I sat and waited for the ice to melt
I wonder why, I wonder when
Our world will be turned upside down
With boxes packed and things moved round
The creatures staring without sound
They wonder, too, of me and you.
I wonder when, I wonder why
Things change about us by and by
Boxes unpacked and items set
In places which we might forget
We wonder, too, of things we do.
When is the now, Why is the wonder
Couples torn and ripped asunder
New loves come and take their place
Where briefly there was empty space
Wondrous gifts which we behold.
Why? Because of items moving
When? Next Saturday, of our choosing
We’ve tidied up and made some room
Rosewood dresser, table soon
Chinese altar, all will grace our fold.
NB: ‘Couple’s torn and ripped asunder’. An armchair had to go!
Because I’m a dizzy doozy at the moment. I wouldn’t normally share my texts, but this morning’s are a bit special 🙂
From he to me
Loving you with all my heart and soul
Take care, my darling, please be whole
Step lightly and take Nature’s wine (H2O)
And I hope today you will be fine.
From me to he
I found it hard when time was due
For me to wake and start day through
My mind was fuzzy, body shook
Not in a way where I could ‘up’
I’ve had a shower, taken meds
But whoozy, doozy in my head
I’ll go to work and play the martyr
Look forward to the evening’s start … Er
Poetic licence, I took there
So you, my dear must alst take care
Drive carefully, with eyes on road
And easy when you shed your load!
Loves you, Babaloo xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Apologies for any delay. This message has been to space and back.
No trees were harmed in the sending of this message; however, a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.
When crossing boundaries you’ve set,
he’s showing signs of disrespect.
A little here, a little there
are sure fire signs he doesn’t care.
Your feelings hurt, your love subsides;
you sense you’re taken for a ride.
His acts put paid to words he speaks;
your mind starts reeling, something reeks.
There’s something rotten; in a state
you seek to refresh, but it’s too late.
Yet find more things in heaven and earth
and motion set for your rebirth.
Because you’re worth
I think I saw, or heard
that she f***ed off with a t***
But rather than a sh*****
He was sprinkled with glitter
And they wed on July the third
She was like Piffy on a rock
Such a barmpot
Not so much maudlin
as a mitherer of Mum
When pretending to be ill,
she went up the wooden hill
with a doll and a drum
and a kick up the bum
From a glossary of classical musical terms
Canon? The salesman struck a chord,
despite the drone in his voice.
This would be my fifth printer,
and not a major choice.
He continued his exposition
with an impromptu display of glee,
before his intonation
turned to parody.
His pitch was espressivo
and the form was filled – hey presto!
But the printer was temperamental
and now his trill‘s castrato
Better late than never!
Customs: Pie and chips
Childhood dream: Librarian
Found on the Street: Penny
Lover: Too young for that!
Dress: Flat cap
Hometown memory: Black eye
Notable person: Dad
Outside your window, you find: Fields
Today’s news headline: 50 years hence
Scrap from a letter: Dear me
Animal from a myth: Dragon
Story read to children at night: Magic Faraway Tree
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: Whippet poo
You walk to the border and hear: Whippets howling
What you fear: Whippets
Picture on your city’s postcard: A pack of wild whippets
Wild whippets whipped their wiry tails
Wondrously wagging at the witches of Pendle
Lowry landscape leapt up on the hills
Tall, pointy, witches hat mills of yesteryear
I spent much of my childhood in Burnley – very close to Pendle Hill, renowned for its witches. Read all about them here.
He was a yob; just a boy
His mood was one of doom
He’d step on his pets
Snip them with pins
Stun them; he was nuts
No pal for his lap
Nor God for his dog
He was a liar; off the rail
Destined to live a life of evil
Stressed, he got his just desserts
Take a peek in the keep
Her eyes sparkle like the stars
Beauty reflecting in their gaze
Tears fall as rivulets on strawberry cheeks
Reddened; echoing the beauty of Mars
She barely sees through eyes a-haze
Star-struck, out-of-luck, ne’er to meet
No hero glance. Her beauty bespeaks
the eyes of the star on her to beat