Day 10- Ponderings

Ponderings

At Christmas time we often think of those not with us, whether through death or geographic distance  and looking at this poem about my Nan seems so appropriate.
The post also refers to the accolade of being poet of the day with my poem " Go This Way" which you can find back on the 3rd April.
But there is also lots of looking forward...
I look forward to seeing my new grandaughter who is one week old today..Little Molly . That brings the number up to twenty. This is my treasure .... And with a beautiful great grandchild as well,  I feel well blessed.
I look forward to a course that I want to do in January that will help with my work .
I look forward to 2016, the year my husband and I will travel ( not sure what manifestation this will take)
I look forward to my friend moving to my town and us getting to know each other better.
I look forward to lots of family get - togethers where all the generations grow to love the others more.
I look forward to hearing all the stories my children and grandchildren will bring to me to share their ups and downs...
I look forward in hope.... for all of this and more....
I look forward.....




10th April

So happy to have been chosen as the poet of the day yesterday by napowrimo.net


Day 10:  10th April, 10th poem

Yesterday I was thinking about old age, as you do. And what came to mind vividly was my relationship with my grandmother. An inspiration to me all my life. She died twenty four years ago but I am the person I am because of her. She had a huge influence on my life.




Nan

My pillar, strong, constant
There in my uncertainty
In the chaos of my wanderings
Unshakable in my instability.
With you the colour of being
Was not elusive or fleeting
With the blustery winds
Of breathing.
With you  unrest of spirit
Was calmed with the powerful
warmth of intimate confidence
With  you I learnt to savour
Those moments of
moving forward
Towards changeless
Substance.

Wishing you all Peace and Joy

Wishing you all Peace and Joy this Christmas and always.

Will write more when I get a bit more time to myself.

XXXXX

No Peg ( Day 9)

No Peg

Looking back at this post from April made me laugh, bringing back memories of 

grandchildren finding me so funny. The joke about the peg kept them going for days.

 That was only six months ago, but  so much has happened in their lives since then that

 I wonder if they even remember that time.

When we visited them a few days ago they were off to London to sing Carols.

Well , we no longer need a peg for the oven, having moved house and bought a new 

one. Now I have two ovens, seven burners and not a peg in sight.

During these days of Christmas it will make a huge difference to the feeding of visitors

 who might come.

I'm sure there will be a few over the twelve days.

But there won't be turkey. Well not in my house . I have to say it's not a favourite with 

the family.  It's not bad, just not that great. We do love it , when days after Christmas 

we make a brilliant curry with the left overs, but as roast meat - no, not the best.

However, I am looking forward to eating turkey on Christmas day this year when we visit

 my parents for the day and my lovely sister will cook. I'm totally sure it will be 

the best ever.

A little bit of rambling today. Not much of the poet here...

Oh well,

A very Happy Christmas to all my faithful readers...

 Day 9: 9th April, 9th poem.




This is for Daniella, my grandaughter, who wanted me to write about the fact that we have to put a peg in the oven to wedge it closed. It's rather annoying, but it works. When we move, in May hopefully, we'll be able to get a new oven. It's a bit of a joke that caused some laughter at the table. So:

 The Peg in The Oven

 Feeding twelve with sausage and beans,
And I have to put a peg in the oven.
Not enough to feed all the teens,
As I have to put a peg in the oven.

Cake, banana, that Josh has baked ,
A large one to feed the hordes.
We'll all get a piece
one at least
And he had to put a peg in the oven.
Yes, he put the peg in the oven.

Day 8 / Busy

From thinking about money in the Easter season to pondering it again in this Christmas season.


Busy

People rush around shops - their thinking confused
Decorations everywhere - glittering, seducing,
Carols sapping emotions.
Socks for Uncle George, cost too much- but
The reindeer are cute
Madness-
People spending more than they can afford.




Day 8: 8th April, 8th poem


I took the prompt today from Napowrimo - to write a poem reflecting on money:


Money

Money doesn't make you happy,
that's what people say,
But to live in this world we need it,
It helps us on our way

But it shouldn't be the thing that
takes up all your heart,
It only gives material stuff,
The physical, bodily part.

