WE ARE OFF TO THE MOON
Have you booked your holidays yet?
Because we are off to the moon.
Mum found a very good deal at the shop
And we blast off Tuesday afternoon.
Dad’ll be shocked when we tell him
I wonder just what he’ll say/
We have some organising to do
And Mum will have to go and pay.
Dad’ll freak when he knows the cost
He will have one massive fit.
Mum said she will tell him gently
So perhaps he will come round a bit.
When he found out he went a bit mad
Shouting that we all cannot go there.
Searching in his wardrobe
Explaining that he had nothing to wear.
Mum said it was too late, it had been paid
We are all going to the moon
Nothing can be done about it now
And we blast off Tuesday afternoon.

Whispering sweet nothings
Into my Lover’s ear
Words may be discovered
And they do not disappear.
Invent new methods and new means
The words returning but he does not
Then it all come apart at the seams.

Wading through rotten wood gathered throughout the year
Lies a little baby hedgehog and in its eye there’s a tear.
In hedgehog talk he pleaded for help and, missing his mum
He was set free to walk back cold and lonesome.
He arrived home and his mum had missed her only son.
She cuddled him while he told her what he had done.
She realised her son could have been burned alive at night
He was under a pile of wood which could have set alight.
She looked at him with all the love in the world and more
But her precious little one was fast asleep on the floor.

I awake to a sound
A soft gentle breeze
Sweeps across my face.
A feeling I found
Memorable.
The music reminds me
A gentle reminder
Of something special
Of what I used to be
Memorable.
A clock ticks silently
The rhythm stirs my heart
Beating my soul
Quietly.
Memorable.

Kiss me sweet lips of the orange
For I am lost in a grove.  I listen
to the tale of the orange blossom.
I examine mackerels across the horizon
and they leave a trail of hope.
Dry bones lie on the ground
Blossom blanketing my hope.
Everything safe and sound
in my heart, my all round periscope
flashes messages in my mind.
I am lost, my inner navigation system
cannot find.
Because I am lost.

Sitting there with an upside down smile
Anyone would think you are sad.
I have been observing for a while
and you know it is not that bad.

I wish I were a fairy
My hair would be dyed blond
and I bet you have guessed
I'd have a magic wand.

I would wave it about like mad
Sprinkling fresh moon beams and stars
There would be no illness, no poverty
and I could live on Mars!

It is with a split decision
the brain disconnecting vision.
Relying and possibly hoping
I didn't mention coping!
Imagine it, but can we?
Sight through a kaleidoscope
Chances wouldn't be huge
Life has no parking brake
the vision is just so opaque.
No red and no green
Nothing to be seen
Just a long dark alley
though one's mind.

Golden Sunrise

My lids to my soul
opened to a golden haze
Wondering and smiling
Stirring from my lazy ways
I awake and I am
rocking and rolling.
My mellow mood
meets with a yellow room
Not a a disguise for my eyes
But to my surprise
I greet a golden sunrise.

Our life is like a colourful conveyor belt
Dealing with a deck of cards dealt
Some of us have a desire to know
What is life like across the rainbow?
Somewhere midpoint beyond the glow
Little bits and bobs are shed from the rainbow.
Coloured confetti for a new man and wife
Big bright balloons for a new life,
In this magic box of tricks
It gets tossed to become a six
Then when the dice is rolled
It disappears into the *** of gold.

A Fairy sat high in the trees
Rocking and holding her knees
she let out a cough
accidentally fell off
and landed in a bed of sweet peas.

Trapped in a world
Of old gold
Lines on the faces of the old.
***** tattoos on creased arms
Scorched fields ploughed to death,
Clenched and clasped
Buckled and braced
On tight worn throats
On horses once raced
On green roads.
Now their heavy loads
Balance on thin legs
Where muscles once were.
Now trapped in pegs.

As I stand here
On the edge of time
My seconds falling
Into the sea.
Do not think
Or bring any shame
No link or
No blame
Can be pinned on me.
As
I look through my book of life
Pages empyting into the sea
Do not think
For one moment this is how it should be
You have not begun
You have not won
This game you are playing
Tossing my dreams to the foam and froth.
I am a wife, mother, sister and daughter.
The day I die
I will try to think unlike you.

A smile shines upon a face
Cracked and parched by the sun
Blistered feet trek in the heat
Carrying water for everyone.
Three hours daily they walk
To a watering hole ***** and crude
Yet still he smiles having no choice
But to bring water to cook food.
Foreigners arrive to lay new pipes
Hope lies now on a wrinkled face
Water gushes from a shiny tap
Drenching life into a dismal place.
Children scream with delight and joy
Sadly they have never splashed before
Tears well in the foreigner’s eye
A shiny tap now means so much more.
A new smile shines upon a face
Pleased that the work has been done
Blistered hands applaud in the heat
At long last the children can have fun.

