An Eskimo in an igloo
Wrote a poem or two
But he couldn't get
The internet
So nobody ever knew

Hole in the roof
Bit of a panic
Wouldn't be good
Snow in the attic
So I fixed it right away
Sent a bill
He didn't pay

Ok I got it in the end
Some time later hello friend
Need some work done
Will you quote

That I won't I fairly bristled
This time 'friend'
You can whistle

If you were here beside me still
With weather fine and time to ****
We could go strolling on the shore
Believing in eternity once more
And, perhaps, one day we will

So stubborn is this mournful chill
And hard to climb this unforgiving hill
My soul would be at peace, not war
If you were here...

We cannot chose to live or die at will
Or all our hopes and dreams fulfill
We let imagined gods keep score
And cannot change what went before
But what a tonic, what a thrill
If you were here...

In the cold grey light of the sixth of June, in the year of forty-four,
The Empire Larch sailed out from Poole to join with thousands more.
The largest fleet the world had seen, we sailed in close array,
And we set our course for Normandy at the dawning of the day.

There was not one man in all our crew but knew what lay in store,
For we had waited for that day through five long years of war.
We knew that many would not return, yet all our hearts were true,
For we were bound for Normandy, where we had a job to do.

Now the Empire Larch was a deep-sea tug with a crew of thirty-three,
And I was just the galley-boy on my first trip to sea.
I little thought when I left home of the dreadful sights I'd see,
But I came to manhood on the day that I first saw Normandy.

At the Beach of Gold off Arromanches, 'neath the rockets' deadly glare,
We towed our blockships into place and we built a harbour there.
'Mid shot and shell we built it well, as history does agree,
While brave men died in the swirling tide on the shores of Normandy.

Like the Rodney and the Nelson, there were ships of great renown,
But rescue tugs all did their share as many a ship went down.
We ran our pontoons to the shore within the Mulberry's lee,
And we made safe berth for the tanks and guns that would set all Europe free.

For every hero's name that's known, a thousand died as well.
On stakes and wire their bodies hung, rocked in the ocean swell;
And many a mother wept that day for the sons they loved so well,
Men who cracked a joke and cadged a smoke as they stormed the gates of hell.

As the years pass by, I can still recall the men I saw that day
Who died upon that blood-soaked sand where now sweet children play;
And those of you who were unborn, who've lived in liberty,
Remember those who made it so on the shores of Normandy.
____________

There was a magician from Bath
I couldn't help but laugh-
While performing his magic
His act turned quite tragic-
He sawed his assistant in half

The little red car bobbing down the lane
Zipping thru the countryside
Waiting at the lights
Parking up between the lines
Is so much more than a little red car

With sympathetic hands she mends the wounded
Sends them on their way
Fights her corner with the managers in their pointy shoes
Lends a sympathetic ear
Saves lives

Makes her way back to the little red car
Thinks about her day, her family
Passing green hedges
Noticing the sunset
Looks forward to a cup of tea
As the little red car bobs back down the lane

Wags from the dog
Jen's home

There was a vicar from Crewe
Whose congregation were few
To make amends he brought in his hens
And they all lined up on a pew

Then he compiled an avian choir
(For the singing voice of the hens was dire
And the only song the cockerel knew
Was ****-a-doodle-do)

The church fell silent as we heard
The Lord is my Shepherd from the minor bird
The vicar invited us to pray
And we got the Lords Prayer from the African grey

There followed a rendition of psalm thirty four
Performed without fault from the tenor macaw
The parakeets squawked and scratched their fleas
As they jumped up and down on the ***** keys

The vicar was thrilled it was going so well
The geese gave a honk as they pulled on the bell
But then there appeared right at the back
An evil sparrowhawk poised to attack

Calamity reigned inside the church
The African grey fell off his perch
The first to escape was the tenor macaw
As fast as he could through the open door

The chickens shrieked and went home in a flap
The minor bird had a heart attack
The geese walked away back to their pen
And the church fell silent once again

Lottie lived in an old pebble-mashed cottage in the middle of nowhere, with a ***** muzzle tree in the garden. She always wore white glubbs on a Sunday, and going to mumble sales was her favourite pass-time.