It has no value of itself,
It's just a means to an end,
to bring some joy to those we love,
family and friends.

So, if you find you're lucky enough,
and have a fortune to spare,
Spend it wisely while you can
Give some away and share.

Many people are going without,
they struggle to make ends meet,
You could be there to help them along,
And put them on their feet.

So, don't be a miser ,
with your pot of gold,
make others happy,
before you're too old.


I struggled to find time to write a poem today, as we're so busy with family staying for the Easter holidays.
But the motivation to continue with the poem a day for April forced me to produce something, and in rhyme, which is not really my style.

My treasure is my family.

Day 7 Christmas Tree / Teapot

Christmas Tree

Day 7

Christmas Tree

Here is our Christmas Tree, up and decorated. This year it's up earlier than normal.  For a number of years now we have bought a real Christmas tree either a few days before the 25th or if earlier,  kept it in the back garden until a few days before - not wanting it to droop in the warmth of the house , loosing it's needles and being bare by the end of the Christmas season.
This year, we opted to get an artificial tree - nearly didn't get one at all as not having all of the family here and wondering if it would be worth it. Anyway, we thought we'd have enough visits over the season to make it worthwhile. And yes, we are pleased. It is the only concession we have made to the material side of this time, but we love it. With it's flashing lights reminding me first of Jesus being the light in the darkness - we all have some element of darkness within us that needs light - and then of the hope of brighter days to come as the days start lengthening again to bring us towards spring.
Then the idea of the evergreen reminding us of eternity and the hope of unbelievable happiness in heaven, while thinking of our God as the creator of the universe and all of nature.
With the beautiful decorations - for me mostly red and gold - I am reminded of the rich gifts that God gives to us always.
And how is all that a reply to the poem I wrote, "Free" , that deals with that man on death row. Well I would say that he was very aware of heaven and the many ways God gets involved in our lives.


Something else:
It seems to be becoming more popular today to have a teapot and small china cups and saucers. Just a hint as to how to clean your teapot , whether it's crock or metal. Take a 1/2 cup of washing powder - you know, the stuff you wash your clothes with . I use persil but any brand will do. Put it in the teapot and pour on boiling water right to the top. Leave for a couple of hours then wipe all the black off. If some parts are a bit resistant use a scourer. Wash, rinse and polish for a new looking , beautiful teapot.
Works every time .

And here's a little story to go with your cuppa

Morning tea.                                                          

I take the tray from the cupboard under the sink, the one mother in law passed on to us. Being precious to her, crafted in marquetry with a beautiful leaf design by her great uncle Horace around 1900, she proudly brought it out only for special guests.  

                We’ve used it habitually every morning since my husband retired, for our tea.   One tea bag is enough but it has to be PG tips, into a pot that I bought in a charity shop some years ago. I was attracted firstly by the size,  bigger than the norm, and then by the Red Rose pattern that reminded me of when we were courting. 

We like not to be disturbed, but today as I stare sleepily out of the window while waiting for the kettle to boil, the phone rings and my daughter, Kate, wants advice from mum while she walks to work. It’s her favourite time to ring.

Ten minutes later it’s back to the tea.   I cover the pot in a tea cosy that was specially made  by my daughter Emma, for our fortieth anniversary and which has pictures of our wedding day cleverly woven into it. Two cups and saucers with a similar design to the pot, but with “Ruby Wedding” written on them, sit next to a small, plain white jug.  I have lots of jugs. I get it from my Dad. He collects small jugs. He’s very fussy and they have to be bone china, as do the cups and saucers. I was teary eyed  when I visited then last week and saw that at eighty two,  he  still takes a tray of tea up to mum in the mornings. Something he’s also done since he’s been retired .

