April 27, 2015

Johnny's Journey Hame



The viaduct holds ever near, whispers for the heart to hear,
inhale that vast majestic view, before the town rolls unto you
And resurrects straight from the station, patriotic aspiration,
Mother, in her allied skin, ignites a pride from deep within

Where dire skies could never take, clouded visions for one's sake,
home to clear and died for dales, and fair skinned Annie's up for sale
A hero's mini-welcome home, where stories thrive and bravely roam,
missing all the echo closes, tenements, and I supposes

Young mums kept up all night long, bairns shoogled sound by song,
night shift laddies, eyes red raw, sharing bedrooms, coughs an 'aw.
Thread and needle, make do and mend, becomes a rather valued friend,
candles burned out, flame remote, dark as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat

Children playing up outside, old Jen taken for a ride,
stealing sweeties from her shop, Hell to pay if they get caught
Contented weans, yet God believers, entertained by chalk and peevers,
far too many there to chase, all pacified by His good grace

Hunting by both rod and gun, pots of stew the size of drums,
hame made soup from duggie bones, Irn Bru and tattie scones
Eating grand when Johnny's back, home, and off the beaten track,
when every inch of every glen, must shape his shadow there again

A roll with Annie down the hill, all heather stalks and wanton will,
her kiss like satin on his lips, tingled toes and finger tips
A thistle's thorn could never sting, away the pain that absence brings,
just promises in jeely jars, diamond rings, and battle scars

Much later, after Sunday baths, piano songs and hearty laughs
the men smoke like a reeking lumb, till whisky knocks their senses numb
And morning mirrors heave a sigh, reminded of his next goodbye,
all uniforms and worried soul, preparing for his chosen role

Off now young man, one time more, as conflict may knock on our door -
a muckle train takes you away,  as glorious as come-what-may
A Flying Scotsman's younger brother, wrenching firstborn from it's mother
a route from which one can't depart - the train-tracks of a soldier's heart
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since this week's prompt hails from my motherland, I went on a nostalgic journey using some Scottish vernacular.  I think most will work out the words for themselves but give me a shout if their are any queries...... 

April 21, 2015

Never Trust A Toilet Mirror!



A trusted friend I had in you
solely hanging in the loo
Lighting up above the sink
framed in bright flamingo pink

Helped as I made up my face
a lipstick kiss I'd soon erase
Little Miss Perfect in reverse
winks and pouts we would rehearse

You saw my tears and shared my shame
agreed, I won't do that again!
Unladylike from pees to vomit
zooming out me like a comet!

Heard my secrets and my farts,
got zit-pops down to a fine art
I'd bounce about in naked pride
and sing most ghastly as I dried

Then came the thought to rearrange,
my rooms in some domestic change
I fancied you out in the hall
t'was not a clever move at all

Looking pale and feeling shitty,
no longer sharing in my pity
Every time I went to tinkle
I never noticed that deep wrinkle!

I've never changed my food of late
yet you indicate I've put on weight!
Beauty should come from within
but I'm worried by that double chin!

Does my dress cling on this tight?
I must have looked an awful sight!
My hair's not doing as it's told
all waves and knots and uncontrolled

My senses ask, is this a farse?
Just look at thee size of my arse!
I should be gorgeous, but can see,
you won't co-operate with me!

You're dull and hard and can't reflect,
a two-faced friend with low respect
Back in the bathroom, so it seems
or find yourself in smithereens! 

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April 12, 2015

A Sole And Her Sea




Walking home late from the tracks of my past
I peer at horizons, with souls ever vast

I breath in the sea air, and cry to the night
as front waves appear in the sodium light

As lonely an isle with a lighthouse of love
whose beam is fast fading and yet to shine of

No lovers returning, no aquatic potion
just cold crashing loss between hearts and the ocean

Yet under the water swim thousands of you
temperate actions and hullabaloo

Shifty and scared, brave, taking chances
bullying, battling, swift primal dances

Gathering shoals of different kinds
colours that blend, others that blind

Shaping your world as nature intended
instinctively loving, a partner defended

I could capture you all, my ultimate prize
tossing back those I may come to despise

With all of you fishes held under the sea
can't one come ashore and try capturing me?
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April 11, 2015

Dear Adam

Dear Adam,

Next time you want to slice an onion, and you're too lazy to rewash the chopping board, could you not use the back of the phone directory.  It was the smelliest search for a number I've had.  Ever.