  All year round a lyre would smoulder in the gate, as the house was not connected to the lucidity grid, which Lottie considered the work of the davel. She liked to recite Shakespeare to her clogs but as she got older would mix up her worms and get her lettuces in the wrong order. At times I was the only one who could stand on her.

   There was a lovely orchard out the back in which all kinds of baffles, tums, bears and cheeses grew. She made the best crum plumble you never tasted.

  She loved her macaroni wireless, the old type powered by molluscs, although in latter times she accepted my gift of an up to date transittor with a built-in bat pack.

  We would ***** away many an hour as she reminisced about her youth, when she had traveled far and wide in the grand old days of steam *****.
  
  Lottie kept all her marbles right up to the end in an old sweet jar, kindly leaving them to me when she passed. So now it's up to me to carry the mantelpiece.  Dear old Lottie was unusual, but I liked her concentricity.

There's no one quite like Lottie
I'm sure you will agree
To some she didn't make much sense
But she always did to me

His expertise was knots
His profession to garrotte
If his wife should say
"Did you have a good day?"
The conversation stopped

I hope you notice the expression in my song
Unlike that chiff-chaff over there
I try my best to be mellifluous when I sing
Not like him, not like him

Winter's gone and here we are hee hee
Hee hee
What shall we do now
Come on dear, I think you know
What we should be doing now
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You're a brave bird and so beautiful
Just right for me,  now do a twirl
Do a twirl !
And I'm the only blackbird in the world
You need
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

You made it through the arduous
Ar-du-ous winter
Just like me, just like me
Brave bird!
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

My wife's a lovely brown
She's hiding in the hedge
I love to sing do you?
We built a nest we did, we did!
So don't forget to look the other way
If you should venture over here
It would be such a waste of time
To have to do it all again

This place belongs to me!
My wife is here
We're trying for a family
She laid some lovely eggs
Blue they are, she sits on them to keep them warm
But it's a secret, it's a secret
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

I hope you notice I try to vary my song
Mix up and blend the notes so as not to bore
And if it sounds like I'm trying to tell you something
Ex-plain something
That's because I truly am

I try to sound interesting
When I sing
Not like him
Mell-if-lu-os-ity is my favourite word
I made it up
I'll sing it, I'll sing it!

I never thought of you as a killer
But I guess it's different when it's yourself
Builders go bust all the time
But you went out with a bang

The last time we met you were behind me at the check-out
Your posture upright, proud as always
Towering, gazing over my head
I can only imagine the tide of emotion that must have overwhelmed you

You have occupied my thoughts these last few days
God only knows what it has done to your wife and dear old mother
No doubt those words will be used
While the balance of his mind was disturbed

They say you had no money for the wages
Richard, this was not the solution
So sad, so sad
You've made us all so sad

Death's embrace comes often to this place
By bullet gas grenade or shell
Or some other kind of hell

Every village, every town
Sends out their sons to be cut down
For so many good young men
It's how the nightmare ends

In these once tranquil foreign fields
Skylarks sing and blood-red poppies grow
But now the only harvest here
Is pain and death and sorrow

We lost some men but gained some ground
In a dawn attack
By sunset we had lost some more
When they took it back

All night we listened to the wounded groan
Out in no man's land alone
God in heaven make it stop
All we want is home

I passed a milestone on the way
Exactly when, I cannot say
Maybe where the grass grew long,
Or when the wind blew extra strong
I passed it though, of that I'm sure
That one's gone, but there will be more

many
many  more

I'm just a little apostrophe
So won't you please be nice to me
Use me when there's a letter missed out
Or when it's possession you're talking about
But when you write plurals just leave me out!

