,
Where the elderly recline, in this haven for the Royal.
The Victorian architecture, preserved in perfect light,
An outlook of conjecture, is called the Isle of Wight.

Life is serious,
When freedom is at stake,
No time for frivolous comment,
Progress striving for a break.

He campaigned for the poor,
The persecuted blacks,
The fight against the white man,
Segregation were the facts.

Change was resisted,
Some died for the cause,
He was one to be respected,
And reluctant to use force.

Stubborn history of those,
Who would not budge,
Commanded by their forefathers,
To continue with the drudge.

But this man stood his ground,
Fought for freedom rights,
His ideas with a sound
Fairness in his sights.

Equality for all men
Regardless of their colour,
His heart was open,
For us to love one another.

Like a pretty bird
Colourful and bright,
Rage and jealousy,
Extinguished his bright light.

The Baptist Minister,
Changes he did bring,
Civil rights activist,
Was Martin Luther King.

She was born into poor deprivation,
With ideas higher than her station,
She landed a job,
As wife of the mob,
With riches way above expectation.

The **** like a panther prowls,
He hides in nooks and crannies,
Where he views his prey for hours,
With keen eyes fixed like trannies.
A playful pounce, may announce,
His attention to a need,
To catch a bird or little mouse,
With agility and speed.

The instinct never fails to serve,
Though doubtful he will eat,
Today's domestic feline verve,
Leaves dead birds at our feet.
To seek and **** with great prowess,
Is naturally on his mind,
With silent paws and callousness,
He will hunt until the find.

After a busy day stalking,
Gathering his stock,
Tired of all the walking,
He'll look at what he's got,
Then curl up by the fire,
Stretch his crawls and preen his fur,
Of his routine he'll never tire,
And he never forgets to purr.

Tomorrow through the flap,
A territory to mark,
No need for a map to set his evil trap,
Even when it's dark.
The underworld of cats,
Is here with us to stay,
Not always sat on mats,
He's out killing easy prey.

With pomp and ceremony, and hidden meanings, can,
Poetry with its snobbery, reach the common man?
He's never heard of Keats or cares about the word,
To live without the melody of poetry, is absurd.

Can a line of rhyme reach deep inside his mind,
Ruffle and disturb, bring him to his knees, this lucky find?
With a special message to penetrate his soul,
Enlighten his boring life, or is he dead as coal?

Can a phrase we raise, perforate his thick tough skin?
Encapsulate with heart-break his swinging brick within,
Lay him on his back to gaze at the stars above,
Smell the pretty flowers and hear the sound of Love?

Of course we can reach him, this is what we do,
All men have emotions which are hidden from our view,
One single word can be so profoundly clever,
Infiltrate the common man and steal his mind forever.







Poetry over the centuries has been written by men and women from all walks of life.
Poetry is for everyone.  Yet there is still a fear and a certain snobbery surrounding
poetry which prevents many from entering this world.

I questioned fate and found no answer,
As fate was unpredictable,
A doubtful fickle chancer,
Unstable and unreliable.

Reliable stability,
With chance I keep my date,
A fickle predictability,
Was my answer when I questioned fate.

Sometimes I have a yearning to see your face
Hear your voice and feel your embrace
The sun goes down and you are not here
Another night I spend without you near.

I imagine you walking through my door
Without an invitation, you also wanting more
But it is a dream I've had many times before
Something you have to feel inside your very core.

You are never coming without a plan ahead
Impromptu calling is not something in your head
You are resilient, so much stronger that I  
For I am folding without you here, and want to cry.

I often shed a tear for my circumstances
As you age, there are fewer chances
I learned that solitude has served me well
I have grown accustomed to my lonely hell.

I have learned to live and cope over the years
No longer dwell on my stupid lonely fears
I am destined to live alone and know this is my life
I am slowly learning how not to be a wife.

Soon I will recover and be independently single
Never wanting company, I will confidently mingle
Go home to my own bed and rest my head
And know that it is only by my own hand that I am led.