          We settle our morning bones into the welcome sofa to drink our first cuppa, with me reading the daily meditation. Half hour of peace, breathing deeply to find the place where the I becomes the we of a newfound joy for today.  There’s another interruption as my son stands tall and lanky in the doorway and asks for money for the bus.  And can Suzy come and stay. As I try to work out whether or not it would be convenient Peter has said yes and Dom is out the door like a bullet, knowing that there’s always a possibility I will override his father. Today though I breathe a sigh of relief and calmly sip my tea.

Day 7 n- 7th April

Free

For thirty years -Anthony Ray Hinton
In solitary, confined on Death Row, but
Innocent - released today.
We walk the ridge,
Chill winds numbing our brains,
Out on  the Creek
Boats sail, weaving on water - free.
Birds, Avocets,  Godwhitts, weaving on wind- free,
Children run, absorbed in games,
Worries not part of their plan, free.
But we, our minds chained -
Chained, with myriad links-
Incarcerated by,
 Our money, our children, our job,
Clearly not free.
On Death Row his joy sustained him.
No bitterness consuming him,
No attachments enclosing him
Living simply, close to God,
For thirty years he has been free.

Evergreen - ( day 6)

Ok, just to say thank you to those who are reading my blog - 47 yesterday. It would be great to have a little feedback.. or suggestions , or just random comments...
So today I look at the 6th of my Poem a Day For April and respond....

Evergreen

Birds flocking round the feeder,
New seeds - Energy for warmth.
Though frost frames the evergreen,
Still they sing at dawn -
A tune  that drifts into the  sea
Of the great Unconscious,
Where time is not, nor space,
But only being.
The strawberries of summer
And the Holly Berry of winter,
Both still red ...
Both still....








Day 6: 6th day, 6th poem            
                 

   Strawberries

Weddings- strawberry cheesecakes,
 Degree ceremonies or new babies-
Strawberries and cream-
Special family times.
Today I sit at a large table
In the sunny conservatory
Surrounded by children
Adult now , parents some,
Animated - they debate together,
While grandchildren - cousins-
In brightly coloured dressing up clothes,
 Are busy, having adventures
In "foreign lands".
On the table strawberries, plump-red -
An aroma of sweet, fruity promise.
And a knife.
 My task : to cut strawberries into four-
 Lengthways-for dipping-In chocolate.
And others, to roughly chop
For Eton Mess - a longtime favourite.
Warm rays caressing my back
Brings to mind  misty memories.

Day Five - Look Within

So, the fifth day...

Look Within

You may be confined, constrained, confused,

Shut in...

Even though you can walk where you will.

But  do not look to be freed 

As if some other can unlock 

The chains...

Instead, without fear search within, 

Deep inside, until you reach,

The core....

And there discover unknown worlds

That are your

Liberty....

Day 5: 5th day, 5th poem.
Easter Day

Out of the Darkness

We get up early, before the sun,
Bold, loving - striking out to where
We'd watched Joseph and Nicodemus.
Gather spices, fresh clothes,
Ointments to anoint His body
We walk together.
 Tears - a balm for the union of our sorrow.
Wailing we comfort each other with stories,
Personal, painful.
We ponder - who will roll the stone away?
And then,
The sun rises
Reaching the place, we stop.
Looking , without understanding ,
who has done this thing?
The tomb - empty.
Confused we stand.
Do not fear , they say.
Out of darkness - the Light ...He is Risen...
And joy ,  hope returns.
He is alive...
He is alive...
He is alive...

4th day...Joy

Continuing my response to the "Poem A Day In April" :


JOY


I Look forward to this meeting,
Joy awaits me there,
Just need to remind myself of the route...
Joy awaits me
Mustn't get distracted by other roads - obstacles-
Joy awaits
I come to meet you in that place
That is everywhere, in the now of forever...
Joy....

Day 4: 

4th April, 4th poem

Written yesterday-Good Friday:

The Ninth Hour

Caught up in the swollen mass,

 that surges, like a river  

over spilling its banks. 

I am elbowed,

jostled , pushed, shoved,

Through dusty streets, 

The frenzied multitude,

Ringing in my ears,

I look up .

Can I see Him?