For many years we have stood side by side
Unthinkable to contemplate your loss
If you should leave, bereft we would abide
And both of us must count the heavy cost
We have not always been the best of friends
I know you feel our union was forced
But all those ****** battles had to end
Since then do our achievements count for nought?
The whole is better than the sum of parts
Oh Caledonia, it's up to you
Is our historic partnership to last
Or do we have to bid a friend adieu
  By voting, not by battle you decide
  Remain, or by the claymore sever ties

So I said to this German chappie
If there were ten green bottles hanging on the wall
and one green bottle should accidentally fall
how many green bottles would there be
hanging on the wall,
you do speak English?
Nein he said

So I turned to this Frenchman I said
There's a strange smell around here
Don't you think?
He said  oui
I said I think you're right old son

Just as the horizon was at it's brightest yellow
Before the light began to really fade
I stood and watched the daily starling show
Staged it seemed just for me

How privileged I felt to see
Our very own murmuration
Circle, tightly in a group
Morph into a jet fighter
Then a fragile bi-plane
Direction changing overhead
I heard their wings a lovely sound
As they circled round

What perfect choreography
To soar and dive, flip and twist
And as they passed a clump of firs
Some filtered down
Dropping as if poured
Each new pass some more

The last few, five or six
Carried on just as fast
Until they too went down

The show was over for another day

Great news Marjorie!

I have had tasar treatment on my eyes, so I am finding my keyboard much easier to abuse.

What a week I have had!  Since you sent my letter to the local paper, I have had several people contact me. I had no idea the scribbles of an old woman like me could generate such interest. A young reporter  even called round, and I thought I was going to have to call an ambulance, the poor boy went red and laughing all the time. In fact I was certain he needed medical attention but he assured me he would be fine in a minute. He did not tell me what it was he found so amusing, but young people can be quite strange, don't you find?  He may have needed the toilet but was too shy to ask.

Despite this we did get on well, and he even said he wished I was his Grandma, which I thought was very sweet of him, while making odd gestures with his hands.

After we had enjoyed a mice cup of tea together I showed the young man around the garden and he seemed very interested in the greenhouse, remarking on its spaciousness. I asked if he had green fingers and rather enigmatically he replied  'sometimes'.  He enquired if I would be interested in renting it out to him, an idea I found rather appealing. I think he wants to grow salad plants for his family.  My faith in the younger generation is restored.

His mobile telephone rang while we were in the garden, and feeling it was rude to eavesdrop I went back into the kitchen, but I did overhear him say that he hadn't had so much fun since his granny died,  so I suppose they must have given her a good send-off.

I am rather enjoying my position as a minor celebrity in the village. Even the bus driver was more cheerful than usual today, so I smiled and gave him a cheeky little w*nk as I got off, and I'm sure he noticed it.


                                        Ever your devoted fiend,           Dottie  **

Seems so long ago, Nancy     (Leonard Cohen)

It seems so long ago, Nancy was alone
Looking at the Late Late Show through a semi-precious stone
In the House of Honesty her father was on trial
In the House of Mystery there was no one at all
There was no one at all

It seems so long ago, none of us were strong
Nancy wore green stockings and she slept with everyone
She never said she'd wait for us although she was alone
I think she fell in love with us in nineteen sixty-one
Nineteen sixty-one

It seems so long ago, Nancy was alone
A forty-five beside her head, an open telephone
We told her she was beautiful
We told her she was free
But none of us would meet her in the House of Mystery
The House of Mystery

And now you look around you
See her everywhere
Many use her body
Many comb her hair
And in the hollow of the night when you are cold and numb
You hear her talking freely then
She's happy that you've come
She's happy that you've come

There was a poet who suffered a lot
From what we all know as writers block
He lifted his pen, dropped it again
And that's as far as he got

We fixed your heart, it's all spare parts
Your liver ugh, we threw away
This one's new, the one we grew
It's going in today

Those wobbly wonky worn-out knees
Let's consign them to the past
With these bionic ones you'll see
You'll run twice as fast

