The Drabs Descent

No silver spoon when she was born
No nursery, no christening dress
The clothes her sisters wore before
came down, her skinny frame to bless
And celebrations were there none
they served no economic need
compared to work that must be done
for one more hungry mouth to feed.

Things got no better as she grew
from unplanned babe to unloved lass
Learning her lessons hard in lieu
of any moments spent in class
Then innocence she traded for
the first affection she was shown
Though when she looked for something more
she found out that wild bird had flown.

So forced by circumstance to wed
her mother found a sanguine buyer
to take her to his marriage bed
regardless of her heart's desire
Where she became a bartered wife
as bought and sold as any whore
and so re-lived her mother's life
and those of those who went before.

Whose lives were taken slice by slice
and day by unforgiving day
The cost of living being a price
that they were ill equipped to pay
until the end of each hard fight
when shades were drawn and all could see
the thing the doctor couldn't write
that they were killed by poverty.

The lessons we should learn from this
from every wasted human life
are Ignorance is never bliss
and Poverty cuts like a knife

The bright side

Wake up fresh each morning and take that for a blessing
Another day in this world to keep the Devil guessing
Go happy to your work and do avoid the stressing
Then come home safe each evening, relax and let your heart sing

Don't fret for the future, you only borrow trouble
What will come will come and the interest will double
Live for every good day 'till some prick bursts your bubble
Then shrug and take what's coming and plant flowers in the rubble

Time on Earth is short so don't waste the fleeting seconds
hating, fighting, moaning, making or using weapons
Live well
Love lots
Laugh loud
Say yes when fate's hand beckons
And come down on the credit side as the eternal audit reckons

10 minute warning

There are times in this life I am sure you know
when a man has to do what a man has to do
today it was my turn to go
I would leave it 10 minutes if I were you

daDUM daDUM

To answer why my poems have form
and swing when I recite 'em
The human heart in iambs beats
so that's the way I write 'em

The Infinite Loop

Although I search for meaning in my life
 don't tell me that I'm part of God's great plan
 I've sliced philosophy with Occam's knife
 and feel that chance made atoms into man

 But if you say that God made atoms first
 and thereby set the universe in train
 I must enquire what earlier outburst
 made God, and then repeat and then again...
 Then if you say that God has always been
 I wonder at what point eternity
 alone and dark and silently unseen
 caused God to manufacture you and me.

 I charged the scientists to answer too
 Despite their claim to know, they can't agree
 Though Big Bang, out of which all we know grew
 is physics' fav-our-ite plan currently
 But science cannot tell me of the start,
 of what was there to make the big bang flash
 From nothingness, did everything depart?
 or are we just rebounding from a Crash

 No answer that I've heard can give me rest
 Theology and science can't agree
 It's Big Bang or a Creator's Request
 but each solution needs eternity
 And that is one thing that I can't allow
 It's just another game of sophistry
 Infinity does every thing endow
 No matter what the odds it still must be.

 So as my search for meaning moves along
 The church and Science answer as they can
 And though both can't be right, both can be wrong
 so now I'm back to where all this began.

The River of My Life

The sun is hot
The sand is dry
the wind cuts like a knife
and though it is a desert, through it runs the river of my life

My home is still
my garden, bare
completely free from strife
and though it is a desert, through it runs the river of my life

I live alone
I have no kids
I never had a wife
and though it is a desert, through it runs the river of my life

The river of my life was once a trickle
Through youth it grew, got faster every day
In middle years a torrent carrying everything before
then slower as the years all run away

It traveled from the mountain tops
through hills, across the plains
until at last it finally reached the sea
And behind me is a canyon carved by such a mighty knife
and though it is a desert, through it runs the river of my life.

A Viking Horn Triskelion

When the working week is done
and offices and factories close
a sudden change o'ertakes my son
At weekends he's a viking

With linen clothes and leather boots
and hand made shield and helmet
he holds true to his nordic roots
At weekends he's a viking

When he was wed to his lovely víf
he gained another father
Then we took on a hieroglyph
because our son's a Viking

a viking horn triskelion
is father Odin's symbol
Inscribed for ever on our arms
because our son's a Viking

A step into the dark

There's many a slip twixt cup and lip

The best laid plans will oft fall down
You'll never know what ill winds blow
in the darkness on the edge of town

The rich live soft, the poor live hard
The poorer-still lose their feet and drown
in the rivers of shadow that ebb and flow
in the darkness on the edge of town

The party girls with their hair in curls
with strings of pearls and silken gowns
Stray from the light and are lost to sight
in the darkness on the edge of town

The bravest men with the stoutest hearts
Set out to build their own renown
They won't retreat but are just fresh meat
in the darkness on the edge of town

By day they search the trackless sand
No marks, no evidence is found
Though many crossed they all were lost
in the darkness on the edge of town