A brisk walk in the midday sun
Smashing crispy leaf shapes
Into a crinkled crimson.
The wind brushes my face
As I kick the pavement filth
Into it rightful place,
A bird uses the facility
As its mud bath
Splashing shadows on
The dry path
Bleeding together
The dust and damp
Under the privacy of
A street lamp.

There is good in each
And everyone of us.
A beauty that runs deep.
You are the harvest
That you reap.
The seeds that you sow
Will one day surely
Take root and grow.
Look into your soul
There is a beautiful person
And that is you.

My body does not come with a pie chart
Sectioned off, colour coded
To tear away each living day my heart
It comes with love, it is pre-loaded.

I come as a package, filled with care
A little piece for love, you know what that is.
Carried along on a wing and a prayer
And a big soft gentle kiss.

My heart, my soul and all that I possess
My body included in the price
But a very expensive one nonetheless
Because I am human not a mechanical device.

Six carrier bags, a handbag and an umbrella as well
My pockets are full of receipt, it is like a living hell.
Tempers are boiling, my blood pressure’s sky high
Feet are throbbing and I am ready to cry,
My mind had gone blank k and my clothes are a mess
What I look like is anyone’s guess.
My face is without make up and my hair need a comb
What I would really like to do is to go on home.
But I have to keep going, I have to shop
If I stand in one more queue I will drip.
My feet are now yelling that they hate me
And all that I need now is a good cup of tea.
My time is spent in the endless queue
And I am desperately searching for a gap to squeeze through.
I am talking to stranger with a diplomatic smile
All stood like robots in a single file.
Next year, I think U will save my precious time that I get
And do all my shopping on the world wide web the internet.

A great writer once said to himself a pen should always have ink.
Never once did Mr Gibbet believe this or he never planned to think.
Mr Gibbet was a loner, solitude was his trade, all day talking to walls
No one ever rang on the telephone so no weekend free calls.
He chatters to himself all day as if there was someone in the room
Making out the chair was his enemy and his best friend was the broom.
A strange little man, Mr Gibbet who believed in his faith The Good Lord
He knew that if you lived by the sword you died by the sword...
He took in little amounts of food pacing himself between his meals
Did not know what luxury was or top supermarket deals.
Made his own bread which tasted of stale, cheap flour.
Scraped the floor for droppings and made the bread sour.
Bet his stomach was of cast iron use to all known germs
Drinking had only on effect and that was to scare off worms.

A fish in a dish
How confusing for him
Still going round and round
at least he can swim.

The day fell silent
Birds failed to fly
Waves ceased crashing
We wondered why.

The night sky became grey
Black is the new white
Stars refused to sparkle
Dark is not the new light.

Clouds parted temporarily
Like the curtains in our house.
In a trap laden with chocolate
Lay a very confused little mouse.

And so today the wind refused to blow
Whispers were heard from a mile away.
Chaos was the new word on new lips
And still the wind fell quiet today.

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.

“Take you caps off men” ordered the station guard
Years have advanced now down the old train track.
The bacon has gone a bit crispy and the eggs are hard
And the toast has gone black on the track.
“Roll down those sleeves, loosen the scarf at the throat
Empty the ash from your new posh mug
And then shake the crumbs from your new coat.
Put the expensive coffee into the new gass jug”.
No more need for rusty shovels, no more need for steam
Years have advanced down the old main line
And things are not now what they seem.

He carried a didgeridoo
Then he disappeared
At about half past two.
The moon came into view
Which was very weird.
At lunchtime?
This is very true
The sun was due to shine
At this time
But the man tripped on a pole
And broke his instrument
He had fallen down a hole
Containing very wet cement.
Now as a mark of respect
Please do not laugh
Though I very much suspect
When the remember the time
The man with the didgeridoo
Met with his fate
At exactly half past two.

Standing at the roadside
Clicking my left foot
The coal man turned aside
And covered me in soot.

Standing further up the lane
So I won’t get in muddle
A biker rides by
Splashing me with a puddle.

I looked for my coat
As it started to rain
I became very soaked
And floated down the drain.

Sometimes we all want peace and quiet
Sometimes we all wish to shout
Sometimes we all need someone
Sometimes that offer is in doubt.
Doubt is such an ugly word
A word where there is no trust
To have that trust in someone
Is as absolute must.
But maybe sometimes that someone
Does not wish to be about
Maybe that someone sometimes is in doubt
Putting that word to one side
Maybe he or she wants to confide
Because maybe someone shouts sometimes
And sometimes that someone is deep inside.