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April 07, 2015

I Want One That's Not Chocolate!



                              Sorry this one is a bit late - trying to catch up over the Easter holiday.  
                                                      Just a quick effort with little tones of my own Easter childhood!


Every year on  Easter Sunday
shiny shoes and cotton shirts,
All that Sunday Best malarkey
bored to death in that huge church

Hymn books open ready
morbid songs they make you sing
Hold your breath next to old Charlie
or inhale that  musky ming!

In the morning came a visit,
Easter Bunnies clad  in blue?
Just nutters in a onesie,
fooling nobody but you!

Little lamb a-bounding,
with energy galore
Till the day he's on the menu
feed a family of four

Hens-a-constant laying
eggs-on-the-constant boil
Colours, faces, and cool patterns
for us to smash and spoil

Gee - all those shit straw bonnets
piled as much as you damned please
Then a prize for putting up with
hostile birds and angry bees

It's sad to hear the story
crucifixes, rolling stones
All forgotten once the wine flows
with no sin there to atone

When He's born we're given presents,
given chocolate when He dies
Forgiven each hypocrisy
before His very eyes

Such memories to last me,
arms so full of daffoldills
Stolen from a nearby cemetery
looks nice upon your sill

Same time again, then, everyone
school holidays of Yore
From Fridays through to Mondays
bring about that tin foil war
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April 01, 2015

♥ PrettyBoy's And Girls Come Out To Play ♥

Really looking forward to my son's engagement party this Friday.  Out of all the PrettyGals below (and quite a few more not in pictures!) at last he's found Thee One.  He's always been a bit of a player outside his band's heartthrob drummer status, but I've fond memories of his Girls of Yore.....(and some not so fond!)  Now my baby's growing up!  Not in any hurry for grand-babies just yet, but I'll buy a ball of wool in just in case.....................



                                                              Stacey


                                        
                                                             Emma



                                                  Dionne



                                                    Nicola



                                                   Lichelle


                                    
                                          Carlene

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It's nice to know he's at last settling down.  I just hope at the ultimate alter he doesn't do a Ross from Friends and get his women mixed up! 

March 29, 2015

Familiar Steps





       The prompt looks similar to my own town, so I took things from there (we're mostly well behaved) but I'm referring to street night life in towns all over. 

'Come unto me', the borough sighs,
amid the air its streets supplies
Offering a multitude 
of promises, the night exudes

Ladies dominate the clubs
and smirks at all the men she snubs 
Cobbles making ankles twist,  
shines sequins dresses through the mist 

Venues oozing pitchy beats
while skin and speakers overheat
Euphoric verse from local bands
as strangers hold each others' hands 

A blind spot found to consummate
that pent up vibe hormones equate
No safety sake and such like sins
watched over by store mannequins 

Alternate night life rarely sought, 
where armies ran and soldiers fought
Replaced by battles outside bars, 
the rush of trains and midnight cars

Homeward boundings of the younger
slaves to mashed heads and false hunger
Statue crowned with traffic cone
whose iron heart has turned to stone

Unmarked cop cars cruise along
preserving peace and drunken song
Until the city's whisper ends
preparing for its deepest cleanse

And in the morning, bang on six, 
the scars of late post-teenage kicks
are strewn like litter on the breeze 
contagious and desired disease

Noise and clutter reign again
business cards and fools campaign
In my town there, familiar screams
till evening's bursting at the seams

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Ordinary (Kinda) Days 9

It has, at last, been weather-able to spend some time out in the garden.  Just a general tidy up as it's a bit too early for The Cheaper Half to plant his seedlings and stuff.   Anyhow, seeing as it was the week-end, before my mucky duties, I opened a bottle of Chianti  11.30 am latish afternoon to help kick-start things off.  

