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Getting Ready For Christmas

Now I am like my grandchildren and counting "sleeps" until Christmas, so I suppose I had better accept it and admit that all the signs from August onward have got me to this point.  Here is a little something to spur others on too.

Christmas

I believe in magic because I am not dead
Last year I got three wishes and this is what I said
I don't want to be a turkey, I'll be a fairy on the tree
So I'm watching from my vantage point as you eat my family!

Cheery little ditty but wait for my one about the Christmas Fairy!  Happy shopping :)

Missing Laureate

October 27th, 2012

I am delighted to say that reports of my disappearance have been blown out of all proportion, not that it is the fault of anyone in particular (except maybe a certain photographer who lured, yes lured, me up the Malvern Hills on a very misty morning).  However, it has given poets in Worcester a few giggles and inspired a couple of poems. Originally, I was supposed to be the first poet encountered as people hiked, marched, clawed and gasped their way around a set trail last Sunday.  Unfortunately, a keen photographer thought the mist would clear higher up !!! and would thus be able to get a few good photos of the event.  Alas, wet and cobwebbed grass, sack loads of various animal droppings and silhouttes of trees were all that we encountered.  Having hi-jacked a couple of "willing" victims to incorporate in a couple of photos, the photographer gamely headed back for the carpark passing the bench where I should have been sitting in residence. However, all ended well and all participating poets spent a most enjoyable afternoon together.  Another "poetic journey" is planned for next year but, hopefully, in sunshine this time!

A Trip to the Malvern Hills

I am the Lady Laureate a sitting on this bench

I won’t attempt to climb them hills, I’m quite a comely wench
But I do take in those special views, different greens and trees and things
And it makes an interesting change from sandpits and the swings.

I usually take my grand-daughter to the park on sunny days

And she rides on her pink bicycle and very seldom strays
From the gravel paths and cycle routes  and around the great big pond
As the wind blows round her smiling face and tugs at hair so blonde.

I don’t know what she’d make of this, giant rolling hills

Well I couldn’t take her to the top 'cos my poor back kills
It’s years of high heeled fashion and that really nasty trip when
I fell up a step, nearly broke my neck, and heard my disc go “rip”

I’ve  tried that acupuncture, I even had warm jars
The needles didn’t hurt at all but the heat treatment left scars
I don’t complain about the pain but I couldn’t climb those hills
So I’m composing in the car park , me and some pink pills

I’d planned a little picnic but I didn’t have a hamper

Or a rucksack or a duffle back but you see I’m not a camper
So these kind of things are not to hand,  it’s sandwiches in foil
And a packet of those baby wipes in case they drop on soil

I thought I’d get an audience as people start their climb

But they don’t seem to notice me, or haven’t got the time
To stop and hang upon my words so eloquent and true
About these wondrous rolling hills and skies of perfect blue

So I’ll sit here with my sarnies and my glass of Adam’s Ale

Though the crusts are curling at the ends, the bread is going stale
I’ll pace myself for biscuits, I’ve a ginger snap or three
For when the wind gets really chill and arthritis hits my knee

But you go off and have your stroll, don’t worry about me

I’ll be just fine maybe write a line about this car park and a tree
I’m sure I’ll be creative well it’s such a lovely place
Don’t dally now, move on and walk while I stare into Space

 

 

 

A CHILD IS MISSING

and anguished pleas are hurled

at whatever god there may be.

Family and friends unite in disbelief

as do strangers with their underlying relief

that it is not one of theirs. Scared and shocked

they lock their little ones into the security

of closed doors, empty streets

while parental heartbeats race

through heaving chests.

A community unites, frightened by the ease

at which a child “playing out” has suddenly

become an abduction.

Someone in their midst insists they saw nothing,

have nothing to add, no story to tell

as distraught parents are trapped in the hell

of ignorance, not knowing how to cope,

while sorrow steals their hope.

London 2012 - Olympic Games

July 27th, 2012
Well, the day is finally here. The Olympic Games 2012 will be officially opened this evening. Seven years of planning finally coming to fruition. I realise there have been upsets, mistakes, incidents and accidents along the way but all that must be put aside as we join in supporting and celebrating the London 2012 Olympic Games. However, I couldn't resist just one final little dig .......

The Opening Ceremony

The Olympics, can I say that word?

are finally underway,
although not officially opened yet
teams are competing, yes, starting to play.
The coaches and their passengers
have set off to specific venues
while the torch is at its journey’s end,
It was on this morning’s news

It’s travelling on The Gloriana

Day Seventy of it’s tour
and will rest up at the Tower of London
before the crowds can see some more.
It will head towards the ceremony
later on tonight
when somebody, as yet unknown,
sets the cauldron alight.