You may know where you've come here from
but don't step out when the lights are down
You won't know who you're going to
in the darkness on the edge of town

Sympathetic'ly renewed

The staircase has been turned about
That archway was a wall, before
the front room and the parlour joined
in one unbroken stretch of floor
The kitchen's twice the size it was
The outside loo and coal shed gone
The pantry's now a cosy nook
with comfy chairs to sit upon

The upstairs has extended too
A bathroom has been fitted. There's
a bath and shower, bidet, loo
and cupboard underneath the stairs
For there's another staircase that
leads up into the attic space
that now serves as a little flat
for son who can't get his own place

Yet from the outside nothing's changed
My childhood home looks just the same
From brown front door to grey backyard
They've even kept the same old name
4, Beehive Cottage it was called
Which sounds so rural, even twee
But, built between two busy roads
it is no haven for a bee

So when I saw it up for sale
I had to take a little look
as sympathetic'ly renewed
was written in the agent's book
But Sympathetic'ly My Arse!
They'd torn its heart and soul apart
and turned it into just the same
as any modern builders 'Art'

So while an outside loo's no pleasure
I'll mourn the passing of this treasure

The good old days

The times they change, as written in that song
and things you once relied on let you down
the strangers that you meet, meet with a frown
good times appear so short and sad times long

The things you did you can no longer do
your youth and beauty gone, there's nothing left
of happiness and joy you are bereft
your life is just a place you're passing through

But don't forget the lights of times gone by
though summer may be past and winter come
you danced the world awake with pipe and drum
you had your blessed years, your times to fly

So though where'er you look your world decays
these days will be tomorrow's good old days

The non-persistence of memory

I still recall the way you dressed
in working boots and corduroys
A white vest 'neath your checquered shirt
the same as all the village boys
Except your boots were just size two
your waist was smaller than your hips
Your hair tied in a pony tail
a hint of red upon your lips
And then the final evidence
your walk that gave the game away
not overdone with artifice
but feminine in every way
And though your face was lined by years
of working in the rain and sun
your beauty shone out from within
for me you were the only one.

And yet although these things I know
I can no longer see your face
I've lost the feeling of your kiss
your smell has gone without a trace
And all that I can recall now
are memories of memories
the years have bleached the details out
and left them drying on the breeze
I know that you and I were wed
I know you left through death's dark door
and though I miss the life we led
I find I miss the memories more

Sanctuary

A place where I can be alone
Where I can quiet be, OR LOUD
Somewhere no deference need be shown
no reverence to any crowd
A place where all the rules are mine
with no regret should they be broke
Where not even the great divine
can override this simple bloke
Where wildest fancy can come true
and darkest rumour can be spread
and never any harm ensue
This Sanctuary inside my head

Miss you daddy

I miss you daddy, said the little girl
Dropping crushed flowers from a hot little hand
into that deep hole dug in the sand
on that dark day she did not understand

I miss you daddy, said the little girl
Missing the voice that rumbled in the chest
she leant against while being dressed
by the daddy that loved her best

I miss you daddy, said the little girl
But mummy said that you can't come back
from that big wooden box so shiny and black
with the six metal handles and bright brass plaque

I miss you daddy, said the little girl
from inside the woman that she became
But few are the memories she can reclaim
All time has left her is her father's name

Happy Bunny

A smile is free
 said the man on the ground
then he smiled at me
 and it cost me a pound
There is no such thing
 as a free lunch, I've found
and it's a long wait for what's gone
 to come back around

But I don't mean don't smile
 or be mean with your money
Some days are grey
 but others are sunny
Look on the bright side
 laugh out loud at what's funny
And hop through this life
 like a big happy bunny.

God's Waiting Room

It's Thursday so they go for tea
Their favourite cafe in the town
They choose a table at the back
take off their coats and sit right down
The waitress brings their usual drinks
Two slices of their usual cake
They sit and eat and drink their tea
No word of conversation make
And when the tea and cake is gone
their usual sixty minutes spent.
They rise and put their coats back on
and leave, apparently content

I see them and I think somehow
that I would want a little more
from life than this weekly routine
of going where you've gone before

But going where they've gone before
brings them enjoyment in the gloom
as everything in life slows down
while waiting in God's waiting room
And all they need is what they've got
Their lives a living museum
to all they've had and all they've done
as they stroll to Elysium.

