Won't You Come Out Tonight....?

I just had to add this (short) video. You'll smile all the way through! Happy Halloween.......

Linger

Little mite - tender to the touch.
We laid you down to rest
The sky grey and still, as was your arrival
Silence will never be golden

The days I had planned for us

Mine for the grace of love
Then the light extinguished soon after you appeared
Can you ever show me clemency?

Now I stand at your marred stone
Linger in earth's shadow.
And for the next one hundred years shall I stand
Waiting in the Silent Yard for pardon.

Forever Young

The young at heart
Shall never die old
Thousands of stories
There to be told
Living a lifetime but
Dying to see
If the heart and the hand
Will lead them to thee.

 Magpie Tales link on my sidebar....................


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iPodding Well Love Him.......

PrettyBoy has settled into university well. Knuckling down and gaining many female admirers. Commitment to his band and studies stops him from wanting a new girlfriend at the mo' and for a mum that's both comforting and worrying, but I guess the one-night-stand thing hasn't amounted to split hearts or condoms after 4 years so I'm trusting his bouts at the uni bar (where he can afford 3 times as much booze to your average bar) will end in the same fashion if the hormones are raging.

For now, I'm a lucky mum.  He still commutes back for his weekend job where he porters at our local hospital, as so far Glasgow jobs on offer don't pay as well. To be honest, I think he'll miss being a porter. One, for driving the little carts about the place and challenging his mates to a 'race' around the stock rooms and for listening to the gibberish  nonsense the patients come out with after theatre, as he wheels them back to the wards. Because he wears scrubs and ID, some patients reckon he's a doctor. My favourite story was when an old dear around 80 was returning to her ward. She looked at PrettyBoy and said.

"Is it over then.....?"
"That's you" he replied.
"Thank God for that......I'm getting too old for babies!"

He's not entirely sure if she was joking or it was the anaesthetic effect. Either way, he'll miss it. You get really attached to some things, don't you? But he knows he'll be moving out permanently soon. Came back with an iPod for me recently and filled it with all the favourite songs of mine he could remember. I always used to borrow his you see, on my trips to town or London. PrettyBoy is weaning me off gently, until his ultimate move. Softening the blow if you like. And he didn't need a Masters degree to figure that one out. Rossi, I know you're not gonna be that far away, but you're on the scary road to independence and that takes bigger courage than the amount I'm letting on I'll miss you. Go for it, son!

                                 

Below

She woke up in a dark room
Familiar all the same
It's chink of light, sent a vital invite
As fear was laying it's claim

The outlet had her puzzled
It was far up off the ground
With dimension, shape and depth
To leave a Cartesian profound

How on earth she got here
She's unable to recall
Was she pushed? Did she volunteer?
An accidental fall?

But the outside world above her
Still left it's usual mark
 Motors ticked, and music played
 A dog's excited bark

No-one answered to the cries
She mustered as she fret
Won't some-one ever hear her
In this musty oubliette?

After hours and hours of waiting
The outlet door banged open
And a little man with torch and food
Assessed how she was coping

She was so, so pleased to see him
Her eyes they brightly shone
He smiled and laid the tray down
Pushed some numbers on a phone

Before getting a chance to eat
In this cylindrical fell
He says 'Tell your mum that you're okay
You're being treated well'


Magpie Tales link on sidebar.....

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

October Paths & Fallen Leaves

Your path is the one I walk through the  most
Once I take careful steps as I climb from the boat
There I would falter, there I would shine
As the sun had your shadow stand behind mine.

I'd turn and I'd face you, a breath-taking sight
My funny Helios, my sunny delight
The fire would be roaring, the shack would be warm
Soon in the wood house we'd cook up a storm

You'd play me the song that was written for me
I'd laugh at the words, let your reckoning be
Then I'd help sweep the leaves that had clogged up the path
Soon we'd lazy away in our pine vapour bath

Morning, she came with vigor so hard
Mother was dealing her powerful card.
Leaves would be gone and replaced all with white
Then you'd have to move on by Her seasonal rite

Until next September, my sweet woodland friend
When the greens turn to amber and two hearts transcend
In that rickety boat I'll appear through the mist
In the autumnal weeks will you only subsist
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                             Fallen Leaves.........!