For an eternal brief moment, we are chained in a look

His eyes wedded to mine - heart embracing heart.

He staggers

I squeeze through, bumped and kicked.

I look up

Can I see Him?

Innocence before me

I take my white linen cloth

To his face-disfigured, bruised 

Blood, sweat, soak into that veil.

my treasure.

Soldiers drag me away.

I cannot watch ,

His body - cut, wounded , battered,

Struggles up the slope

staggers-falls , staggers again.

All stop. The summit.

I look up,

Can I see Him?

The place of skulls

Nailed, hung, spared nothing.

Arms open wide in embrace.

The lamb on his throne.

It is the ninth hour.

We are expecting lots of busy-ness during the next two weeks so I will have difficulty writing for the blog and keeping up with the challenge. I do intend, however to give it a shot, even if what I post isn't as good or finished as I'd like. So carry on supporting and spreading and we'll see this through together.

Today:

Did you know?

Total Lunar Eclipse or "Blood Moon", is on April 4, 2015 and will be visible in most of North America, South America, Asia and parts of Australia.

Of course we can't see it here in the UK.

3 The Circle

My third response

The Circle

This winding road is actually a circle, 
From where you've come to where you're going,
Coming back always to the same place, 
Over and Over,
But changed.
And all the while another journey
Falling Into that deep universe, 
Slowly, slowly,
Where nothing changes






Day 3:

 3rd April 3rd poem.

Was inspired today by a walk along the coast . We took a path from the beach up a pretty winding staircase. Each turn gave a different, yet  interesting view which  made me reflect the path our lives take. Not sure I've done justice to it in this poem.

Go This Way

Go this way, by these winding steps,

                                    Up this steep slope.

                                                     Stop here, rest,

                                                                      Take in the view,

                                                                                     The castle - almost ruins

                                                                                                     Wealth mostly spent.

                                                                                     Carry on up, round another bend,

                                                              See the lake- shrouded in mist,  

                                               Past joys hidden.

            Struggle further, towards the summit,

                                                   Breathless,

                                                               The path narrows,

                                                                                Turn, see the valley

                                                                                            Deep, dark,

                                                                                  Lost moments of gloom.

                                                                                                 But now,

                                                                               Crawl on to the summit,

                                                       Lift yourself up,

                        Stand, breathe deep

     Look around,

                                      All before you takes shape

                                                             Holds together.

2nd day of response - What On Earth Comes Over Us

Day two of answering "A Poem A Day " . So, look to the end to find poem from 2nd April.
And my response:
 

What On Earth Comes Over Us

Waves of Christmas music drift through my head,
It's that time of year again - happiness, tiredness, dread
That things won't all go right.

Where's the list I wrote last night , what shall I get for Aunty Chris?
What size turkey shall we have? Or this year shall we give it a miss,
Oh, I am in a terrible plight.

But what is the whole thing really about, why do we make such a fuss?
Why is the whole world celebrating , what on earth comes over us?
It's only remembering a baby's birth and that happens every day,
But this little baby changed everything as he lay on the soft , dry hay



A poem I wrote yesterday, just for the craic:

JUST SAYING

Love is you taking the bins out,

And noticing what's behind that bout,

Of anger.

Just saying...

Attentive too to times of tiredness,

Not minding that I've not got dressed,

But languor.

Just saying...

Knowing I like a different channel to you,

Giving me my chance as well to view,

For longer

Just saying...

And when the opportunity arises and we're able,

Taking me to dinner to sit at table,

And romance me for ever,

Just saying,

Day 2 of the challenge "a poem a day in April".

                     This April Day

Look out to sea this April Day.
See the horizon curve
Across wide water.
Waves churned by wind,
Break on shores,
Sculpt  fresh  forms.
And wind turbines,
 Like catherine wheels
Turn to the tune,
Of spring.

And just to keep you going, another little story:




                               The Torch                                                      

“What’re you doing?”  Rob moaned sleepily, falling into the middle of the blow up bed, his elbows and knees hitting the cold, hard floor, as Liz stumbled over him.

