The Sea Invites You In

On a calm and sunny day

The coast beckons me to say

‘Come, be soothed, be calmed,

I can protect you from any harm’

Even on a stormy day

It still beckons me to say

‘Come, see my majesty, see my drama,

I can still make you feel calmer’

You can walk the stony coast path

Feel those spongy tufts of grass

You know the ones I mean

That feel bouncy beneath your feet

The trees bent like falling dominoes

By the untamed winds that blow

The hovering birds of prey

Squawking sea birds in the bay

And when the weather’s just right

The sun is shining bright

The sea calls out to invite you in.

A perfect place. I wouldn’t change a thing.

The Trials and Tribulations of Living with a Hoarder

Would you tidy up your mess?

It really is a pest!

Yes, yes, I’ll do it later on…

After I’ve called my cousin, John.

Could you please clean up your things?

Or I’ll put them in the bin!

OK, OK, no problem. I’ll do it really soon.

Right now, I’m listening to this classic of a tune!

Your stuff is multiplying, it is all over the place!

Please do tidy it, we’re running out of space!

Don’t worry, I have a plan to tidy it tonight…

When I’ve finished piloting my first ever flight!

Well, really, your things are now everywhere!

In every room and going all the way up the stairs!

I’ll sort it once I’ve finished all of my training.

I’m studying meteorology so I can predict when it is raining!

I’m starting to think you’re putting this tidying off…

All this stuff is supposed to be moved up to the loft!

No, no, I just can’t find the time right now,

I’ve purchased a small farm with a herd of friesian cows!

Well, OK, but when will you put everything away?

For goodness sake, will you do it by next May?

Oh yes, no problem, let’s make May my goal…

Although… actually… that’s the time of the May Pole!

And by then I need to have found a replacement for coal!

And won a Hollywood blockbuster leading role!

And I should foster a family of the mysterious bald mole!

And I had planned for a world record to make the world’s largest bowl!

But not before I’ve adopted and raised a rare breed of foal!

 

… So, actually, no…. I probably won’t be free in May.

Might it be OK for all my hoarding to just stay?

 

 

Malaysia

Floating in the sea

With flippers on your feet.

Not in Blighty where the sea

Is murky like builder’s tea.

But somewhere it doesn’t snow

Frostbite cannot claim your toes.

Somewhere warm like a bath

Where the water’s clear as glass.

Mask, snorkel, fins

The adventure begins.

 

Coral reefs have hiding places

And lots of sneaky spaces.

For the puffer who is shy

He could float up in the sky.

The anemone it wiggles

And the clown fish gets a tickle.

Further out the corals vanish

But still creatures here astonish.

From behind the rocks and weeds

A shark you might just see.

You think he might be scary

But of you he is more wary.

You leave with legs intact

In search of other hidden cracks.

Further from the land

The ocean bottom is just sand.

It harbours a creature of great grace

Who understands life’s not a race.

A green turtle nibbles, serenely unaware

Of the humans as they stare.

And that concludes your swim

Of the ocean and what’s within.

 

Malaysia – your seas are crystal blue

And we fell  in love with you.

Sunday Night Blues

I try. I really do.

To make the most of it.

I try. I really do.

To not fall in to the pit.

 

The pit is known by most of the nation;

It’s big and black and sour.

It is notorious within our nation,

For its destructive power.

 

It is overwhelming and terribly tragic,

It holds us if it can,

As it works its dreaded magic,

Whilst we writhe within its hands.

 

It is, I believe, why we have the Sunday roast;

For us workers, a grand meal.

As we try our best to make the most,

To not fall back upon the wheel.

 

The wheel and the pit, you see,

Have quite a close relationship:

One lulls you in, won’t set you free;

The other won’t release its grip.

 

And so we try with all our might,

To live our weekends to the full.

To make the most, enjoy our Sunday nights,

But that awful Monday morning has a strong magnetic pull!

A Lovely Little Game at Christmas Time

It was a sweet start to Christmas Day,

Warm wishes passed round and Santa came to play.

The turkey roasted beautifully, glistening and brown,

Happily the family ate, wearing paper crowns.