In analysing Time, I decided to escape,
fed up with ageing, so a pause I want to make
so I bought a book called, 'The Power of Now'
staying in the present, it would show me how.

Connect with my inner-self to stay inside my being
not thinking of the future, concentrate on what I'm seeing,
simple tasks to stay focused in the moment
the more I read, the more I liked involvement.

I learned to step out of time dimension
that the future is just a human invention,
no salvation in the past
only the present is built to last.

The mind is an obstacle as thoughts get in the way
not thinking about time, could start to waste my day.
the more I read the words, the longer I dwelled
and realised that Time indeed, could be held.

'Now' is all important, smelling and breathing
taking time to observe and connect with my being
living in the present, not thinking of the future
blanking out the past, not remembering a picture.

I am now brainwashed, cleansed and reborn
my problems are illusions and never even form
free from constraints of the ticking clock
my mind and body are free to run a mock. . .

When those too quick to judge and to deride,
Critics, who like the wind blow hot and cold
Extravagantly praise, bolstering pride,
Turn to abuse to stop you in your stride.
They are but loose leaves rattling in the wind,
Never settle or grow foundation seed.
Thrive on the swell and relish the rescind,
******* at life like leaches as they feed.
Never court or please those who praise or curse,
Ignore your critics as they soon disburse.

Time In Rhyme

Time. . . our life line,
Immeasurable joy,
Meticulously defined,
Everlasting as a boy.

Imposing and enigmatic,
Never ending tock.

Regulating tick.
Years begin to clock.
Hands of time crushing,
Memories into screams.
Ensure you use your time. . .
. . .to live out all your dreams.

My book is now available on Amazon!  
Dolly's Poems, "Time In Rhyme"

What I loved about you I've forgotten over time
That original loving spark will not come back to mind
The good times have gone, left me completely stunned
My heart's an empty bank, no love left in the fund

Your refusal to be there for me when I need it most
Has been the cause, of my all consuming ghost
Haunting me with thoughts of ending our romance
I doubt I can give our love a second chance

Too much muddy water has passed under our bridge
Tacky under foot setting hard like stale porridge
Sealing my emotions into one steady course
Leaving is the answer, and I'm filled with remorse

Grief devours my soul at the thought of losing you
My nightmares, are the arguments that always continue
The rocky path is strewn with disintegrated holes
Hard to walk upon the ground and need a firmer hold

So I carry on regardless and let indiscretions slip
Keep a low profile and dodge oncoming dips
Wondering what on earth is keeping this alive
You have become a habit which I keep at my side

You are my tormenter, my conscience and my muse
Seeing inside my head, and know I can't refuse
My future is unclear, but you see me coming back
Without you in my life, it's confidence I lack

Piercing through fluffy cloud
a warm volcanic rock
quietly sleeping in it's shroud
a mordant hidden clock

Dormant and alone it sleeps
inhabitants believe it's vow
promising not to leak
his secret lava pow

Like a lover who's been forsaken
patiently holds his burn
his heart remains unbroken
knowing I will return

From my silvery bird I see him
beckoning from the skies
the message is very clear
forgiving all goodbyes

His magnificence astounds
never failing to avail
like royalty it crowns
on a grandiose scale

Landing I know I'm home
reunited with mount Teide
never leaving me alone
it's malevolence always finds me

Torn in two by floating shadows
remembrance of your presence
hemmed in by haunting fellows
I smell a lingering essence

The air still offers promise
the ambiance of your soul
a foggy stirring grimace
leaving an empty hole

You may return to me
in dreams and knock my door
be real and let me see
no shadows anymore

But I hear no footsteps
only the silence of my mind
my heart penetrating depths
now lost and hard to find

Days descending into night
in dark drenching ways
bring me a torching light
as my shiny path decays

The shadows on my walls
dancing memories of the past
If only time would stall
relieve this numbing sap

Shrinking brink of life
as grief dizzily permeates
into a hell no one can know
a ******* soulless state

Consuming breath it shadows
mortifying in it's course
destroying as it furrows
suppressing all good thoughts



A dark poem reflecting on how I used to feel.  You never get over losing a loved one, but you learn to live with it......