“I’ve got to go to the loo,” she whispered, groping in the dark, “where’s the torch?”

Rob’s hands felt in the pocket at the side of the inner tent.

“Here,” he said, clicking on the Tesco pocket-torch and holding it up.

“Thanks,” she grabbed it, pointed it at the zipper and quickly opened it.

            She stepped quietly into the outer tent area so as not to waken the girls, whose low, rhythmic breathing assured her they were fast asleep. With the sound of rain on the canvas roof echoing in her head, Liz got on hands and knees and searched for her wellies. Next she slowly swept the torch in a circle. Now, where was her coat? Finding it on the back of a chair she shivered as she put her arms into the damp armholes, making a mental note that she must keep her clothes inside at night.

Wellies and raincoat on, she ventured outside onto the wet grass. Lifting her face to the moon, half hidden in cloud, she noticed that what she thought was rain was only drizzle. From the din inside the tent she expected a downpour.  Another sound, dull and repetitive, drifted from one of the other tents. Someone was snoring. 

Liz held the torch tightly in her clammy hands. She could see only a few yards in front of her, everything else left in unknowable darkness. She picked her way through the first of the two fields she had to get through. A feint smell of smoke from the bonfire of the previous evening wafted in the air, reminding her of the BBQ, the wine and friends singing late into the night. The only reason she’d agreed to this camping trip. 

As she continued on, the occasional sound of cracking twigs from the woods around her broke the silence and made her start.  She tried not to imagine what might be lurking in the black.  Pulling her coat tight around her shoulders she quickened her pace, grateful there was a pathway to follow and greatly relieved when the lights from the toilet block came into view.

On the way back to her tent she wondered if this would be the first and only time she went camping. What she knew for sure was that if they came again they would have to get a more powerful torch.

Now i have to put my think cap on and get writing the poem for tomorrow.

See you then.

Below Freezing

Below Freezing

Hats, coats, scarves, gloves -
Rushing past each other,
Heads down -
Breathing clouds into freezing air
On this  crisp November night.
Actively anticipating,  warm theatre.
"Come on, hurry...   Nearly there..."
Looking around,
At first, not noticing  - quickly passing him.
Stopping, turning
Eyes searching each other's
Thinking, Knowing, agreeing
And at once in that look
Deciding .
Hunching over in his blanket,
Hands and face red- weather worn,
Looking up, telling with his eyes, his story.
We could not pass.
We could not pass...

And then we saw a kiosk selling hot drinks and food,
And decided to get him something.
Coffee with sugar, that will help warm  him
And some chips as well, with salt and vinegar.
We tentatively approached - not knowing how we'd be received.
Bending down, meeting his eye we ask,
"Would you like a hot drink, we've brought you a coffee
with sugar, for energy, ( we rambled, nervously)."
He looked up and from within brought forth a love
And thankfulness in the blanket of his smile.
"Oh ladies, thank you so much, thank you, thank you..."
Words from the depth of his heart that found my heart .
He declined the chips very delicately,
Had some earlier from another kind passer by.
We left him then ...
Forever changed...

Thanks

Thanks to all of you fans who have been consistently reading my blog .
There have been over 11000 visits now and I have had 187 comments
 on the blog itself. That is apart from the many comments that have
been posted through Facebook.
I am so pleased that so many have enjoyed my stop/start attempts. I always
 like to hear what you all think.
I don't always feel that I have anything much to say and find it takes me a while
to have the courage to post anything at all.

The Crippled Woman

The Crippled Woman
  Lk: 13, 10-17

I'd heard of this rabbi, heard His words were life-changing,
I was eager to  be there, to hear Him for myself.
My cousins brought me that morning, after a good breakfast,
To the synagogue  -  It was the Sabbath.
Warmed by the sun we walked and discussed what
 He would be like.
Through the throng - jostled and pushed - there we were.
Eyes, accustomed to looking at the floor,
Now glimpsed, only for a moment, His manly features.
Suddenly His gaze held mine, frozen in time
He spoke, called me over
The crowd, quiet now, waited for Him to speak again,
Parted as I shuffled forward - dazed.
Holding His hands above me, a warmth ran through my blood,
Easing all feeling of pain,
He uttered,
"Woman, you are rid of your infirmity,"
As if in a dream I lifted myself up until I stood straight.
After eighteen years bent double, I was overjoyed.
I danced around, thanking Him and praising God.
It was all so unexpected.
I have told many people my story of that day when
I met Jesus in the synagogue.

