Car park blues

22 Dec

I spend my time
Waiting in my car
Boxed in these white lines
Like a wasp in a jar
But I ain’t buzzin’
I ain’t in the mood
I’m counting the minutes
‘Til I come home to you

See I got these kids
With their active lives
I got one each
From my first 3 wives
So I run them around
Little estranged dads do
Just counting the minutes
Til I come back to you

It’s Christmas Time – think!

19 Dec

This poem was written by my 10 year-old son for school and I love it. While so many want to close their curtains and shut the world out of their enjoyment of Christmas, our children can teach us much about thinking about and doing what we can to help others. I think his line ‘Little kids know half what we know’ is interesting because it shows the faith that children place in adults to put the world to rights. Are we doing enough? Think!

THINK
THE LIGHTS ON THE CHRISTMAS TREE SHINING AND GLIMMERING
THINK
A LITTLE GIRL COLD AND SHIVERING

HOUSES EVERYWHERE ALL DECORATED
THINK
A LITTLE BOY BEING HUMILIATED

LOTS OF FAMILIES HAPPY AND JOYFUL
THINK
A HOMELESS FAMILY SAD AND TEARFUL

CHILDREN PLAYING IN THE SNOW
THINK
LITTLE KIDS KNOW HALF WHAT WE KNOW
THINK…
THINK…

O Christmas Lights

12 Dec

O Christmas lights, O Christmas lights
Your knotted wires enrage us
No matter just how long we spend
It seems this task will never end
O Christmas lights, O Christmas lights
Be good or you’ll see scissors.

O Christmas lights, o Christmas lights
Fif-ty percent aren’t twinkling
You all shone bright an hour ago
But now you’re up, only half glow
O Christmas lights, O Christmas lights
Why? I haven’t got an inkling.

O Christmas lights, O Christmas lights
Why did you burn our house down?
Was it because you were bought for pence
Or electrical incompetence?
O Christmas lights, O Christmas lights
You briefly lit our whole town.

Don’t hurt the animals

10 Dec

There’s a spider in the sink, in the sink
A great big spider in the sink, in the sink
There’s a spider in the sink, but it’s just having a drink
It would be a shame to squish it, don’t you think?

There’s a mouse under your bed, under your bed
There’s a mouse under your bed, yes – your bed!
There’s a mouse under your bed, don’t call the cat – why not instead?
Grab some cheese and make a new friend – call him Fred.

There’s a cockroach in your shoe, in your shoe
‘There’s a cockroach in my shoe?’ Yes your shoe!
There’s a cockroach in your shoe but don’t flush it down the loo
Give the little fella something nice to chew.

There’s a burglar in your home, in your home
There’s a burglar in your lovely family home
Make that criminal atone, smash him with a garden gnome
What an unexpected way to end a poem!

Home is where the arse is

9 Dec

It was chaos at home, dad was fighting with mum
So I went to the library to study some
But the library had only one table and chair
Thanks to the government’s approach to financial affairs.

I got there early and I claimed the seat
Like a famous explorer with new land at his feet
My bladder was empty, I was all set to stay
Studying ’til the library closed for the day.

Shortly I realised I wasn’t alone
By the meaningful cough of an elderly crone
You know the sort that at night keeps her teeth in a cup
I averted my eyes as she shambled up.

She hovered awhile hoping I’d take the hint
But her pronounced limp didn’t fool me a bit
I’d seen her in action in the Post Office queue
She was as fast a greyhound smelling fresh rabbit stew.

Next came a man with last week’s newspaper
I thought to myself, what’ll be his caper?
With no subtlety he gave an elbowy nudge
But there was no way on earth I was going to budge.

So it went on like some sort of game
They all came, the laboured, the tired and the lame
But I held my place, tightly clenching my cheeks
Hours went by, but they felt like weeks.

‘Til finally something in my head went ‘ping’
I’d studied all day but I’d not learned a thing!
I went home to my family and relative peace
A home is a place where every arse has a seat,

Talking of walking

27 Nov

Languid coils of potential energy
Striders purposeful
Almost runners
Wiggling bottoms
Different walking people

Bouncers defying earth’s gravity
Shamblers reluctant
Limpers and gimpers
Starers and blinkereds
Myriad ambulant


 

I knew a man who I liked so I stalked
But the older he grew, the faster he walked
‘Til it got to the point where I couldn’t keep up
So I had to trip him to force him to stop

He tried to get up and give me the slip
But I had him in quite a vice-like grip
I didn’t ask why he’d kept such a pace
He knew I was death by the fear on his face.

The Picnic to end all Picnics

22 Sep

Battenburg and Belgian buns
Sandwiches and sausages rolls
Lemonade and ginger beer
Go play child, your father’s here.

I sat and watched them from afar
They didn’t eat or drink a thing
They talked and talked and both looked sad
As they broke the ‘and’ between ‘mum’ and ‘dad’.

I don’t know what they talked about
Neither comforted the other
As both of them began to cry
While a world away, alone sat I.

In a little while my father came
Goodbye my pet, I’ll see you soon
He went away and that was it
Leaving me, my mum and our picnic basket

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