Football kicked the whole thing off

but one teeny, weeny snag
someone hadn’t done their homework
and hoisted the wrong flag.
Well, it must be so confusing
different colours, different stripes
and let’s be honest straight away
they can’t always get it right

Now if you like your water sports

and diving’s  more your bag
unfortunately, all’s not gone well
there is a little snag;
when designing such a trendy roof
they made it larger than they oughta
and as the divers leave the boards
you won’t see them hit the water!

But the views from that there cable car

will take your breath away
Oh dear, what’s that I hear
it’s not functioning right today.
Don’t worry, there’s just a few of them
stuck skyward on the rails,
and it’s really pretty rare these days
that all the power fails

Now I won’t be a wet blanket

there’s bound to be odd glitches,
and after all there’s nothing wrong
with those fab green football pitches.
In fact, I think they’ve healing powers
‘cos an injured player couldn’t play,
left Team GB, joined his usual team
and scored a goal that day!

Well, I’ve watched the torch

I’ve rung my bells – Work Eleven Ninety Seven
‘tho I didn’t ring at zero eight twelve
It was more like five past eleven.
Image people ringing welcome bells
from the Isles of Scilly to Australia,
welcoming OUR Olympic games and
all it’s paraphernalia.

This evening should be fabulous

the opening ceremony lies ahead,
although it is on rather late so I might just be in bed!

Enjoy.

NaPoWriMo Day 12

Isn't it great that so many people have joined up to this self discipline?  I'd just be lazing around the house, watching daytime tele and wondering whether to have KFC or pizza for dinner - I wish.  However, I look forward to opening up the NaPoWriMo site and seeing what the next prompt is, although I have to confess that I am ignoring the one for today, but I have treid to keep the basic theme.


Day 12 - Prompt: take a poem (in a foreign language and attempt phonic translation, or something similar)

Learning a Language

I’m not good with foreign languages

I think it’s those guttural sounds

So, for me, today’s poetry prompt

Is well and truly out of bounds

It’s not that I don’t like foreigners

And I love different foods, and sun

But when it comes to speaking the lingo

Well, I just don’t know how it’s done

At school we had lessons in German

But I’ve only ever been to France

So my counting and short conversation

Was never really given a chance

I’ve tried the CDs and earphones

I quite fancied Afrikanns

But that’s really guttural and Dutch like

So I ‘d have to depend on my charms

I’m British so I just look helpless

Shrug my shoulders a couple of times

Shout ‘cos I think that’s helpful

And if that fails, well I’d mime

NaPoWriMo Days 9, 10 and 11

I'm not keeping as up to date as I would like, but I am managing to follow the prompts this year.  Anyway, here are my latest offerings:

Day 9 – prompt : Persona Poem

A wedding is announced

I don’t want to complain but it’s always the same,

Me doing all the jobs.

They just couldn’t care and it’s really not fair

They’re useless, uncaring, they’re slobs.

Oh Daddy dear why don’t you hear

They’re spiteful and I really miss mum

That woman is awful and I know that’s is lawful

But she’s only a nasty step-mum.

She dotes on her darlings

(they’re puffed up like starlings)

She bought them new clothes for a ball

She told me to stay, I’d just get in the way

Said I couldn’t go at all.

But fairy godmother came, said what a shame

That I had to stay home alone

She used magic powers and, for a few hours,

I went to the ball on my own.

All went to plan and I met a young man

He’s a prince and a jolly nice fella

Says I’m the love of his life, wants me for his wife

Yes me, little Cinderella.

Day 10 – prompt:  steal a first line from another poet

(Pam Ayres – The Harvest Hymn – first line only!)

Give thanks for the Harvest

All is safely gathered in, the barns are full of grain

Nature now can take a rest and leave off chucking rain

Last year it was hosepipe bans, this year too much water

My house is falling down ‘cos you’ve washed away the mortar

Geraniums did tempt me and I grew them by the score

Uprights and the trailing ones, I had them by the door

But when you summoned rain clouds to dampen earth’s dry land

I think you laid it on too much and things got out of hand

For now my garden’s flooded, in fact, it’s more a stream

With only mud and puddles so I’ll have to change the theme

I wanted plants with colour, red, spicy, orange hot

But you had other plans for me, a water feature’s what I’ve got.

I give thee thanks for harvest time and food to feed us all

And answering last year’s prayers for water when you got the call

But now we’ve had a deluge, it’s brought on my sciatica

Please collect your rain clouds and bung them over Africa.

Day 11 - prompt: use all five senses

Jack Frost 

I heard him cracking at the window

fingers scratching to get in

And watched as his etched his message

In patterns too intricate to copy

As I opened the door he morphed into

Vapour as gentle as a baby’s breath

Covering me with the icy chill

floating in the ether

His smell, caught in my nostrils,

Then froze in my throat

I tasted dampness

And decades past