Eye of bat and bowels of mice
Mixed into a cauldron cold as ice
Claw of rabbit, tooth of goat
Stir with a tale of a smelly stoat

Add two pints of stale perfume
Two rats whiskers and an ounce of misfortune
Ignite the mixture with a match
And burn it down to blackened ash

Gather the ashes and grind to powder
Add some Arsenic to make a chowder
Invite your enemies round for luncheon
No need to bludgeon with a truncheon

Sit back and watch the final show
Love your friends and **** all foe
This witches brew should do the trick
If they don't die they'll all be sick

An invite to a posh party
can't wait to meet old friends
dusting off my old high heels
not used to fashion trends

Hair in an up-do
wearing my Tesco dress
lipstick matching manicure
looking my very best

There are lawyers and barristers
doctors and millionaires
I look around into the crowd
catching all their stares

Wow it's been so long
since we saw your face
shaking hands and smiling
and accepting their embrace

I noticed one of the faces
an old flame from the past
he looked me up and down
his approval I surpassed

I think we can rekindled
our love may start anew
six years on we're going strong
the rest can join the queue

Pretty scarred and unloved when I met this man
his kindness touched my heart, I said, love me if you can
and love me he did for 30 years and more
he touched my soul caressing it, until he made it whole

I was unforgiving, hard and soulless back
we married and I loved him but something I did lack
I'd been punched, kicked, abused, as I was growing up
was in a sorry state when this man offered me his cup

I was soothed and smothered, with a love I never knew
fought back tooth and nail, hid my inner self from view
but he was patient and loyal, had a heart of gold
when I was upset, I had his hand to hold

A love like no other was afforded to me alone
his texts of love he left for me on my mobile phone
before then he wrote love notes, left them on my car
how he had missed me, I was his shining star

As time passed, I mellowed, and I let him in
he warmed my heart and caressed my sorry soul within
he had faith in me and was proud of all I did
calling me his angel with all he had to give

He sadly passed away long before a good man should
part of me died inside, grief took my mind for good
after many years without him, I miss his cheerful face
he was my rock, my love, my heart, and he was my grace

The mountain piercing through the cloud
warm volcanic rock
quietly sleeping in it's shroud
this mordant hidden clock

Dormant and alone
she clutches to the centre
inhabitants understand her goal
she is no longer their tormenter

Rugged and timeless the mount appears
exuding a natural calm
serene are the sweet tears
as if she's reading psalms

From my silvery bird I see her
beckoning me from the skies
her message is very clear
never telling any lies

The landmark I have come to love
promising many leisures
the people, the life, I see above
exulting many treasures

Landing I know I am home
reunited with mount Tiede
never leaving her alone
her tentacles always find me

It can be a tough world
sharks stalk in every crevice
bearing their teeth
to pounce on any novice

Beware of fools who challenge
armed with guns and sticks
they are filled with malice
may start throwing bricks

Be true to yourself
believe in truth not lies
don't be drawn by devils
who flaunt and fantasise

He comes in many guises
with charming ways to greet
his sting will be alarming
and turf you off your seat

Cunning like a fox
to infiltrate your family
but years of loyal trust
see through evil profanity

Trust is a rare commodity
like gold when it is found
loyalty ruminating
within the golden crown

Never trust the devil
kick his hide behind
stab him in the chest
for he has an evil mind

Keep your friends close
enemies behind the fence
you have the winning vote
let the battle commence

Decaying graveyard flowers
rotting time down drains
painful memories sour the day
and only grief remains

The fading light gives way
to death's dark shadowed wake
and roses fall from loving arms
too weak to undertake

Veils cover bloodshot eyes
and whimpers turn to sobs
mourners fill the church inside
another soul's been robbed