Autumn came and Autumn went
Crispy leaves all Heaven sent
Then it rained and soaked the path
Slid and fell right on my ass!
Now leaves were wet upon the ground
All curled and shades of gold and brown
Though careful where I put my shoe
It wasn't leaves but doggy poo!
Autumn came and Autumn went
Crispy leaves all Heaven sent.

Magpies and Dances and Rich Cyber Chances

                 Poor Drawn Little Moth
           Just That Glow And That Flicker
                                 Will You Stick Or Singe?

                                                         

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Here's my slightly late Willow Manor dance info. I had it on draft, so have combined it with this week's MT.......

 I recently attended my first ever cyber ball. Willow - Magpie Tales creator - throws a party every year, so despite being tee-total (well, near enough) I thought I would tag along. So my shopping and date went something like this:

The dress I chose in green. It's not a colour I'm overly fond of but it does compliment my strawberry-blonde hair rather well.
Accesories:
I'm not big on bling usually but I'd be having a tug of war over these two - the simple and the rich:

......earrings and bracelets would be similar, also.........
 Shoes -
As I can't wear them in reality, I've gone for a younger style, somewhat strappy and glitzy. Thankfully my long, beautiful gown helped cover any heel wobbles.

Bag/Purse:

I like my bags to be somewhat different - for easy recognition - as I'm always forgetting where I put them. This little number caught my attention:

My date - Australian actor Simon Baker a.k.a: The Mentalist. Well, he'd have to be to date me! That fair hair - those reckless curls - green eyes - sexy smile. I think that Aussie men are the sexiest and funniest in the world. Here's a few pictures of my Australian America-based beauty:
The Drop dead gorgeous one:

The Serious 'I-need-a-shave-one' One:

Before fame, even when he was lying in the gutter, begging, he was gorgeous:

Of course, dating someone who is in the public eye, on and off screen isn't easy, as last year's function events show. The paparazzi and glossy mags never give you peace - it was click, click, click.....everywhere we went!:

Sadly, the pressure got too much and we both parted straight after Willow Ball (him back to his champagne lifestyle and me to earth with a bump!)  I have enjoyed this experience, so thanks to Willow and her amazing imagination! See you next year with a different partner. Oh, this fame game........................
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Dramatic Aromatic

I love how life can call to us
In many different ways
How cotton feels in summer
Under lots of sunny rays

The feel of leaves against your cheek

A dwindling from the trees
When autumn Maidens wisp the winds
In tiny twisterees

The joy of Spring approaching
Picking daffodils galore
Their stalks all wet and sticky
Your wellies even more!

Then the mighty cool of Winter
The master of all seasons
Captures coloured lights and more
For lots of different reasons.

But all year round, there is one thought
That brings me straight to you
When I sniff the perfume bought for me

From 'aromatic' you..........

......find more Magpie Tales on my side bar. Just click!

No Good In Bed/Bad

It isn't always transparent but........
Most girls like a bad boy
but they like being bad with a good boy
Even more....

In (toilet duck) tion Week

Through until Friday, Prettyboy is attending university for his Induction Week. Where other campers on campus meet and studies and various body parts and tattoos are compared. His first comment to me on his return of day one was "It's a pound a pint at the uni bar!"  Well, at least he's getting his priorities right. And next week, he fends for himself. Thrown into the wonderful Halls of Residence with bills to budget. If the pictures on his phone are anything to go by, it's a very modern and clean university. And if he don't scrub right round the back of the lavatory bowl at least twice a month, he'll be getting his own initiation present from me on my monthly visitor's pass - namely head down the pan and flushed! Oh, Rossi.......time's almost upon us and I've STILL not found those umbilical scissors......

Grub's Up/Little Nunnery

Time has been a bit of git lately and therefore I've had to post two weeks' worth of Magpie's.  Once I get something on draft I feel obliged to finish it. But for now, here's the poems. Both of them took me a joyous trip back to childhood. Hopefully I'll get round to reading  all the posts buts MT is vastly - and deservedly - growing! Fingers crossed!

GRUBS UP

We never bought apples - just raided the trees
Me, Molly, David and Pippa-Louise
That sour-faced old dragon stood watch at her door
So we eyed up the fruit  in her orchard some more

Hard thing to judge was her various moves
Afraid she'd return as we gathered the goods.
For she'd rather the fruit lay rotting on grass
And so scared to be caught in her nightmare impasse!

