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mark jarrad Jun 2012
Jelly in my wellie wobble-ing like a belly
Jelly in my wellie squashed between my toes
Lime flavoured jelly that was kinda smelly
How it got in there ? no one knows !
In wellie boots
I wade through the years.
Tears of denial seep through
and splash into the top of these wellie boots
dragging me down
one by one.

Sticky in your grasp
I cling
wishing that mud could turn to stone.
trudging through the realization
that it never was
and never would be.

With each step these wellies
begin to separate.
They fall off and sink.
They’ve drowned.
I’ve waded into quicksand.

I laugh at the belief that these wellies
would be enough protection
from a much larger situation.
I’m laughing as I am slowly sinking
at least I’m not drowning unaware
that you would watch me suffocating.

Tears meet the years old tears dried at my feet
delusion meets grief.
Now at shoulder depth
I am laughing.
As I prepare to take my last breath
I am laughing.

I get pulled out while still laughing.
By someone who isn’t you.
and I see my wellie boots in the distance
dead and floating.

Now I jump in relief. Barefoot.
Francie Lynch Nov 2016
BeforeTV

Before TV,
When we were together,
Before growing apart
From father and mother,
We entertained ourselves with song;
All the sisters and brothers.

We gambolled in the backyard,
The clothes line was our zip line,
We fell soft, then hard.

We somehow got a hold of skates,
Not knowing what they're for,
So we took turns,
Laced them on,
To skate on cement floors.

We raised a high jump,
Skipped on the driveway,
Double Dutch and Speed;
We strung a line for volleyball,
Nailed a hoop below the roof,
Played soccer in the hall.
We paddled ping-pong on the table;
Our household freedom
Made us as grateful
As animals in a well-kept stable.

Some winters we'd flood the back,
And shoot and slide until the cracks
Turned to puddles,
Then I'd sail popsiclestick boats
Over oceans,
To distant folks.

On the frontwalk we tossed our stones,
Landing on the moon,
And hopscotch til we went for soup
And soda bread and **** milk.

If we had a ball and bat,
Chances are we'd not come back
'til the sun went down;
And then,
When the stars came out,
We'd *Hide and Seek,

Til the last one'd shout,  Home Free.
With dirt and patchwork dungarees,
We went in
For good-night tea.

Weren't we the normal family?

Then we got our first T.V.

After T.V.

We were landed,
Not gentry,
And we started channelling
U.S. T.V.

We weren't polite like Cartwrights,
Nor guaranteed Lil' Joe's birthright.

The sisters locked on Patty Duke,
Then dressed the same
To get the look,
So they ditched their Wellie boots.


We'd lie on the floor,
Stuck like glue,
On Sundays watch Ed's Big Shoe.
We didn't know the sun had left,
Our eyes were on the TV set.

The Cleaver boys still got dessert,
Though leaving green beans on their plate,
Left ice-cream and sweet chocolate cake.
We'd stare confused, yet salivate;
Such treats and food we'd never waste.

The Douglas boys had single beds,
En suites, bathrobes,
Hair on their heads;
Pillows and open windows,
And locks on doors,
They weren't co-ed.
We slept, at least, two to a bed,
Four to a room, two bedspreads.
We slept on mattresses with stinging springs,
Torn and traced with stale *****.
In the hot and humid summer,
In bathing suits
We'd swim in slumber.
Our small window couldn't open,
We roasted in our four walled oven.

We watched Lassie and Gomer Pyle,
Green Acres' Arnold had us beguiled.
We didn't get Father Knows Best,
His gentleness raised our regrets.
Lucy and Ricky, an odd couple,
Were always getting into trouble,
Like Fred and best bud, Barney Rubble.

Were these the models to emulate,
To blend in North of the United States?

These families had open conversations,
Shared their thoughts without hesitation.
Mine were full of consternation,
And alien, like My Favourite Martian.

We grew in a foreign land,
Beached like the cast on Gilligan.

Surely, we were Lost in Space,
Separate from the human race.
No gyroscope to set direction,
To separate fact from fiction.

We weren't stupid,
We were astute;
We weren't the ones on our TV.
We were a singular family.

Post T.V.

We numbered ten at the start,
Then aged and drifted far apart;
We can't gather to watch TV,
As we were once wont to be.
But I remember Ernest T.,
Throwing rocks to win Charlene,
And arrested by Sheriff Andy.
We laughed at all the silly doings
Of Barney, and Thelma Lou's wooings.

I send e-mails and textual banter,
(One brother still likes writing letters),
Reminding me of our early days,
How TV censured our innocent ways.

We never were small screen.
We emigrated to Canada from Ireland in 1957. A brave new world.
Universe Poems Sep 2021
Deep in the woods
Pointed hat no socks,
exchanged the heels,
for wellie pops
The path was long
Nature shone
buzzing bees,
bark alive on the trees
Some mist ahead
Wanted to see where it lead
Can see a rest is definitely near,
small but visible and, clear
Cottage in the woods,
eyes can see this is good
Stepped inside
A chair for one,
choice of three,
wanted the one just for she
Drifting now
Sounds muffled,
ears picked up something,
that was special truffled
Three thoughts
They spoke,
you took my chair,
now it seems it is not bespoke
She said this chair,
is not just for one,
you still have yours,
mine is in the sun
I like to sit,
and, feel nature,
on my face,
embracing the glow
Nature is there,
for all you know
It gives bespoke,
whoever is part,
of nature's flow,
that's not a joke
The voices said,
your chair is part,
of what nature said,
We now realise,
your chair came from,
the woodland here
Our voices are part,
of the woods,
as you embrace nature,
your part of the good


© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
nivek May 2014
walking on water looks a cert
when looking right now
no need for wellie boots
flat calm sea
Matt Walls Jan 2018
2nd of Jan all revved up
Another cup of tea in another tea cup
Back to work sharp and raring to go
Cup of tea gone, the start is slow

Happy New Year you say with glee
The guy over there is staring at me
I pick up the pace and give it some wellie
Oh crap I think he's staring at my belly

Peanuts, crisp, Toblerone and cake
Turkey, trifle all on your plate
Just eat and sit until you're ill
As you tell yourself just sit and chill

Must get fit and lose some weight
Tuesday arrives you come home late
Chicken Pie, peas and a pint of beer
Same old same old Happy New Year!
Ryan O'Leary Aug 2018
Waders. actually, green
one's to boot, Willie is
an Irish aristocrat with a
pedigree that goes back
to the time of Noah.

There is a small island in
the river just before the
bridge in Mallow and it is
commonly believed, that
it is where the ark anchored.

Willie's house is situated
on Bridge Street half way
between the alley and
the gully so this is why
it is known as The Galley
Poetic T Oct 2019
In a sea of umbrellas,
          There are waves of people,
Collecting the little ones
              rippling through puddles.

With wellie boots on,
              making a splash
As raindrops tickle
              Their noses.
Universe Poems Apr 2022
Take a seat
Feel the soil
Consult the moisture boss
Peat moss
Care for your plants
Nature does not leave it to chance
Sphagnum moss
No digging up this boss
Removed with eco in mind
Habitat let's be kind
Harvesters today,
drain swamp land anyway
While taking sphagnum,
they remove peat moss
Habitat loss
Maxing out profits,
and their time,
in swamp wellie lockets

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney

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