Sitting closely to the lavender
Who looks to the mackerel sky
Right next to the bird feeder
And has a golden twinkle in its eye
Is the tiny Forget Me Not, bluer than blue
With a tiny black dot.
Sheltering under the striped bamboo
In a cool shady spot.
She knows a thing or two
She comes back here twice a year
Its roots buried with the Yew
Where no gardener can interfere.
When the sun appears
And the clouds soften
After the rain clears
Which is not that often.
The Forget Me Not will remember
When the dark nights fall
It will be watching by the wall.
In early September

As the temperature in the room
Changes from red to blue
And the bread alters to become glue
My heart splits and is broken.
Silently they came, without hesitation
Initially with just a token
I was armed with a question
And silently they came.
Take away, they took away
And now the blood in my veins
Rings true and the mood
In my brain becomes blue.
Nothing was spoken, and
Silently they came.

My paint brush is moistened with a little water
The bristles being no more than damp.
Ready to paint – the paper’s stuck down firmly
It’s the last night at the annual watercolour camp.
We’re in the woods among bluebells and stars.
The lark sings and very strange noisy insects
Come and join us to annoy us by the cars.
I am wearing my blue suede shoes
Among the little Forget-Me-Nots
Whilst painting with the moody blues.
Sapphires twinkle on posh fingers with easels
And out of the blue there shines a jade.
The leader arrives rather blue in the face
According to him the group has not paid.
The sky’s gone cobalt and it’s time to go home
Now the general feeling is we all have the blues
Trampling the heather in not so good weather
Thank goodness I have my blue suede shoes!

Repair it if you can
Two hearts are better than one.
Your destiny is split two ways
Travellers lost in two lanes.
Blood rushes to the heart
In a mad panic and too many tears
Lost in broken down veins
Forever single and now always apart
Receiving second hand news
Please mend a broken heart.
No instructions though and a reused fuse

Lilac and Black
He was in the mine
A deep dark hole
Full of anxiety and sweat.
He was feeling fine
Together and whole
Placing a bet.
When his world caved in
Darkness and worry go together.
Carbon fumes choking
Broke the habit
A dim grey smoke
Filled his space.
His living space
Not much
Oxygen in this place
A bird in a cage
Flew to safety
Whilst it could.
The pit horse sneezed
Refused to move
Its hoof
The roof collapsed.
Place your bets sir
The Devil called out
Odds I win, Evens I win
You lose .

I

Like the good old wizard
like your best fairy.
And especially a wise sage
Friendships are the only ever things
that improve with age.
Except wine of course
and cheese.

I saw a bird
a strange little bird
Known as the brush.
Its mum was a blackbird
and his dad's a thrush.
It sings so lovely
with its bold beak
if it could it would
probably speak.
And say "I'm a brush
because my mum's
a blackbird
and my dad's a thrush.

My dreams are rosy
My thoughts are read
I am all too cosy
Tucked up in my bed

Guarding the blossom
On cool summer nights
The gem of the loganberry, raspberry
And currants.
A sweet little fairy, wings as pink as fruit
Flitting between thorns, tearing her skirt
Coaxing the spider to repair her wings
With silken threads from his web.
Her lace, his face, her grace, his pace
Her terms, his place.
The fairy of the bramble,
A delicate little one.

This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.

Meandering through life
Ducking and diving
Rocking and rolling
Living and surviving.
Saving for later
When times become hard
When the chips are down
And the joker’s played his card.
Plan, plan and then enjoy
Lying on a beach like a whale
If you lie on sand is it a pass
Lie on shingle is it a fail?
Reaching retirement
Does this mean time is your own?
There is some advice for this somewhere
By somebody on the end of the telephone.

In its velvet skin
Hidden below
Sits the Fairy
Of the sloe.
A sprinkling of dust
Surrounds a bitter taste
The blackthorn, as it’s known
The fairies make haste
The rush of the traffic
In the Autumn haze
A steady sour drip
On sunny cool days.
As the sugar sweetens
The dark romantic skin
To enrich the tables at Christmas
With rich sloe gin.

A woman had enormous hips
As all she ate were chips
It was all her fault
Consumed too much salt
And now she has cracked lips.

Mr Pig rose from his chair
His tummy full of crackers and cheese
He’d polished off another éclair
And wiped the cream from his knees.
Mr Duck was devouring cheesy strings
And a sandwich crammed with ham
He’d got lemon curd caked in his wings
And his beak was smeared with jam.
Mr Pig was in a daydream
Thinking of something sweet
Perhaps some juicy cherries and cream
Topped with chocolates and wheat.
Mr Pig retired to his sty
He had become quite ill
Mr Duck knew the reason why
And told him to stay still.
He asked Mrs Hen for advice
While Mr Pig counted sheep
Mrs Hen said he was paying the price
But nursed him while he was asleep.