But we loved dented apples in wrinkly sheaths
We'd spit out the pips that got stuck in our teeth
We'd brave out the sour taste, inspected the holes
Where a grub or maggot would often patrol

We never bought apples - just raided the trees
Me. Molly, David and Pippa-Louise
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 LITTLE  NUNNERY

Every second Sunday, we'd get togged up in our my best,
To make a blessed journey - all skips and hops and rest.

Coins jiggling in my pocket? Checked a million times or more.
Our mouths secrete this tempting sweet  - celestial allure.

We'd ring the bell and stand up straight, smooth the creases from my dress
Greet Mother with a simple smile (and great need to confess!)

Despite her being very old she memorised our names
And placed her hand on every head, her love it did pertain.

We'd get a peek into their house, all beauty and serene
Mahogamy and brass attached to every single beam.

In our peaceful, short duration, her smile wiped us of our sins
As background music waved the air in tones of violins.

We'd buy a slab of tablet - sized in a perfect square
And ensconce a little candle in the iron holder there.

Then the journey back was lengthy, but the sweetness tamed the time
Our home-bound steps were filled with joy and quality sublime

Then time took on a different spin, we grew up all too quick
And phased out our Sunday visits for our teenaged bags of tricks.........

I read the news one quiet day, our Mother with our Lord
Still Superior and humble, gaining her own sweet reward

I  made for her some tablet, bought the brightest, fragrant flowers
And laid them both upon the step, I'd spent my Sunday hours

Rust Or Bust....(and Kerri's A Must!)

It's such a wondrous feeling - holding baby to the breast.
Soothing and assuring, when the the little one protests.
Mother Nature visited and she bestowed on me
Two human-dairy hills of flesh, all filled-up for free!

The milk rushed through in mighty flow, my boobs a-heaving mounds!
Baby suckled happily - until one day I'd found....!
The liquid looked like milk-shake - a kind of peachy-pink
My God! My baby!?  What on earth - is this stuff safe to drink..?

So, I called my midwife right away, expressing sheer alarm
But she calmed me as I calmed my daughter, wriggling in my arms.
Just a case of rusty piping  (at the let-down reflex bit!)
It's a rare but safe occurrence (and I felt a proper tit!).

Alas, my baby settled and I had a little laugh
Decided I would treat myself and have a frothy bath!
But I heard a rattly, jutting sound a-coming from below.
The water? It refused to run and I sighed a huge "Oh, no!"

The piping it was rusted, the screw threads worn away
When the water ran, a shade of tan, it finished off my day!
I turned off the taps, and then I lapsed into some futile humming
What a day, I'd had enough -  of boobs and tricky plumbing!

To be a Magpie - click on the pic on my sidebar!
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Today, I received a letter from my wonderful, daughter Kerri (KrazyKek). Enclosed was a newsletter from her work, including an article she wrote on  invaluable Dental Nurses. She herself is an R.D.N. (state-registered) and a wonderful attribute to her profession.
     At 12, Kerri needed braces and the usual taunts were shouted her way from other children (as life goes). Jaws. Metal Mouth. Iron Maiden. That sort of thing. Thankfully, she's always had a great constitution and could tongue-whip them back with a vengeance. But the experience pretty much mapped out her future career. She vowed to be in dentistry somehow when she was older, mainly to support other children that needed braces, too! Nowadays it is quite hip to have braces and there are all types of gems that can be added to them for funky fun! Attitudes to dental work is changing. But she's right - we would all be stuffed without Kerri's.
    She doesn't like me bragging about her, but that's tough. Here's her picture and article: She's second from the left in the photo! Remember to click for the bigger pic!

In the past (over 10 years), I've tried to visit her surgery as much as possible, just to get a feel of her. I remember my first visit. There was an article up in frame in the waiting room from a woman who'd had cosmetic surgery and the results were amazing. She commended Kerri highly and I was proud to read those words. Kerri's responce? "All in a day's work, Mum!" Or, to her, no big deal, but I was sooooo proud.  I even needed her services first hand when I had some dental trouble on one of my visits! I tried to be brave for her sake and vice-versa but later we admitted we were both shitting ourselves. It was the first time she ever felt nervous with a patient.  Mummy's blood and pain, you see! Bless her!
              What I admire the most in her, is her ease and attitude, especially with children and old biddies.  If a kiddy is nervous or a bit overwhelmed, she'll get a glove and blow it up, pop the inflated fingers on top of her head and cluck like a chicken, or draw eyes either side and make it into a fish!  Nine times out of ten she gets a smile or giggle from them and it's not so bad.
         She's nicknamed 'Matron' from her dental partner, Andy. Runs a very tight ship and hates if temps move her stuff around. Kerri would lecture a kiddy on the dangers of too much sugar and quite happily pop a sweet in her mouth after saying bye bye, to them!  And I won't even begin to mention her addiction for Scottish tablet! But she's a Mental Dental nurse, with an abundance of knowledge and charm and I upload these little pics taken over the years, as a tribute to my daughter, Kek!

