FAREWELL MUM...

Farewell Mum

We celebrate now in love, Mum's life from start to end

And we're glad we knew her, as Mum and as a Friend.

We remember all the love and lessons she taught us

And thank her for the care and generosity shown us.

Although Mum's now left this earth and taken flight,

We know she's that voice in our heads, our guiding light.

Remembering her will be easy, we do that anyway;

Because there's an ache in our hearts that won't go away.

But we're pretty sure that up there in Heaven

She'll be painting and teaching pottery once again...

S, P & R (26.9.17)

IT'S INTOLERABLE!

It’s extremely rare to actually enjoy

Travelling to your place of employ

(Whether by bus, tram, car or train),

Since common courtesy began to wane.

It’s people who snuffle with whom I take issue.

Surely to goodness they could carry a tissue?

And malodorous people should surely desist

From travel with others. I really insist!

How I curse the man who invented the MP3;

Just an invasive, pervasive musical tin can to me.

Putting up with their racket is only for mugs

So I praise the woman who invented ear plugs.

Driving myself is not the preferred mode

Because of the plethora of idiots using the road.

It seems lack of road courtesy presents no bar

To their having a licence or driving a car.

Rudeness it seems is not confined to transport.

Lack of respect for others is now a national sport.

Those queue jumpers are a right royal pain too
While you’re patiently waiting for food or the loo.

What about those who dial the wrong number?

Especially at night, disturbing your slumber.

Perhaps not so bad if they’re apologetic;

But no; they get abusive and you get apoplectic.

If they insist they have dialled correctly

And it’s you at fault, just tell them politely

They lack the IQ to use a phone at all!

Then hang up noisily to end the call.

Many’s the time though you’ll probably find,

You can’t sleep; you’re going out of your mind

Because your neighbours are loudly celebrating.

They don’t care that your walls are vibrating.

So after much thought, I’ve the perfect solution.

I’ve moved to a cave; no more noise pollution.

No more smelly, snuffling, musical travellers.

No more rude callers or late night revellers.

The roar of the surf is my constant companion;

Squeaking bats and wildlife live in the next canyon.

I do have one request now I live like a hermit…

Please bring me some earplugs on your next visit.

SMG © 2008

THE LOST LEGEND

Wind breathes softly through deserted halls;

Sighs and whispers echo on vacant walls.

I wonder who was it abandoned this place,

Ruins of a long ago home of a now dead race?

Half open doors hang on hinges, wrecked and rusty,

Dank dungeons below smell mouldy and musty.

What horrors occurred in these rooms so ghastly?

The mournful wind reminds us of those gone lastly.

Once did these rooms ring with the voices and laughter

Of elves, dwarves and fairies and all who came after.

They told of trolls and goblins fought in battles, glorious

Of great Kingdoms lost and won in wars, victorious.

Skies above these towers built by those mere mortals

Teemed with dragons and griffins as sculpted on portals.

The moat below was filled with dolphins and mermaids

Swimming through mysterious grottos and cascades.

Sorcerers and witches brewing cauldrons of trickery,

Tempted those noble folk from the path of honesty;

And once in the depths of disgrace and depravity

That chivalrous race was reduced to awful ignobility.

There are times you may hear soft murmuring on the breeze,

Of names long forgotten, now only seen carved into trees.

Legend says they'll return some day when the time is right,

To reclaim their Kingdom, and rule us with their former might.

© SMG

TWISTER

        

A gang of us was workin’ at “Ruther Glen”

But Bill drew the short straw to clean the pig pen.

Ned and me was just watchin’, side by side

When Bill chucked a shovel load; said we was snide!

All I could say was “Bloody bloomin’ heck!”

‘Cause Ned was standin’ there with nary a speck

While I was covered head to toe in muck.

There’s just no explainin’ that kind of luck.

“Bluey, why don’t you just throw young Ned in?”

Said Big Sid Reilly with a lopsided grin.

“No, I couldn’t do that,” answered I with a wink.

“Whatever would me dear departed Mother think?

‘Sides, Ned’s me mate and mates don’t do fer each other,

It’s not his fault Bill’s got no sense of humour.”

All this time Bill was lookin’ perplexed,

Convinced as he was that he’d cop it next.

See, I’m well known for me fiery red thatch

And people expect a temper to match.

But I’m an easy going’ bloke, as a matter of fact

And always make a point to think before I act.

  

It was a few days later, out at the old dunny

Somethin’ occurred that turned out to be funny.

The walls fell down, with a crash and a clatter.

Everyone came runnin’ to see what was the matter.

When the dust had settled, there was poor old Bill

Lookin’ shocked and shaken and more than a little ill;

Half standin’, pants down, he was a sight to see,

‘Specially since the Missus had the ladies to tea!

The Boss decreed it must’ve been a freak kinda twister.

Nevertheless, Ned and me left urgent, to visit me sister.

 © SMG