For death denotes finality
fading time will stop
the cemetery houses many men
buried prone in their plot

There's no avoiding time's
ruthlessly ticking clock
the secret is to live your days
as if tomorrow's locked

But death is a certain path
befalling all us mortals
rejoice in life and live
realising all potentials

My drive took me to Malvies
Along a rough French road
A perfect sight delighted me
Natural sun dials stood in rows

Fields of velvet brown eyes
Looking at the sun
Gently swaying in the breeze
Halos circled every one

Like soldiers to attention
In unison with each other
The sunflower community
Are like sister and like brother

Yellow sunshine petals
Gold coins in the rough
Famously inspired
In pictures by Van Gough

My hair flowed in the wind
Breathing in the freedom
Happy faces welcome me
inviting me to see them

Sun dials follow shadow
Sunflowers pursue the sun
Gazing up to the sky
Absorbing life they've won



Inspiration:

Malvies is a very small village community near Limoux in the South of France.  I spent many Summers there and when in season, the drive takes you through amazing fields of Sunflowers which are a spectacular sight.

Ignite the sparkling fire in you
never doubt it's existence
a spirit vibrant shining through
with a cast iron resilience

Bring forth all fervour
strike a chord, stand by beliefs
state case and cause
don't hold back........release

Don't let vigour die in prime
ignore the critics lousy rhyme
allow your soul to sound it's chime
ring aloud to have it's time

Don't dim your ray, go have your say
let you be you and sod the crew
fight bullish men who stamp on stars
with iron rods and steel clad bars

Strong fires are hard to douse with words
a will so strong, no man can hurt
the flame of passion resolute
a challenge to any brute

A vibrant spirit shining through
with cast iron resilience
ignites a sparkling fire in you
never doubting it's existence

The life resplendent in my womb
of promise for the future
bringing life from it's cocoon
a path which I shall feature

Genes live on in veins of babes
continue to replicate
since we started out in caves
mortality does placate

A seed to plant and see it grow
the reason we came to call
rebuff this path and die you shall
there will be no rolling ball

A Promise of a future
resplendent in my womb
where I shall surely feature
breaking out of my cocoon

We witnessed the inevitable
believe it, we did not
it wasn't even charitable
something we could not stop.

The fade of night to morn
departing with a sigh
a fateful early dawn
his soul drifted to the sky.

Weeping we asked why
good men have to die
so much left to do
all we could do was cry

Vows we undertake
to keep his spirit near
we will not forsake
our thoughts were very clear

Deep in each of us
his kindness always stays
he never made a fuss
his love was true always

Trying to be charitable
believing, we did not
but it was inevitable
his death we could not stop.

Tears,
the residue of painful memory
or loving far too much
woeful sad regret
or loss of someone's touch.
A period of despondency
malaise as grief takes hold
despair or intervention
of life's tormenting scold.
A never ending game
of challenging events
no wonder tears are shed
through ducts they circumvent.
Crocodile tears are soulless
never worth a mention
genuine tears will flow
in times of extreme tension.

I walked, my feet on air and purposeful
the outlook, heavy rain, and I'd been misunderstood
tears stained my cheeks, I couldn't stop the flow
all seemed lost in argument, I didn't want to go.

So I walk, my mind buzzing with words unspoken
ringing in my ears, promises I thought were broken
everything unclear and totally confused
finding a solution, as my temper fumed.

Treading steps in darkness, not knowing where to go
fusing words together, and piecing what I know
a future ****** by actions in a fit of peak
searching through the remnants left me feeling weak.

I turned, and started walking back
feeling much calmer after searching through the facts
loving someone else much more than yourself
can be consequentially detrimental to your health.

My walk, the air cleared away the pain
my subsiding temper had dried up all the rain
losing what we'd worked for was a heavy price to pay
my therapeutic walk was designed to find my way.

I walked, my feet on air and purposeful
seeing much more clearly now, we both misunderstood
dried my tears realised that both of us were wrong
my footsteps quickened, as I knew where I belonged.