Love you, too, Kek....XxX....big heaps!

The Sparkler

The robbers got away with it, a load of household goods
And silver, diamonds, gems and things -like a proper burglar should.
It happened to my neighbours - (she's a stuck up ruddy mare)
They came home to an empty house - them things they weren't there!

It had only been the sixth time that they'd holidayed this year
Such a shame, an awful circumstance when life is so austere!
They'd usually ignore me or avoid my very stare,
It's horrid being invisible when indeed you're blummin' there.

But today they rushed to ring my bell, and asked me if I saw
Anyone?  I shook my head and gave a loud 'pshaw'.
Of course I said I didn't (and it was a true egad)
But the answer might have doubled if I hadn't or I had.

So the Boys in Blue came visiting, insurances were called.
A story plead and things were said (situation NOT forestalled?!)
Anyhow, it settled down, things smoothed out as they wanted,
And lived the life of well-to-do, and loudly - how they vaunted.

A few months passed, and then at last came lots of sunny rays
My garden slowly budding life, brightened up the days.
I found my can eventually, hidden in the rough.
And went inside to fill him up with water and feedstuff.

Then I heard a little rattling, a scrapey-scrappy sound
I tipped my can right upside down and gasped at what I'd found.
Diamonds of pure craftsmen's work, sunk in heavy, golden chains
Oh, how life throws out circumstance and strangely does pertain.

So knocking hard upon their door, I handed them a gift
And a touching little goodbye card obtained thanks to their grift.
Alas, I am a-moving on, I'd love to "stay and chat!"
But there's so much to do now my deposit's on that flat!

The Bedsit.

Little room with no view,  I occupy you,
you're filled with a comfort divine.
Lain curled in your bed, dreams spin in my head
while your duvet and my legs entwine.

Our space is so neat, compact and complete,
not much scope for the notions to fall.
Bed only just fits, lamp sullenly lit,
as my silouette creeps up the wall.

The windows lay bare, as I dwell in your care,
no drapes or shades cover the moon.
Just a cloud or the stars, through the parallel bars,
bless us our joyful attune.

Some would dismay at tonality greys
surrounding this truncated cone.
 No luster or lure or sheets haute couture
grands a place up to feel more like home.

With minimum space and the simplest of grace -
we crown the apartments beneath.
But I love my small home, it's where I belong
Who needs palaces or laurel wreaths?

  This poem was inspired by Willow's picture prompt at Magpie Tales.

Brass In Passing

Magpie # 23

Old apartments, faded walls
Toned down lights, as nights befall.

And through the day they pass you by
Brushed by coats but not the eye.
A cylindrical brassy chamber
To snuff out flames before the danger.

If they needed you at all
Would you slide easy from the wall?
Would you function as you should?
Before the flames engulfed the wood

Who has cared to go peruse
The embossed words for future use?
No-one has swabbed your cobs away
As spider's spin, where you've to spray.

Can they rely on  pure assumption
You'll take up your primal function?
So many who don't give a jot
If you work  - or you do not.

So many years of disregard
Some learn the burning lesson hard.
She'll visit you, the fire sprite
Seeking reasons to ignite.


Old apartments, faded walls
toned down lights, as nights befall.


This piece has been written by a Willowy prompt for we Magpiers:
http://magpietales.blogspot.com/

Sunkissed and Killed!

Magpie 22.......

You're growing so fast. I can't believe the changes in you. You're now mature enough to be tied against a pole, forced to stand straight and remain in this position until I decide what the next move will be. I'll not be around for hours at a time but I'll make sure you're secured under intense heat from the window panels.  I'll let the sun scorch skin until it glows red and the oppressive atmosphere of your dwelling snuffs out invading insects in minutes. Even in this heat I won't be giving you a drink until dusk. I will, however, feed you for they say sustenance is crucial to development. The healthier you are, the bigger joy I get when your time comes.  I may even slice a member of your family up before you, out of curiosity. What's one little sacrifice from an array of essences? Easy pickings.

