Who Turned Out the Light?

The cold has come

He’s stolen the light

Now there is no sun

And it’s mostly night

He also brought rain

And many a cloud

It is affecting one’s brain

Winter shouldn’t be allowed.

Definitely Team Nerd

There comes a time at secondary school,

When you realise you’ve joined Team Nerd, or Team Cool.

It’s not something you choose or a decision you make,

Nor something you can change, or crack, or break.

It’s just a natural occurrence, there is no other way,

But you figure it will change after your last school day.

 

At my school the hat sorted me in to the house of Team Geek,

Wearing ankle biters on day one, my future looked quite bleak.

And to boot, a size fourteen blazer that could’ve fit full-grown men,

A sad tale, as I’m now 30 and still no bigger than a ten.

The good part about being Team Nerd was I could do whatever I chose,

Unlike my ‘cool’ counterparts, who had to follow whatever goes.

 

And so I left secondary allowed to move on and just be me,

But alas, with no street cred from the ‘cooler’ powers that be.

I was allowed the Beatles and Pink Floyd as part of geeky heaven,

While the ‘cool dudes’ had Blink 182 or the cheesy S Club 7!

Leaving school on that last day, I thought I’d start anew,

I thought I’d aim high, start again and join the ‘cooler crew’.

 

Today I’m in my 30’s and things have changed a lot,

But this afternoon I realised that one thing’s changed not a jot.

I went for a walk with my parents on a lovely winter’s day,

I wore my anorak, my backpack and took a flask along the way.

For Christmas, I’d asked for binoculars, with which to see the birds,

And as I sat down in the bird hide, I realised I’m definitely still Team Nerd.

I Choose Cats

I love dogs

I really do

But who would want a pet that makes you pick up poo?

A Comedy Now Known as Sport

I have never been too bothered about watching sport,

I would rather be out myself on the course or the court.

Because it seems to me that the joke is on us all,

As spectators watching the race, or the horse, or the ball.

 

For example, take tennis – we watch the ball in flight,

We look like wet dogs, shaking our heads from left to right.

 

Or basketball – the way they tear up the shiny floor,

It takes 20-20 vision to try to keep up with the score.

 

Polar opposite is golf with putts, wedges and drives,

Tabloids find more excitement in players’ personal lives!

 

What exactly do we gain from viewing a game such as darts?

Though the man calling ‘One hundred and eighty!’ does have it off to an art!

 

So who on Earth invented all of these peculiar games?

What was their motive? What really was their aim?

 

Well, certainly they fooled any willing sporting spectators,

They’re now convinced they’re watching talented winners or traitors.

 

But before we despair and turn off the football on TV,

There’s one more sport to consider and it’s not even the Grand Prix…

 

No, in style I save the best ’til last,

The most crazy, ridiculous sport I’ve passed…

 

Is the one with the most masculine, athletic of men,

Which I admit to watching for humour now and then.

 

But when you actually consider this game, even the shape of the ball,

You’ll find this the most ludicrous, unusual sport of  all…

 

Yes, it’s rugby – that sport where great, bearded men laden the field,

They’re rugged, they’re manly, in a fight they’d never yield,

But on the pitch they run in a lovely, neat straight line,

Then fall over quite on purpose, and repeat ’til the whistle calls time!

 

 

A Terrible Affliction

I know that some people are not susceptible,

But for others, hysterical laughter has quite the pull.

Some may not believe that hysterics is an affliction,

But I can tell you straight, it’s as real as all non-fiction.

Hysterical laughter is a curse, when it appears out of the blue,

At such moments you’re found incapacitated – I’m telling you it’s true.

You’ve little control of bodily function, there’s nothing you can do,

Uncontrollable shakes, a bright red face, and floods of tears too.

What’s worse is they can strike at any time or place,

In certain situations it’s the worst possible case.

For those of you who do suffer, I’ve a thought to lessen the pain,

As those completely unable to laugh, are worse off in the main.

When Things Go the Way of the Pear

When things do not go your way,

You do not get to have your say

 

What is it that you should do –

To make yourself feel less blue?

 

Go and fiddle with something else,

Off you go, and busy yourself

 

Or go and give a friend a call,

Be an entrepreneur – start a market stall!

 

Or listen to some mellow tune,

Hitch a ride to Wales in a hot air balloon!