Need new eyes? It's no surprise
We have all you need and more
Take your colour and your size
Down to our new store

Your genome's on our database
There's nothing we can't do
So come on down, no time to waste
It's everlasting life, guaranteed for you

.                    .                               .                 .            
              ,                                  , ­                           ,
             /                                  /                               \                                 ­   .  
           /                                    a                               \                       
        ­   I                                cascade                        no                               .
        want                                of                 ­           wish                                 \   
       to see                              warm                         no                   
      a silent                            light                         prayer                                no
       choir                             radiate                         just                     .          thing          wave                              from                     ­       for                    /\           else
        and                                 the                             fun                   at           will
     curtsey                            corner                       candles             times         do
--------------------------------------------------------------­--------------------------------------------

Five steps or five thousand                                        
Her gait is just the same

Poets, painters
Can be tortured souls

But gardeners
Are at one with the world

No screens flash
No keyboard clicks

A woman she must prove her worth
Hood up, body bent
Her conversation polite

But minimal
Her gaze steadfast
Down to earth

Her gloved hands
Coaxing life from the bedraggled
Winter flower bed

Santa brought no toys so...
... I play with words instead



She passed her driving test
on Christmas eve....
               ...No-L celebrations!

Here comes weirdy beard again
Bright red cheeks, bright red hat
** ** ** and all of that
Riding on his sleigh

I'll ignore him for a bit
It's only one more day
Just don't make a thing of it
And he'll go away

But now the fever's getting strong
Resist as try I might
With jingle bells I hum along
That's it, I've lost the fight

the elephant in the room....  
...you need to lose weight


unrealistically optimistic
focuses on goals
ignores pitfalls
stumbles
astonished
fails


we could argue
we could fight
but not tonight
josephine


Now how about
some Leonard Cohen
from memory
happy christmas

His outburst left her flattered alright
They still kind of get along
She still calls by quite often at night
Even after he told her his feelings were strong

She had to say your chow mein's very nice
And you've not done anything wrong
But for me you will never be Mr Right
I'm terribly sorry Mr Wong

She's so happy with the teeth dear
Now they're perfect,  pearly white
And she's looking at the rest dear
'Cos she's heard of Mack the Knife

It's those crows feet round the eyes oh
Keep those ******* way out of sight
And those wondrous thunder thighs oh
They're going under Mackey's knife

She's been thinking of her friends babe
Dearest Lotte and sweet Lucy Brown
Oh how jealous they will be babe
Once old Mackey's gone to town

She's withdrawing all her cash now
She'll be poor but look so right
Someone's taking all her stash now
And that someone's Mack the Knife

No words of mine are good enough
I am happy you are free again

He longed to hold the melons she'd got
And taste the bright red, ripe-red cherries on top
He yearned to reach for her succulent peach

But would it alarm her
To show her too soon
His bent banana
And two little prunes?

I've had enough of all this wind and reindeer
We otter go away
Holidays are important, my parents tortoise that
Weasel have to look on the internet
You know I can't bear the heat
But here's a spa hotel where I'm sure they would panda to your every need
Alpaca suitcase right away

Toothpaste tube, cattle class
Purple stripes, rows of lights
A newly formed castle white
In concrete, steel and glass

Cloud-high halls, giant pots
Re-charging bodies strewn around
Turning deeper shades of brown
Volcanic sand, hot black rock

We watch a floating city, blazing light
Like a dying star, fade into the night

                        -

Ali, where do these bananas go?
What kind of tree is this?
How far does this levada flow?

Ali takes the tourists out
He throws some breadcrumbs in the water
He likes to feed the trout

Madeira born in forty five
Ali told me many things
Ali, our levada walking guide

His family was very poor
He collected mussels from the shore
And sticks to burn for heat
For today his mother said
I have no food and we must eat
We have to eat

Ali, where are all the vines?
How long before your boots wear out?
Do you drink the local wine?