After, the obligatory post-food Christmas slump,

Feeling quite contented, if not a little plump.

But hold your horses… Christmas is never quite the same,

Until someone calls it… Yes! It’s time for a family game!

AND BAM! Just like that, all love has vanished,

Politeness, manners, niceties – all of these are banished.

Great Aunty Sue – always so calm and in control,

Has turned bright red, shows us the devil in her soul.

And as for Uncle Bob, who usually silently just sits,

He’s now screaming at his team mates, “You great bunch of twits!”

Neighbour Anne popped round. She always seemed so nice,

But apparently she’s a demon when given a set of dice.

I tell you though, the worst of all is Grandma in her chair,

She’s disowned her son, smashed her Zimmer and pulled out chunks of hair!

What is Life About?

Must you get a sensible job?

Clean the bathtub, clean your clothes, clean your body toe to top?

 

Need you fastidiously eat five fruit and veg a day?

Be polite, toe the line, say the things you ought to say?

 

Settle down, earn your money to buy a four-bed house?

Find a partner, a suitable match, an approved-of spouse?

 

Join a health club, exercise daily at the gym?

…

Or can we throw the book out, break the rules and go out on a whim?

No Cycling

Today I was not allowed to cycle.

The cycle pump was taking the Michael.

Not a peddle here,

Or a gear change there.

Oh no, today I was not to cycle.

Stupidity and The Toothpaste

I just blinded myself for a minute, maybe two!

I was in agony, writhing round, there was nothing I could do!

Throwing water in any direction, longing for it to hit my eye.

Swooshing water any which way – 30 seconds had gone by!

 

Thinking, ‘O my goodness! I may be blind! I may be blind!’

I nearly shouted for me Mam. “Mam, help!” I nearly cried.

But I thought, ‘No don’t be ridiculous, don’t be silly, don’t be daft.

It must be temporary blindness. I can’t have lost my sight,’ I laughed.

 

So I persevere, throw more water in the direction of my eye,

And hastily use my finger as my eye begins to cry!

Feeling round for anything that should not be in such a place,

I glide, I jab, I stroke, I tease, as tears trickle down my face….

 

Yet nothing makes a difference. I’m in such a lot of pain.

I’m blinking like I’ve a World Record to try for and to gain.

This is it for me, it matters not that I’m not deaf;

I shall never be allowed to join the RAF….

 

As it happens, that dreadful minute of my life is now through.

My eye still watering as if chopping onions, certainly it’s true.

So I’ll still be allowed to soar, to glide, to fly that fighter plane.

Who knows, the RAF may be awed by the way I flick toothpaste with such aim!

A Tricky Pet

I do so love giraffes,

They’re wonderful and tall.

If I had a friend who was one,

I think we’d have a ball.

 

I do so love giraffes,

They have a coat of spots.

And if one would let me,

I’d comb their coat of dots.

 

I do so love giraffes,

They have a purple tongue.

I’d like to have a pet one,

Whether old or young.

 

I do so love giraffes,

It could live in my back yard.

But that, I suppose,

Might prove a little hard.

 

So instead,

I have a cat.

And although it’s very short,

I suppose I’m alright with that.

The World Cup

The World Cup is upon us,

The flags are hanging out.

I hate the hype and fuss;

What’s it all about?

 

I strongly declare,

“I shan’t watch them score!”

I haven’t a care,

I’ll find it a bore.

 

Group stages begin,

There’s a terrible din.

It’s on in the next room,

I hear the telly boom.

 

Second round, whistle blows,

Anticipation grows.

It’s just a hum in the background,

Volume down, barely a sound.

 

Then they play team 3,

And it’s tight – I can see.

We’ve not necessarily won this,

I’m hoping they don’t miss.

 

Unbelievably, we’re in the next stage,

And England are ablaze!

I’m screaming at the telly,

As my legs wobble like jelly…

 

Now I’m watching it all,

And cursing at the ball.

Telling the team just what to do,

As if somehow I have a clue.

 

The World Cup is upon us,

I’ve completely changed my tone…

I love the hype and fuss,

And singing, ‘Football’s Coming Home!’