SANGUINE STAINS
It should have been in her veins
But it was spread on the floor.
Seeping and creeping its life away
Under the stairs, under the door.
She held herself, the pain,
Ripping through her soul.
Deeper now, it is midnight
She wants to be left alone
It’s her life her fight.
He stuck the knife in
She clenched her teeth.
The head appeared without force
Unknown it was like her
Capable by her
Produced by her not him.
This life would be stronger than him
But would be better than him.
Somehow she wished he was here
By her side, by the baby’ side.
She looked at the sanguine stain
She had nobody in which she could confide
But the new life, her son, her new life
A Mother, no had begun
Her life, her lie so far had now begun.

Like a magpie, Rusty the lonely old clown
His hidden talents disguised
His act as sharp as a brand new razor
With the blade pointing down.
He sits in his *****, dismal room
Hiding the doom and he gloom
He paints a fresh red smile
His heart beating to a depressing drum
That quickens every once in a while.
He is certain that there is danger to come
His teeth shine like daggers
And they bite into the cake he is holding
The fruit in the jam rotten like the blood in his veins.
A thief bound by his own greed
Filthy like the rats in his own drain/
The more he wants, and the more he needs/
Collecting and gathering just as a magpie does
Sharp, desperate, the old clown.

Do I risk it for the junket?
Is there a biscuit, can I dunk it
Pour the Rosy Lee
That means a cup of tea
That’s funny, I must have drunk it.

Years ago when I was small
Still small now – that’ nothing new
The river would be my port of call
Where I would admire the view
I had everything under control
And had devised a cunning plan.
Out came my bamboo pole
And my tiny baked bean can.

You see I always had a wish
As I sat there with a flask of tea
That  I could catch some fish
From a boat on the sea.

But as I sit by the  brook
My skin shivers and I sqiirm
As I attach to a battered hook to
Half of a chopped up worm.

Would you?

Walt Disney once said
“If you can dream it, you can do it”

In your wildest dreams  then
Would you reach for the sky?
Grab a handful of cloud
To top your cherry pie.

Go sailing with the dolphins
Scooping treasure in your hands
Begging your pardon to the mermaid
And hope that she understands.

Would you give all you had?
To some poor desperate man
Filling his world with surprises
To be your number one fan.

Would you jump from an aeroplane?
To raise money for those in need
For those who have nothing in life
No will, nothing to succeed.

Would you give hope to someone?
To someone who struggles every day
To provide a safer and brighter future
To take their worries away.

Would you?

She Was Poor
She was poor, a serious lack of finance
But she loved that dress all in pink
And all she wanted to do was to dance
Skate and dance at the Ice Rink.
She knew she could do it, she just knew
It as if she was built with wings to fly
She’d show them what she could do
If only she had the opportunity to try.
She returned home with tears in her eye
Who could she ask for help and persuade
She went to sleep with a very deep sigh
Dreaming of dancing on a nice shiny blade.
The new morning came and it came with news
She had been sent a parcel, a large one at that
She scrambled to open it, could it be new shoes
Or was it a big box for a rather large hat?
No it wasn’t – it contained a pair of blades
For dancing at the local ice rink
She put them on before her dream fades
And imagined she had that dress in pink.

Love is ..........
Love is sheltering from the rain
Together remembering not to complain
Making every little thing worthwhile
Changing sad times with a smile.
Love is learning to accept mistakes
Knowing when to put on the brake
When annoying habits come to light
Especially loud snoring at night.
Love is all about sharing, caring and acceptance
And of course it is all about romance.
Love is about trust. A must to survive
To keep the relationship alive.
Love is learning to forgive, starting again
When an argument sends stuff down the drain.
Holding each other, protecting and laughter
Giggling under the sheets, looking after
Each other when things go wrong.
Love is breaking into your favourite song
In the car when snow melts falling from above
Gently once more falling deeper in love.

It is in the lazy, hazy days of late summer
In the heat, a daisy parts company
My body perspires and sends a shimmer
Of sparkling salt down my spine and skin
A rose stands straight like cadet, red
Like his beret, standing as proud as he.
A tropical butterfly dances within
The petals of the rose, tickling the row.
The wind whispers its petals
So secretly, so delicately, to and fro.
The butterfly wears a brave face
Watching the daisy and the rose
With wings just like Nottingham lace.
In the heat, my body embraces its wings
And it kisses my hand, knowing its place
In the lazy, hazy days of the summer.