Three
people  in
this  void, all
will  be  annoyed,
one  is  in  the  dark,
two  hold  secrets  that
are  cold,  three  will  be  in
pieces,  one  wears  a
blind fold, two have
been cheating,
all    parties
have been
sold.

Life is a bouquet of roses
thorns spike the bumpy ride
perfume lingers in my dreams
the buds of life my pride

Many petalled layers
are the years I've loved and lived
the stems are the key players
those people I've been with

Facing proudly upright
flower holding all the rain
together there is unity
to combat any pain

Many different colours
the facets of experience
as the rose begins to age
it's beauty has no resilience

When the bouquet finally dies
a photograph you reap
of dried roses which are memories
the heritage that you keep

You undo me,
expose my fleshy wounds,
open up defences,
as I idly swoon.

Suspended by desire,
my breath is holding still,
ignite inside a fire,
burning at your will.

Vulnerable and naked,
walk into my heart,
embedded there's an arrow,
a piercing cupid's dart.

Seven men who carry a burden on their back
the sins of their fathers who adequately lack
ability to tackle tempting earthly things                                         
a heavy load is born and no solace does it bring

The first is Lustful Harry who desires sins of the flesh
never will he marry or nurture babes to nest
his needs are physical and he knows no other life
lustful thoughts and deeds only bringing strife

Gluttonous Georgie Porgy eats his way through cakes
gorging on sweet meats and plenty of fat he makes
drinking and eating all day and through the night
much too fat to walk and much too slow to fight

The third is Greedy Greta who never has enough
she hoards and always wanting more and more stuff
never being satisfied, gaining is her only plight
possessing everything fills her thoughts day and night

Lazy Larry likes to live life horizontal
lying on the coach or in bed is rudimental
his feet elevated never going anywhere
idle and slothful never moving from his chair

Wrathful Wally stirs up anger in his veins
always moody, his happiness is in chains
vengeful and hateful is the monster he's become
indignation and displeasure means he never sees the sun

Envious Enid resentful toward others
green are the colours of her lonely bed covers
jealous of her neighbours and envious of her brothers
her goal in life is ****** as she never quite recovers

The last is Proud Priscilla who has enormous self worth
dignified and haughty, excessively procured
too high and mighty to accept the hand of charity
inordinate self esteem amidst much insincerity

Her stem a rod of iron
proudly holds a pearl
a rose with many petals
flowering in the girl

Skin softened by the silk
of kindness in her veins
innocent and on the brink
of taking up the reins

Essences flow within
her beauty is unrivalled
flourishing into womanhood
declaring her arrival

Flowering rose of honesty
threshold of youthful verve
exceptionally stunning
blooming on the verge

Her perfume radiates
oozing from her heart
the rose intoxicates
with promise from the start

Flowing locks encompass
her graceful heavenly flare
not yet a woman
this pretty rose is rare

He didn't like what he'd become
pretence filled his soul
wanted to be someone else
reality left him cold

He never owned a problem
blamed everything on others
always hiding in shame
cowering under covers

Learning to manipulate
wanted the advantage
his veins filled with hate
often with a bloodied leakage

Grievances held years
spewing out in fjords
causing many others tears
on hurting he would gorge

Until one day his actions
were brought to book
when he lost his only son
this forever change his look

Bitterness ran rife within
no stone remained unturned
a shrivelled heart left bleeding
was what his actions earned

Poking through my neighbours fence
a climbing vine on smart ascent
tearing through the wooden slat
this winding spiralling acrobat

Overnight there's no curfew
it grew and grew and grew and grew
until it reached the bricks and mortar
nothing stopped it's path of slaughter

Pulling stones from their beds
it carved right through my old tin shed
this triffid is unstoppable
it's destruction is unfathomable

As I worked in my study
it tapped my window, I got worried
a leafy twig forcing entry
the grapevine fulfilling it's inventory