Our poor back garden fence has been crying out for a lick of lacquer for yonks and today I answered it's poor needs. I was creosoting along quite the thing until coat number two and there before one was a message, glowing fairly brightly, wishing our neighbours  'A Happy Christmas From Adam'.  Somehow the greeting that PeaPod wrote on the fence with snow-spray stuff years ago had illuminated.  That giving hubby something else to moan about, my futile attempt to part-cheer and part-seduce by means of a washing pole-dance failed miserably.  Trying to kid my body into thinking it was 20 years slinkier saw me hitting my foot off our nearby strawberry fence in mid swing and resulted in me landing on my arse and squashing some new strawb plants.  Boy am I in the gardening bad books!

To make matters worse - while tidying our front garden - we got captured in conversation with the one neighbour in the street the the rest of us try to avoid. God, this woman can yap for ages about utter, utter tripe.  Before long she puts you into a dialetic coma.  Edging away from her is no good as she just raises her voice!  Talk about buckets of shit and whisks - she seems to knoweveryone's business. We do have the ''there's somebody on the phone''  trick down to a fine art if PeaPod is home!


In a jollier stunt this week, we did get quite a good view of the eclispe.  We saw it quite by chance on route to our GP with old misery guuts here.  Daylight did gear off a bit and looking to the sun (without glasses) there was a very defined slice of sun and moon.  It only lasted around 30 secs but it was fairly spooky when the sun path in the distance come rushing back towards us. I almost expected to float....! 

I was somewhat intrigued by the re-burial of Kind Richard III on the news.  It seemed emotional for some during the service and I did comply with the minute's silence.  His new resting place is now Leicester Cathedral as opposed to the Leicster car park they say he was found under.  It's all good and respectful like, but I'm finding it a bit difficult to believe.  I mean - you never even got cars, never mind car parks in medieval times.  How easy is it to lose a King in the first place?  Rule Britannia my arse!

Rounding off the week - my older son managed a visit with his brother at home, and seeing them out the back having a kick about was very heartwarming.  I usually take snaps of such rareties but unfortunately my camera battery charger is lost and I've not replaced it as yet.  Just as well I'm a talented artist and managed to sketch a picture from memory. Here's *hiccup* to the next O(K)D.........
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March 24, 2015

♥ - Woody Woody Wuv Hearts - ♥

                  
                                                                                 Kept things simple and silly this week!
Still standing there, that rugged tree
adopted by both you and me

we watched the world from way up high
all love 'n' stuff  into the sky

our perfect hide-away from school
playing both the owl and fool

a knight clad in maroon and grey
you stole my very soul away

just off that homebound shaded path
we kissed, we climbed, we sung, we laughed

catching leaves that fluttered down
you twisted them into a crown

for I became your wood princess
all floaty in my week-end dress

fading then regaining shoots
deciduous  from hair to roots

with careful chips we carved our heart
the time had come now to impart

it meant so much, so much to me
us spending time around that tree........................................

adult years now bring me back
retracing steps and stirring tracks  

announced yet in the here and now
amid the blossom, bark and bows

an arrow thwacked and cutting through 
initials joining me and you

a solid tree destined to last
oh, how these years have whizzed by fast

my first true love, my heart's big deal
oh how I wished that you were real 
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March 19, 2015

Streets Petite


Just a rushed job from me this week - mind went into cantbearseditis and stated there tonight - I may return tomorrow to edit. This is fairly shitty!  

A patriarchal landmark traditional and tight
  not obsolete nor populous just sweetnesses and light 

Little village luring, with a wry historic smile
  cobbles, gaols  and folklore to both frighten and beguile, 

Curves along with character, mysterious and proud,  
  always something happening but very seldom loud

Gulls a constant nightmare with their daring swoops and pecks
  shops and public houses gain the utmost of respect

Floral scents and sea foods, pastries and parfait
  a potent breath of yesteryear for you to take away 

Houses thatched and steadfast, reach the roof edge as you stand
  streets' adjacent windows sees the neighbour's holding hands

The huge protecting steeple guarding all within it's view
  counts more visitors than residents forever held in lieu

Return for pure perfection never-tainted souvenirs
  a whisper venerating for the whole wide world to hear

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Feel free to  join Magpie Tales via this link

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March 05, 2015

Dear Adam

Dear Adam,

Please remember to put a note on the shopping board to say we've run out of shampoo and conditioner.  Washing machine liquid pouches do a pretty shit job of untangling bedraggled manes.......

