Category: Uncategorized

Out of Character

I fear for my sanity 
Fate is having a lark
I became obsessed today
To go and walk in the park.

The feeling stole over me
While I was unaware
So I strode out purposefully 
While others stopped to stare.

That old chap must be ill
He's too old to exercise
We had better stop him
Before he goes and dies.

But I continued in my quest 
And even quickened my pace
I had to get it over with before
My heart gave up the race.

Just then the feeling passed 
And I was fine again
What was I doing here?
Out puffing in the rain?

This really can't be me
This really isn't right
Perhaps I drank too much
Beer and scotch last night.

Retraction

I hurt her feelings with a rhyme
And she was only small
I was a little flippant
And she didn't like it at all.

I only tried to show in words 
A pride I have for her
But she threw them back at me
As if it was a slur.

Perhaps when you are seven
You have principles, plain and straight
And the world should take notice
For next year, "I'll be eight".

So to my wounded girl I say
Do not be angry or sad
For I think you are really wonderful
Love you lots......Dad.

Reflections

Look back, look back old man
to your life climbing the hill
over the rock strewn paths you trod
to the well where you drank your fill.

There was a cost in this journey
your ambition often caused offence
to your family and friends
who showed you tolerance.

Your frenzy was a natural thing
you had to rush onwards and up
give poverty no quarter
and try to fill your personal cup.

The great relief in getting old 
is you reflect and can repent
you now see all the trees in the forest
and regret the pointless energy spent.

So - what to do now you care
Beg forgiveness, or do you cry
Can you smile at the unfortunate?
Give them comfort, help them fly?

Can you now stop and give some gold
to the poor whose hands are out?
Can you bend and show some kindness
and ease your own self-doubt?

Seek peace of mind and solace
Relax, get old, don't moan
Pick a route that gets you through
and know you are not alone.

Equal Opportunity

Think what you like
Express whatever you feel
A funeral without a God?
Is it not just as real?

Did they live a good life?
Did someone hold them dear?
If they died a nice person
Aren't they entitled to be here?

The flames which consume them
Makes all bodies ash, but
Souls and spirits cannot burn
And can't be bought for cash.

Sing songs if you wish to
Speak verses and some rhyme
Cry and mourn freely
For there is no next time.

We gather for the send off
Of someone we all knew
Sceptics also need nice places
To wish gone friends adieu.

Vibrant colours of stained glass
Old wood beams and seats
Candlelight and fresh flowers
Gives an aura which completes.

Religions have the best sites 
With gardens meant to cheer
Solemnity is inbuilt
And we enter without fear.

If this God is any good
He (or she) won't grouse
If some doubters also assemble
Inside his holy house.

Gill or Jill

Before

I will miss you when you leave
But leave you must I know
Your illness is so relentless
But your terror doesn't show.

Your mind still good and sharp
now centres around your kin
and what happens to them
if you let the reaper in?

You lived well and kindly 
Quick to laugh and so very wise
With a great intellect hidden
From just peripheral eyes.

After

I knew you for a long time
Since before I was a man
I am so glad we shared lives
and am sad we no longer can.

RIP Jill - 1940-2020

I’ve Seen LOVE

The fickle butterfly called love
Can settle or fly away
As we go on with our daily lives
We generally hope it will stay.

Sometimes love goes wrong
And the goodwill bank runs low
In the passion of all the anger
Lovers can watch the butterfly go.

But I have seen true love
I have seen it bold and plain
Born from generous dependency 
Nurtured by the lovers' pain.

I've seen my friend Mike stunned
By the filthy erosion of his brain
He ceases to walk far unaided
And won't pee standing again.

He and I were sharing some tea
When his wife entered his space
His fetid gaze suddenly sharpened
And a beam simply split his face.

She kissed him and sat with him
And looked into the eyes of the smile
She softened and flushed pinkly
And they were lost together for a while.

So I've seen love true and undiluted
A privilege witnessed by very few
Blossoming in the ashes of adversity
What a lesson for me and you.

A Jobbing Engineer

Just an ordinary man he seemed
If you met him in the street
A clever brain behind the glasses
Always good to meet.

Now he was the body before us
In his coffin on the bier,
Family, friends and customers
All silently gathered here.

He made parts for Concorde
And joysticks for a computer game
But struck out on his own account
Tired just being a clock card name.

Each work day he dressed in overalls
And rode a bike down to his shed
He followed the paths of commerce
No matter where they led.

Rarely lost for a solution 
To problems that teased his mind
He grew and built a machine shop
Giving service often hard to find.

Always a modest man to everyone
A little short and losing his hair
He died owning the whole estate
And was a multi-millionaire.

Holy Land Travels by an Old Lady

She had had a rough life, this lady
been left high and dry by an untimely death
she had concentrated on raising her boy
and would do so until her last breath.

Low expectations were her norm, just
a work life and her small rented home.
Holidays were a great rarity
and there was never a chance to roam.

She had a faith but hidden deeply
the chapel fed her God's love with fear
and her eyes closed in prayer by the radio
at Remembrance Day Service each year.

Then her son, now grown, and wealthy
took her to Israel and then Rome,
she trod the stations of the cross
and saw the Pope go by on his throne.

Of all she had seen and experienced
in a life that turned out so tough,
the visits to these holy cities
she said, blest her life just enough.