The Poor Widow

Playing with a biblical theme today. 
I enjoy looking at the women in the bible and imagining their story. 

The Poor Widow

With heart full of thankfulness,
Shawl gathered around bony shoulders,
Head bent and adorned with
black headdress-
Cleaned,
I step out into the sun
And walk the three miles
To the Temple.
The dust of the road
Dry - hot
Catches in my throat
Irritates my feet.
But, today joy replaces fear.
Today, I give all - Everything,
Because I want to.
Two pennies...
Not a lot, you might say...
But for me there is nothing left
To give.
I drop them in the treasury,
Hear them fall ,
Jewels for my crown...
God has given to me first-
Now...

Luxury

The poetry prompt for today was luxury. I couldn't think of much so just wrote something:

Luxury.

What is luxury?

Is it fine clothes, 

And upmarket cars,

Carpets with deep pile,

Soft underfoot? 

Is it eating out at a posh restaurant,

With jewels falling over a sumptuous table

While ordering the most expensive champagne,

(Which tastes no better than lemonade,  

By the way)?

Is it a sensational cruise around the world

On five star liner,

With people milling about 

Seeing to your every whim?

What a luxurious life that would be .

But no,

Luxury isn't any of that.

It is awakening to a brand new day,

And seeing the sun come up,

Getting out of bed on two good feet,

Walking to adventures you're ready to meet.

It is having family,

Friends, and other folk

Who make your life what it is

A luxury of parts.  

My husband is doing portraits to raise money for our little friend Ollie, who thinks it would be a luxury to be able to walk by himself  :

50 Portraits for Ollie.
This is a contemporary portrait 8x8 inches in acrylic of a little friend of mine Ollie . This is the first portrait in a series of fifty portraits that I aim to complete to help raise funds for Ollie to have an operation in America . This painting is from a picture that Ollies parent's sent me .The aim is that you send a photo of any portrait you wish to be painted - person, pets etc and I will paint an acrylic 8 x 8 painting on canvas board You donate £ 40.00 to Ollies fund for which you will receive your painting . This is a preview of the idea. We have to finalise the details I just want to get this out there. So please share.

Treasure Hunt

Just taking these six words from the November prompt to play with today:

relent, horrendous, artifact, lagoon, wobble, and plunder

Treasure Hunt

The plight of one
Who has an horrendous urge
To plunder,
Who does not relent
In pursuit of the priceless artifact
Which, when found makes him wobble
With delight and dive into
A lagoon of pure joy.

Playground

PLAYGROUND

We weren't allowed to stay in
Even if we had bad weather
With coats and gloves we were shoved outside,
And told  we could huddle together.

That was ok for those who got on
They made their groups and told their tales,
But for me there was a lonely chill in the air
As I stood alone beside the rails.

The icy wind nibbled at my ears
And I watched the others warmly wrapped
I was invisible it seemed to me,
Scared in my  loneliness-  trapped.

That was when I was six or seven
But nothing changed much in the years after that
Teenagers still being marched out of doors,
I'd try to join in, get caught up in the chat.

You'd think I was happy to look at me
Jostling with others, learning to survive
It  put the bullies in their place
They wouldn't win while I could strive.

I thought I'd left all that behind
Grown up, been healed, moved on
Until I stood outside the playground
As a mum waiting for my son

The social isolation I felt came back to me
Those fearful emotions were with me again
But now I'm a grownup and have to get on
I'll smile, talk and finally, maybe,  bury the pain

COUNTDOWN

COUNTDOWN

I have just seen the countdown
To Christmas.
Thirty eight days, six hours, thirty four minutes
And forty seven seconds...
Of course , it's less now
And will be every moment..
Why count the days
So fervently, so expectantly...?
Why put such pressure before
Limited brains...
Money must be spent-
Presents, food, clothes.
Many will be paying back
For many months to come
And all for a day
A day when we remember,
Or do we,
A little baby's  birth.