Do the tourists drive you mad
With all the questions that they ask?
Ali smiles, shuffles us aside
To let some others pass

Paddy's faithful workhorse
It broke down by the gate
And he had forty acres
To plough and cultivate

Paddy lived all alone
Now that was a fact
So he wrote an advert
Somewhat lacking tact

WIFE REQUIRED URGENTLY
A MOST IMPORTANT FACTOR
IS THAT THE APPLICANT
SHOULD POSSESS A TRACTOR
AGE UNIMPORTANT, COLOUR DOESN'T MATTER
PLEASE ENCLOSE WITH REPLY PHOTO
OF SAID TRACTOR

I ain't goin' back to Maggie's farm no more
To thatch that old black barn
Already done it twice
Done that thing most my life
Someone else's turn now for sure

Ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother don't you see
He'll not be using me
Bought his wife an Aston Martin
For turning forty three
He couldn't even bother  
To make a cup of tea

It all seems so appealing
When you're young and fit
Thirty five years later
Feel I've done my bit

Been a faithful servant
Couldn't ask for more
Now I'm looking forward
To the final straw

My bike is still just fine
I've had it a long time
I rode it just the other day
It's the way it's been looked after
I used to go much faster than I do today

I got it when I was only ten
Could hardly reach the pedals then
It cost twenty seven pounds
From a shop in Maidstone town

It seems to know its way these days
To the pub and back
I shall never give my bike away
Or send it off for scrap

The evening flashes by
Just me and little bear
All calm
In control
Last week's reflections ripple
Next week's plans take shape
A pause between
As the fire smokes
Time to breathe before we start again

Really like the title
Poem's not worked out
If it does I promise
I'll give y'all a shout

Not one to visit graves
I find the dead poor company

I might look closer at the lichen
Or observe the yew tree canopy
Or read the names just to see how fashions change

But for those left lying there
I don't see them, they don't see me
One day I'll be like them
Scarce a memory

You can never conquer me
I won't be bought or sold
I can take away your looks
I can make you old

I can be the enemy
I can sit and bide
Always an enigma
Sometimes on your side

Ever am I constant
Slowly passing by
When you just forget me
That's when I can fly

You can mark my passing
With an anxious frown
You can measure
You can treasure
But never slow me down

A constant disappearing
Like footprints in the sand
You can try to cheat me
But you'll never beat me
I hold the winning hand

Explore the well-worn tracks leading to the mines
The stone-arched gateways to the shafts
The ruined smelt mills and the tips,
Remnants from a bygone time

Say a little thank you to the men who built and trod these paths
For their lives were often short and their work was hard
Imagine you can hear them sing as they wind on through the hills
And hear their clogs against the stones echo down the gylls

Look down, now the only sound the water as it rushes
Look up to the heather moor and the hillside hushes

Mini squadrons of cackling grouse fly off everywhere
Where once the lead was teased from underground
Now it's fired into the air

We go way back
To bits of boys

We shook hands
He crushed his can
So I crushed mine

We walked
We biked just like we used to
He's done well, we both have
In our different ways

Some things we didn't need to say
It was there
Funny slightly scary he remembers
Stuff I had forgot

Oh my god
He knows me better than
I know myself

Big wide gaps we strode across
Filled them up in seconds flat

Left me feeling good
There's no substitute
For a friend like that

You write of apple picking, carborundum wheels
Swishing scythes and landscapes full of trees
A different place, a different time
But familiarity I find in images like these

Among the downy flakes
We feel your little horse's shake
As the woods fill up with snow

Your wife stares out the window
Standing by the sink
We wonder what she really thinks
The day you move into your country home

A stranger makes an offer for your trees
To sell for profit in the Christmas city
Three cents each is far too low, we agree
So they may stay and he can go

What unexpected face was that
She's sure she saw one winter night?
Alighting from the pony trap
She seeks him out by lantern light

Conversations written down
Stories from your time you tell
Glimpses, snapshots, daily life
Atmosphere conveyed so well