Reach

If there's a lesson I can teach
to those that ask the question why
am I in tears here on the beach
and not in glory in the sky
It's have a target you can reach
for if that first step's set too high
you'll fall down in a heap at each
attempt and soon no longer try.
So if you want that topmost peach
don't spread your arms and try to fly
but climb up branch by branch and each
branch that you reach will make you vie
to stretch for higher branches till
your greatest wish you will fulfill

Pastoral 2 (Happy ending)

The chalk downs stand as they have stood
unchanged for year on year on year
Where grass grows lush as any could
and lays an emerald veneer
Where you may wander where you would
no hedge or gate to interfere
'cept the occasional copse or wood
that punctuates this green frontier

The sky is cerulean blue
The scanty clouds are whispy white
The sun shines with a brazen hue
and bathes the downs with heat and light
The air is noisily shot through
with buzzing from the bees in flight
and skylarks soar beyond our view
to play their flutes for our delight

High on these humpbacked hills of chalk
the aimless sheep may safely graze
No predators among them stalk
and they keep all the lambs they raise
For with the sheep the shepherds walk
to keep them safe and rescue strays
The only price paid by the flock?
The fleece that's shorn on late spring days

O'er all the downs the shepherd's king
and rules the land in any weather
Through burning sun or hailstone's sting
Counting his sheep with Yan Tan Tether
No golden crown or pearly string
just homespun cloth and boots of leather
With magic from a faery ring
the king holds court among the heather

Yan Tan Tether is an old English counting scheme

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yan_tan_tethera

Pastoral

The chalk downs stand as they have stood
unchanged for year on year on year
Where grass grows lush as any could
and lays an emerald veneer
Where you may wander where you would
no hedge or gate to interfere
'cept the occasional copse or wood
that punctuates this green frontier

The sky is cerulean blue
The scanty clouds are whispy white
The sun shines with a brazen hue
and bathes the downs with heat and light
The air is noisily shot through
with buzzing from the bees in flight
and skylarks soar beyond our view
to play their flutes for our delight

High on these humpbacked hills of chalk
the aimless sheep may safely graze
No predators among them stalk
but still they lose the lambs they raise
For with the sheep the shepherds walk
and take their tithe on late spring days
when lambs go to the auction block
The freedom price that each flock plays

I Can't Remember

I can't remember what I did
I can't remember what I said
I've slept since then I always say
and any chance of recall's fled

You get past fifty and you find
that memory no longer floats
So write it down and hope you can
remember where you put your notes

Maslow's Hammer

If life's not the life that you wanted
and nothing works out like you planned
Then you are the one who must fix it
just choose from the tools close at hand
But be careful, your choice will affect how
you ultimately succeed or fail
For if all that you have is a hammer
then everything looks like a nail

Snow

The sky is dull and darkening
The clouds hang heavy overhead
the temperature is falling fast
on roads the winter salt is spread

Then here it comes the first snowflake
All on its own windmilling round
To land and melt away at once
as if it never touched the ground

Then more and more follow the first
The world to icing sugar yields
And gradually the winter white
spreads over all the roads and fields

The snow falls even harder now
and all the land is quilted deep
No creature cares to interrupt
the woodland in its winter sleep

Until the sun pops up its head
and lucky children greet the day
To find their school is out of reach
and all the fields are dressed for play

I Remember

The first time I met you and how I was stricken
How your grace and beauty made my heartbeat quicken
Our first conversation, the smallest of small talk
The weather, the city, the ice on the sidewalk
Our first date together, a film and a burger
with both of us wond'ring if this would go further
The first time you said that you loved me, my heart burst
I said it too, but wished I had said it first
Our plans for our future as Mr and Mrs
Getting our apartment, moonlight hugs and kisses
Our September wedding, white dresses, black tail coats
Photos by the harbour, a background of sail boats
The December doctor, the trips to the clinic
Me playing the optimist while secretly cynic
and the fifteenth of Jan when you took to your bed
and that day a week later when I knew you were dead

The winter interment with snow on the ground
All the cars as they left without making a sound

Though my heart is broken I still have to say
that we lived a whole life in that year and a day
The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long
Your singing has stopped but the song still goes on
The mercy of time will let others forget
But I will remember the day that we met

Waiting

I fear that I'm waiting
for something to happen
that won't ever happen
because I am waiting

Forward or Backward

The young live in the future
looking forward all the time
The old live in the days gone by
in memories of their prime
The modern man lives in the now
and hasn't got a second
for looking on or looking back
each minute is a weapon
But I look forward like the young
to times when like the old
I'll look back on the good old days
that's these days, so I'm told.

Resolution

Now comes new year and others will
prompt you for high aims to fulfill
For promises to mend your ways
for three hundred and some odd days

Don't set your target for the year
while influenced by drinking beer
For any target set this way
will vanish by the light of day

Don't set your aim or sights too high
for as the weeks and months go by
and any hope of success goes
your sense of failure grows and grows

Don't set your aim by other's measure
For notions that your friend may treasure
may be quite meaningless to you
and come between and split you two

The best advice that I can give
to help you through this year. To live
in knowledge that each promise won't
be kept at all is simply Don't