Day Off

I Don't Want To Go To School

That feeling from the night before,

Which I was hoping would be gone,

Was to my great annoyance

With me still, and I was wrong.

So, I called to mum and said to her,

I can’t get up today,

I feel too ill to go to school,

In my duvet I will stay.

She said here have a tablet,

Maybe you’ll feel fine

And up you get out of that bed,

There’s not much time,

For you to get ready to get the bus,

Come on now,

Stop making a fuss.

But I couldn’t move at all from my bed,

As dizzy feelings swirled in my head.

But mum persisted so I sat up

And as I did, I got sick in the cup,

That mum had given me water in

And as mum wiped the sick from my chin

She decided the best place for me was my bed after all,

She left me there, where I slept until nightfall 

Little Things

Little Things

That patch of skin, not in the shade,
Warmth on side of face.
Words cannot near the truth of it,
How rich I feel in Grace.

The little robin lyrics hidden,
Yet tells a joyous tale.
He hops about the garden
And up and down the vale.

Even the goldfish in the pond
Swims along merrily,
Not knowing how just being there,
 He lives and pleases me.

The gentle breeze to cool us down
Laughing children remove a frown.
All little things that if taken together
Bring peace to the soul, in any kind of weather.

GettingOut

The prompt for today from OctPoWriMo was "Things Aren't Always What They Seem.."
So I wrote this:

Getting Out

Toys scattered, mums chatting,

Happy toddlers  - busy, noisy –

Racing round the Church Hall.

Smile, talk, join in with “friends”.

Coffee please, milk no sugar,

Thank you, yes it’s a lovely day.

Yes, he’s sleeping through now,

Thank God, I get some sleep too...

Who to sit next to, whose face welcomes?

Everybody happy ...

Smile...

Can they hear a heart beating fast?

At last it’s over...

Time to go home...

To shut the door...

To be alone....

Mid Morning Walk With Uncle

This poem was inspired by a couple of hours spent with my Uncle going for a walk in North London.


Mid Morning Walk With Uncle

To the right or to the left,
New steps to take.
This way or that -go left.
A robin, friendly reminder, joins us,
Going before with joyous song.
We stop, admire the rich beauty -
A Japanese Red Dragon Plant,
Exotic,  glorious in Autumn sun .
But don't interrupt the story.

We walk on, uphill,  breathless
Slow our pace,
Enjoy sky - blue, clear
In still air,
words struggling to escape
And  reaching  the top, stop
Only for a moment,
To quiet the pulse,
But don't interrupt the story.

How far shall we go?
We'll see now, just keep going,
Maybe we'll reach the village.
All topics keep the
Conversation - the tale-  fresh:
The house with the huge gated driveway
Double fronted and double garage -
Double your money.
But don't interrupt the story.

The ruin of a Church left forlorn,
In the graveyard,
Seems right somehow.
Centuries of ordinary life
Witnessed by these stones-
We imagine ancestors.
The chap who bought four burial plots -
Just to make sure.
But don't interrupt the story.

At last we reach our goal-
The village high street.
Let's stop for a bit before we head back.
The pub or a cafe.
No, not Costa, not Costa...
Ahhh,  There, a sweet little place,
Hidden from view,
Cappucino £1,20.
Yes, that'll  do,
But Don't interrupt the story.

That Day

It's been a long time since I rambled on. Just a little funny...

That Day

That day when you look at the bath 

And realise 

The grime is now

Limescale

And you decide

Later, you'll have 

A shower.

For now, 

Bleach stained leggings 

Baggy, old t shirt

And a large quantity of

Cilit Bang

Will do just fine.

One hour and twenty minutes later,

Having

Scrubbed, cleaned and

Polished with a soft white cloth

You stand and admire

The shine.