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March 03, 2015

Froth Off



Nein! Nein! Nein!  It's bathtub time
    should cleanse the guilty and sublime

Staring, daring in the raw to
   bubble up within Grimm's law

Praying, staring at the door
   the slightest noise one can't ignore

Eva's razor left behind, no Braun
    to make sure her blades glide

Dirty, flirty boots to clean
   a fuhrer's passion so pristine

Quelling, smelling, edelwiess
    few words said but so concise

Actor, factor, years to come
   secrets washed with bath ring scum

Nein Nein Nein!  It's bathtub time
    be careful with that dirt and grime

Hates, berates each finest hour
    refuse his offer of a shower.............................

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February 28, 2015

'Aw For Seany's Wedding (Part One)

In my absence from Blogger those long, trying months where, quite frankly, I feared widowhood upon me, there were happier, uplifting and gracious days through the darker ones, the best being the wedding of my stepson, Sean.

My hubby (The Cheaper Half) and I each have a child each from our first marriages, my daughter ,Kerri, of course, being the other.  The pair were used to each other at access weekends and holidays, ect.  Sean and Kerri became remarkable close, especially through their teenage years and shared cigarettes laughs, alcohol loyalty and discreet tattoos other interests. 

Over the years, life took them off to ventures and places new and Sean and his father lost touch once he moved from the area.  Kerri had also settled in London with a wonderful hubby and her dream job.  Years passed and on one of our phone calls, Kerri passed on the news that there was a relative of Sean's asking how we were all doing.  So cutting a long story short and some credit (for something good this time) to
Facepuke, we were all back in tough again.  And in remarkable co-incidence given the size of Britain, Sean had settled with his fiancee and kids just a mere 15 miles away from Kerri in Oxdford.


The step-sister and step brother with their respective partners met up a good few times and before long Seany's wedding came about and I have to thank Kerri and her hubby James for the travel and hosting arrangements. We probably couldn't have made the wedding without them.


 Circumstances went that we were unable to arrive in London until the night before the wedding, meaning The Cheaper Half and his first born were reuniting for the first of a very long time, at the church just prior to the service. The instant those arms went around each other brought tears to everyone's eyes....leaving the gals having to reapply the mascara before the bride's turn to do that came along.

What was more poignant than anything though was Seany telling his dad it was 13 years, 7 months, 2 weeks and 2 days since he last saw him. That was scary said out loud. In a fast-paced life time passes so quickly, you never seem to clock the years accurately.  All I know is despite the reason for not keeping in touch, the heart never lets go completely.  And now the future holds plans anew.



Interspersed in this post are some of the wedding pics most speaking for themselves (which may bugger up my grammer into weird sections) so please  click on the bigger pic. Outside of all the marital stuff, is a day to remember for so many reasons.  It is true what they say about absence and heart.

February 24, 2015

Gullable Travels

the prompt took me an unusual route this week as I viewed it as humans unwillingly being drawn into the mouth.  And as I always stick with the first thought that comes into my mind (apart from one shameful time) thus doth ended it up, like........innit......sorta fing....


We're head to toe in questions, finding answers without proof
holding on to anything the mind accepts as truth.
We struggle with the present , can't foresee, or won't recall,
lest it unfurl there in front of us, some won't notice at all.

Doubt those hanging gardens now the lighthouse beam ran out
those falls will minimize you as you stand and scream and shout.
Aurora holds on to the night and shocks the midnight skies
defying all that wonderment in spectral alibi's

Encouraging our children to believe in certain things - 
stout characters clad all in red, enamel thieves with wings
Knee high men in shades of green, their rainbow's end to find
cocoa ridden rodents with foiled goods to leave behind

Visitors from other realms, whispers in the ears
eyes that see but never sought, until one disappears
Clairvoyant, tarot reading, message carried in the stars
a higher force then, to decide, what is and isn't ours?

Demons, angels betwixt thoughts, in anno Domini 
heavenly dimensions, hell flames scorched across the skies
Followers that shrink then grow, impending storms and views
Gods, protectors, idols, drawn into that finale ruse

Believe or non-believer, comfort given, losses gained
left to our own devices, either willing or ordained
We'll perform the whole world over in the Circus Of No Sense 
amongst our many life forms let the show of life commence.