Next day the garland green and raw
spread across my own front door
tentacles ripping out the frame
the climbing plant drove me in sane

It penetrated through my loft
and had more stealth than Lara Croft
crept down to my sitting room
my temper bubbling to a fume

I quickly drew my secateurs      
chopping off one of it's ears
then slashing with my pen knife
before it wrapped around my wife

It was too late to stop the plot
the wine grew strong and tied it's knot
pinning me against the mat
and strangled me in a twisted plait

Seven men who carry a burden on their back
the sins of their fathers who adequately lack
ability to tackle tempting earthly things                                         
a heavy load is born and no solace does it bring

The first is Lustful Harry who desires sins of the flesh
never will he marry or nurture babes in the nest
his needs are physical and he knows no other life
lustful thoughts and deeds only bringing strife

Gluttonous Georgie Porgy eats his way through cakes
gorging on sweet meats and plenty of fat he makes
drinking and eating all day and through the night
much too fat to walk and much too slow to fight

The third is Greedy Greta who never has enough
she hoards and always wanting more and more stuff
never being satisfied, gaining is her only plight
possessing many things fills her thoughts every night

Lazy Larry likes to live life horizontal
lying on the coach or in bed is rudimental
his feet elevated never going anywhere
idle and slothful never moving from his chair

Wrathful Wally stirs up anger in his veins
always moody, his happiness is in chains
vengeful and hateful is the monster he's become
indignation and displeasure means he never sees the sun

Envious Enid resentful toward others
green are the colours of her lonely bed covers
jealous of her neighbours and envious of her brothers
her goal in life is ****** as she never quite recovers

The last is Proud Priscilla who has enormous self worth
dignified and haughty, excessively procured
too high and mighty to accept the hand of charity
inordinate self esteem amidst much insincerity

There's no sophistication in the raw life of men
the ****** birthing pain of entering our den
enduring all emotions and ******* turbulence
there's no sophistication in War rememberance

There's no sophistication in being up the junction
innocently learning basic ****** function
the youthful years pretending none of it exists
the sophisticated people with whom we pit our wits

There's no sophistication in the finality of death
the worn out decrepit bodies of the elderly in debt
wasted starving africans and third world poverty
there's no sophistication in no liberty or money

Do why do we pretend that all is hunky dory
sophisticated society is a glory story?
can't we be honest, and support our neighbour
or are we too sophisticated for human behaviour

Paint will bring the colour
the brush defines the stroke
the edges of the picture
are the borders I provoke

Step inside a world
of golden honeyed syrup
a sweet array of memories
of lives contained within it

A photo full of laughter
scenes of purity are cast
a family close together
a connection built to last

A unit self contained
a uniquely crafted web
filled with happy times
is all that can be said

In the chaos of the moment time forgot
amidst a crowded room their eyes connected
the stillness of the bond stopped the clock
a path to destiny they both selected

In each other's arms their fortune set
neither knowing what future would befall
the fatal moment they did connect
and doom inscribed the writing on the wall

A whirlwind of emotion was encouraged
exhilaration and excitement fuelled the fire
physically bonding into marriage
the magnetism strong and held by wire

No one else mattered outside their world
entwined in devotion and betrothal
she yearned for freedom and new friends
fusing together began to be less social

A green eyed devil wove a shroud
destructively wielding it's hefty power
warning signs were ringing very loud
his blows lashed out and made her cower

She tried to understand his controlling fear
but his mind unstable and on fire
all that she loved and held dear
was now rotting on a funeral pyre  

One day she innocently took a call
betrayal was clear he took his gun
she could not run or even hide
one shot was all it took to stun

In the chaos of the moment time forgot
a path of destiny he had selected
the stillness of the moment stopped the clock
in her dying moments their eyes connected

A little pink bow depicting gender
fascinate co-ordinate with splendour
traditional baby boy in blue
who decided on the different hue?