 

Or swim some lengths in the local pool,

Run, prance, skip, dance, act the fool!

 

No one cares what it is you do,

Just don’t share the gloom of your dark blue mood.

 

Climb Into The Pages

I’d love to jump inside a book and see behind the scenes,

Meet characters read about by old and young and see lands before unseen.

 

Tumble in to Wonderland, play croquet with the queen,

Sit down with Hatter, Hare and Ches and slurp a cup of tea.

 

Dive in to Mordor and escape Gollum’s fishy breath,

Adventure instead to the Shire to avoid a painful death.

 

Fall through pages to see notorious Toad speed by in his motor car,

Punt on the river with Ratty, laze on the banks under the stars.

 

I’d like to watch the case unfold, listening to all that Atticus heard,

To understand the world through Scout, in To Kill A Mockingbird.

 

Learn to transfigure in to a cat and catch the golden snitch,

Take charms class with Professor F and play Seeker on the pitch.

 

Follow clues and solve mysteries in the flat on Baker Street,

Spending time with the genius Holmes would be incredibly tough to beat.

 

I’d love to jump inside a book and tell secrets from the scenes,

Learn from times and characters, and worlds that will never be seen.

I forgot to Mention the Feather Boa…

Fashion is such an hilarious thing,

When people follow, autumn through spring.

To declare ‘One must wear what’s in Vogue magazine’,

With not a thought to your shape nor size – fat or lean.

It seems ever so amusing to just wear what you are told,

Be it too long, too short, too young or too cold!

 

There came the season of the short crop top,

Where we were subjected to unnecessary belly flop.

Then went by the season of the skinny jean,

Which was attractive only for the size-zero skinny bean.

 

Decades past saw the season of the trouser with the flare,

Which was unsettling for the men when coupled with long hair.

No one can forget the season of the fishnet tight,

Goodness knows why we wished to resemble a lady of the night.

 

The season of the halter neck was a nasty, dreadful dream,

Broad-shouldered girls looked to belong in All Blacks rugby team.

But the one that takes the biscuit is the long-standing stiletto heel,

When we’ve been given the gift of walking, I can’t believe this shoe it real!

Is It So Great Being Human?

What would it be like to be a tiny vulnerable little bird?

Is it a never-ending game of hiding from frightful noises heard?

 

Might it be fun to be superior and regal like a cat?

Or through all the naps do they calorie-count, it’s so easy to put on fat?

 

I wonder if it’s a tall order being the size of a giraffe?

And whether their gracelessness they loathe as others look on and start to laugh?

 

What of the poor old wolf who everyone thinks looks terribly frightening?

Is he actually scared of dark, spiders, loneliness and lightning?

 

What of the crazy crab who walks sideways all along?

Going forwards is far easier, does he know yet that he’s wrong?

 

But actually when I think about it, who am I to judge their ways?

Having all their skills together would really brighten up my days…

 

Imagine how great to be a soaring feathery bird,

To drop on Mr Nasty a smelly, dirty little turd!

 

It must be rather nice to be a superior regal cat,

To have people waiting on you at the first drop of a hat!

 

What about being a giraffe, not only are you tall,

But sampling ice creams with a tongue like that must be the best skill of all!

 

And whilst we think of food, we’ll think of wolfy in his pack,

What could be better than being so scary, you can choose your favourite snack!

 

And finally – we questioned his walk – crusty crab under the sea,

But to breathe on land AND in the sea must be way better than being me!

The Pen is Mightier Than the Sword… So the Saying Goes

You might think I’d prefer the pen to the sword,

But in fact I know which I’d prefer in a war.

 

Let’s be honest if someone brandished a gun,

And you fought back with a marker, I can’t see the fun.

 

Or pointing at you was an RPG rocket,

You’re unlikely to flourish a pencil from your pocket.

 

If next to you lands a hard green grenade,

It’s not for a ballpoint that you’d recently prayed.

 

To be quite perfectly frank if there’s a torpedo nearby,

You’re not thinking of a biro, you’ve bigger fish to fry.

 

Now don’t get me wrong I adore the thought,

That merely through words, peace can be bought.

 

But I can’t hear Shakespeare mid-fight turn and say,

“Bring a quill, it’s my weapon of choice today!”