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February 18, 2015

Just A Matter Of Maturity

Why Little Girls Mature Quicker Than Little Boys........






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February 17, 2015

Shush! M'Lord Shush!

                     
                           That's what I love about these prompts - they take me places our of the blue!

                 Shush...........!

                    The court is once more in its session, 
                    the accused standing there in the dock,
                    Her smile just a dirty-life lesson, 
                    as she stares at thy man in the frock

                    The jury's been sent out a message, 
                    not another adjournment allowed
                    As she stands nonchalant without presage, 
                    her particulars sought and avowed

                    Some wonder about motivation, 
                    how the story took time to collate
                    Arrested and charged at the station, 
                    then an urgency to mitigate
                   
                    Not quite committing a murder, 
                    of marriages though, one might say
                    Never fearing a door made from girders, 
                    till death leads her to judgement day
                   
                    She will not be making plea bargains 
                    or changing a word of her brief,
                    Leaving wigged ones to spill out the jargon, 
                    of this potent and hot red lip thief

                    The verdict presides there in blue ink, 
                    no more time to forgive or begrudge   
                    Or care what that whole courtroom might think, 
                    when you're secretly screwing the judge............................!

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February 14, 2015

Love, Loss and Lullabies

It's been  a crazy sort of week.  The biggest and best news was hearing that my darling daughter Kerri, and her hubby, James, have been accepted by the council and social work to become adoptive parents.   Over the next five months they will be undergoing training and assessments and then it will be a matter of presenting a case to the courts and deciding on the child that will be so lucky to have them as parents.   I may be a grandmother again in time for Xmas!  I'm so proud of them both.  Some would give up the ghost after being unable to conceive as it can mentally and physically drain.




On a sadder note, my cat, Boaby, died.  Such a strange death as he literally just got fed, jumped upon the couch to go groom himself and a few minutes later fell on the floor dead.  I felt it for my hubby as I wasn't there and he tried to revive him by similar means as one would give a human.  After reporting the death with the vet, he said it could either have been a heart attack or aneurysm.   He was only nine and otherwise fit.  He now shares a grave space with the other two cats we've had over the years.  He wasn't an overly affectionate cat, more entertaining and the only one he ever trusted holding him was my son PeaPod.  I'll miss his following us about the garden and streets.  We clipped some fur from his tail and chest which my hubby is going to make into a fishing fly and calling it The Boaby Dazzler.  He won't be using it mind you, it'll be kept in the glass case beside his other creations to memorialise him.



And to finish off  this rather teary week,  PrettyBoy and his girlfriend got engaged - totally out of the blue!  Brought me back to my own engagement to his father.  We were in our flat watching The Proclaimers' first appearance on Top Of The Pops, when he piped up:

  'Wanna get married, hen...?'

No ring, bended knees or romantic gestures,  just the two of us in opposite chairs sitting  puggled after just putting our firstborns to bed after a hectic day.  I gave a little 'whatever' grunt in reply.  How's that for romance?  At least my son done it in fairly fitting style with ring and surroundings!

I'm leaving a video of a song I've enjoyed listening to over the years which, despite the lyrics, hold the bumpy ride of marriage wonderfully.



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February 09, 2015

Heavenly Housewives


                                       Can't believe it's been 7 months since I last was here!  I'm back and plan to keep it that way!        

From top to bottoms, sighs controlled
and busty sighs in clouds of gold
She worries over skin and limbs,
her little cherubs dance akin

To strew her palace, endless toys,
sticky fingers, mess and noise
A routine balance now to pot,
a lover of her own free thought

No marching orders listened to,
awaits the voice of you-know-who
The second he glides through the door
their naughtiness abides no more

He cannot understand her fuss,
no subject matter to discuss
Just adoration all for him -
her darling little nephilims 

Bedtime calls and seizes them,
it's off to la-la-land again
While mother hangs up wings and breath
so very little she has left

To go towards another day
where morning steals her knight away
For battle new and battles won,
angelic daughters, saintly sons.

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