No one needs a bath...

We have a 

Downstairs shower room.

You can clean that tomorrow...

Red Arrows

What a fantastic day in the Bay,

Train loads of visitors wound their way down from the station in large groups. Every train from early morning packed . People still on the trains and going on further than Herne Bay breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the empty seats left by the hoards  getting  off. We were walking through the park at 11.00 am and were caught up in a swarm heading for the seafront. Given that the Air Show wasn't due to start until 1.00 pm we thought that was quite impressive. All roads leading into the town were crammed with parked cars and camper vans ( quite a number parked up over night). 

And then, whichever way you looked along the coast there were people - not an inch of space to be seen anywhere. Queues for the toilets and  for all the eating places. We certainly had never seen this before in The Bay . 

And so many attractions too - Birds Of Prey, Snakes, Stalls of all kinds, the Amy Johnson project and old war planes to see on the ground. 

Enthusiasts had come from all over Kent and London, as well as farther afield such as Nottingham and Sheffield - and that's only from the few we spoke to.

I don't know how the numbers stacked up , but I've never seen so many people in The Bay. 

We saw The Red Arrows and a few others, but ended up coming home early because we were uncomfortable on the tiny bit of beach we managed to share with so many others. 

Chips

                                                Chips

Seagulls - 

Come and get my chips,

Mum got too many

Seagulls Look -

Come and help me

Here have some ,

Look, you like them.

Oh , right, ok have them all.

No problem,

 I didn't want them anyway,

Oww !!!...

Seagulls Owww !! _

You've hurt my hand

And now mum's shouting

You'd better go,

GO, stupid 

Seagulls go away -

You're

so greedy.

I'm Wet And Watery

After spending time with four of the grandchildren today and making up poems with them, I did this little piece for fun. I will get the poem that my four year old grandaughter created on my blog as soon as I can copy it. She wouldn't have wanted me to take it home so I'll have to make a copy.

I'm Wet and Watery

Every day I visit the shore

Each day different to the one before.

If the trees are still and all is calm

My surface is glass,  a comforting balm.

I like these days and look forward to

Children splashing and crashing the blue.

I help them along with my happy spray

 They do it again and giggle and play.

Yachters out for a spot of sailing

And further out fishermen whaling.

While I hold myself still and as calm as can be

They give the whales chase and sing merrily.

They have no idea I’m part of their crew

Making an effort, doing all I can do.

I’m little thought of most of the time,

So I love it when I can whip up my brine.

On blustery days I race into the coast

Huge arms of waves making the boast

That I am strong and make no mistake

If you get in my way, I’ll crush you like cake.

I bring debris with me, I throw it around

Flotsom and seaweed spread on the ground.

My angry time, brown and green churned

May do some damage but if you’ve learned

To keep your distance and always beware

We’ll get on fine,  you’ll keep your hair.

Getting it Right - or Not!

Getting it Right - or Not !

The strawberries were on offer today.
Right I thought, a treat on the way.
I pondered whether one punnet or two
And true to form thought we'll make do.
After all we have to have  cream
It has to be double - a lovely thick stream.
And then the meringue, I just couldn't resist,
Makings of a sweet that shouldn't be missed.

So imagine my surprise and dismay
When I said, after dinner at the table today,
I've got a special treat for you now
Strawberries, cream and  meringue-wow!
One said "what're you giving everyone else"
But the joke back fired against himself
As two of the party declined the treat
Said they'd  had enough with all the meat.

Well, I'm glad I never opted for two.
One was plenty without making do

Fairy

The Little Fairy

Is there a little fairy

In your house

Who cleans and tidies

And is as quiet as a mouse.

Does this little fairy

Go on holiday

Sometimes

And leave the place

Full of dirt and dust

And grime.

And do you wait

For your little fairy to

Soon come back

And put things right

Get things on track.

Well maybe it's time

You changed your tune

And saw that you could

Be a boon.

You could learn to

Cook and clean

And help your fairy

And be a team.