I am a repeat offender. Every year this urge takes over me. My seed is scattered and the rewards are sweet. The glistening and perfect plumpness of your young skin, ripe for the taking and the basic taste sensation of your flesh can only lure me back time and again. I know you won't be here forever. And that's why every year I can't help but subjugate your future fruits, gird up your loins and keep a very close eye on you........................................

Nobody Nose But I......

Today, I am a moaning blogger.  For the first time in at least 10 years I have a rotten head cold.  Apparently, I sounded like a 'malfunctioning chainsaw' in an effort to breath through the night and if there's one thing I cannot stand (next to needing to vomit!) is a stuffy nose. I prefer my breaths to be alpine-tinged and pure but through the one nostril would have done!

               Anyhow, this week is a fairly important week. There are major plans in the making. On Friday my gorgeous daughter and her hubby arrive. Gingernut (the younger son) is headlining with his band No Need For Idols in Glasgow's Barrowland.  As yet, his big sister and hubby haven't heard them live, and this will be the first time Kerri and James will be faced with their masses of fans. I leave the floor after enough snapping suffices as the mid-floor, booze ridden lino takes on new dangers and in the mass hysteria there's no telling what could clunk you on the head - most likely a stray tambourine.  Roll on Friday........

              This Saturday, I am looking forward to a 25th Wedding Anniversary do.  My ex-sister-in-law has invited us all to their celebration. I managed to stayed married to her brother (who'll be there with his 3rd wife and family, too!) for 5 years, which was a huge achievement on our part, but we are still all drawn together via my darling daughter. I'll let you work it all out for yourselves for now as I'm due another sneeze. Roll on Saturday........

               This Sunday afternoon (before Kerri and James return to London) we are holding a garden-party celebration in honour of PrettyBoy for being awarded  H.N.D. (Higher National Diploma)  in Music and Sound Production. This has secured him his place in Glasgow Caledonian University.  His 'proper' graduation ceremony will not be until September in the Town Hall just before he and his mates start Uni.  They will be draped and photographed in the usual gear ect.  Anyhow - I did expect to have the garden decorations and posters finished and printed by now but I have just had a good old 'feeling sorry for myself', day today!

               One thing that I have decided on is what will be printed and pinned to the window. Now for those who are new to the blog, my oldest son, Ross, (PrettyBoy) is a good lad but extremely vain. Never passes a mirror or window without checking his hair ect.  So here's the picture I edited after scrawling hundreds of them to find him in a drink-induced dafty look. Roll on Sunday........

......checking himself in the mirror for the 50th time!

His 'graduation' pic.............that's my clever, funny and mental boy!  Roll on September..............!





You know what.....?  I think that's my sinuses starting to clear...............

A Slice Of All Right

Bitsy little Opinel, my implement of faith
you accompany me around the house, it's every single place.

Bitsy little Opinel, in your home of solid wood.
You've helped me scrape off fishy scales when I'm preparing food.

Bitsy little Opinel,  you helped me turn a screw -
when a driver wasn't handy, I relied on little you!

Bitsy little Opinel,  you cut that carpet fine.....
which tucked along the skirting edge in adequate design.

 Bitsy little opinel, you're ready at the hilt -
you nip off garden buds and things that either stick or wilt.

Bitsy little Opinel, your blade is ready fast.
You cut the twine with steady ease -  man's strength you did surpass!

Bitsy little Opinel,  what a nifty blade you've got.
You sliced the bag, I sowed the seeds -  in terracotta pots!

Bitsy little Opinel, what about those leather shoes?
You quickly pierced a new hole, now the straps no longer loose!

Bitsy Little Opinel, oh how you master slits -
and sharpen wood and leave behind cute curly shaven bits!

Bitsy Little Opinel- my saviour of the view -
who doth need a handyman when I've got little you?

Bitsy little Opinel - in your wooden home of beech
I'll treasure you forever more...Dieu vous bénisse.

Bitsy little Opinel - I could big you up all day -
but blades have to recuperate once grime is wiped away.

Oh, Bitsy little Opinel - whom I love through and through......
there'll never be an Opinel of  ever losing you!

Written from this week's prompt at Willows......magpietales.blogspot.com