What if we didn't get it right?
the girl in pink is much too bright
what if the girl just will not bend
to a traditional english girlie trend

Or a boy who loves to play with dolls
his kind and gentle ways not wrong
no one can predict our soulful gender
shining through so loving and tender

Acceptance by society is paramount
not to shun and be locked out
where your own colours with pride
a vibrant personality should never hide

Put your girls in blue and give them tools
pink shirts for boys and girlie toys
steer your children on the path to freedom
don't force stereotypes, they don't need 'em

Whatever we are born with stays the same
give everyone a chance, what's in a name
next time you see a man dressed as a girl
everyone has the right to wear pearls

Never judge by what you see
underneath the mask there is a key
a smile will undo all the locks
who decided only girls should wear the frocks?

Embrace the people and their zones
the self righteous pr**ks can stay at home
wear whatever makes you tick
it's cynics and critics who are the sick

Freedom to wear what you like
on the beach
in the supermarket
or at night

Guys get those dresses on, we'll share
we'll help with make up and do your hair
heels go up to bigger sizes
embrace colours and styles in different guises


(Dedicated to Grayson Perry)
Challenging and smashing narrow minded traditional boundaries.

The jingle of my chimes brings comfort in the wind
caressing cheeks upon my face and soothing everything
a tranquility in the noise of rustling bells of metal
like a tuneful triangle allowing stress to settle

A ray of summer sunshine twinkles off one bell
the sparkle squints my eye and time begins to gel
slowing pace of life simmering where upon
my feet lift off the floor, elevated in the sun

Sweet strings swishing uniquely as they play
my mind is now drifting back to yesterday  
youthful dashing with no time for rhyme to tell
or contemplate the sounds of a stupid bell

Twilight years absurdly slow down every sound
nature's profound words are suddenly very loud
appreciating land, sea, sun and moon lit skies
memories and experiences indelibly immortalise

The jingle of my chimes brings comfort in the wind
caressing my mortal face and soothing everything
a tranquility in the noise of rusting bells of metal
a tingling sense of solace allowing stress to settle

A ray of summer sunshine bounces off one bell
sparkles in my eye and time begins to gel
the pace of life slowly soldiering on
my feet as light as air elevated to the sun

Cascading melodic tinkling continues to play
my mind is now drifting to all our yesterdays
no time then to indulge the sounds of tinkling bells
or lie and contemplate a rhyme from the well

In my twilight years I listen to every sound
nature's every word is suddenly very loud
appreciating land, sea, sun and moon lit skies
memories and experiences indelibly immortalise

The presence of a certain mood
an undercurrent smouldering
gestures quietly observed
concentration hindering

Overtly calmly melancholic
a truth has been concealed
feelings are in turmoil
but nothing is revealed

Intense the sense of grief
held deeply in her soul
passively she sleeps
her heart no longer whole

No tears will ever fall
they are proudly held inside
she never makes a call
and in no one she confides

Distance long and wide
connection unsustainable
inward closing mechanism
defines the unexplainable

The smouldering undercurrent
of the present mood
quietly gestures inward
turning to a brood

Walking in my favourite nook
damp dead wood is under foot
bluebells in my ideal dell
honeysuckle makes my nostrils swell

Rose wood cones from cedar trees
the flies, the moths, and the bees
summer brings a happy breeze
pollen flying makes me wheeze

The Chaffinch sings his pretty song
harmonised melodies for the throng
twinkling trees of summer sun
woodpeckers beckon me to come

Berries plump and juicy ripe
fragrant herbs of every type
the heat beats down upon my head
further into the dell I'm lead

A rabbit burrowing out of sight
the ants are marching to their fight
dragonflies gracefully float
beetles plod and termites gloat

Breathing freely smells of old
wild Gardenia white and bold
lush green foliage everywhere
the nook is home to many there

Sweet wild baby's breath in rows
decor bordering the hedgerows
my country walk exhilarating
this July day is scintillating

I'm filled with essences of the Summer
being here is such an honour
taking stock of delightful days
before the long cold Winter phase