February 24, 2011

Parting Pieces / Jiggered Out

Choose and lift your sections
And keep them all in mind
Breath in the scene, serenity
Took care to leave behind

If partially they're missing
Slowly aiming to deplete
We'll take them with us everywhere
Secure while incomplete

Eventually we'll find us
Fitting in the scenery
For I cannot lay the biggest piece
Until you lay with me


They rattled and fell, in a shower of curves
Little hands spread the pieces in vivacious verve
Helping my niece ('til her parents were back)
Build a huge cardboard jigsaw, of mare pulling cart.

First, found the edges (and corners of course)
To encircle the beautiful, white shire horse
Gathering colours that probably matched
Pray with a thump that the piece would attach!

Building and building, not getting too far
Come out, you white beauty, where ever you are!!
'Won't let this beat us, we'll get there perforce!!
Despite just connecting the ass of the horse!

Pulling my hair out, quite near to crying
Why were the bloody blue bits not complying..?!
How hard was it really, to join up a colour
Exactly the same as they are to each other..!!

Slowly - then quickly the image appeared
Relief, pride, exhaustion, a victory cheer!
The picture was ten times the size of the lid
Could not wait to show off the jiggy we did!

Then in trots big Bud, comes a-crossing the floor
Old paws dislodging the bits from the core
Sits on it, drools, a huge swish of the tail
Bits flying all roads - there goes our travail!

I'll never do jigsaws again in a hurry
Bring me out in rash, get me all hot and surly
And I'm just watching Bud as he playfully frolics
I was so close to hanging that dog by the bollocks!

February 15, 2011

Drip, Drip, Drop / Much Too Tasty

                                                (based on a true pair of eyes)

You wiped them away many times
Those little diamonds
You said they were sweet
Though they tasted of salt

Drops ran and moved you
Diamonds of water
Salty and flowing unashamed
You'd kiss them away

One day you caused them
Not through joy
You threw me a tissue
Where the salt crystals dried

I looked at you
Hands remaining in pockets
Now the feeling was sour
Salt was sweet no more

Hurt is a mighty force
She's always there to create a sparkle
Water and salt with no grains
Yet still stings the eye.


        Much Too Tasty!

Too much salt is on those chips
Will give you cracked and dried up lips!
Make you drink a ton of water
In moderation is how you oughta

Shake that cellar in you hand
How can I make you understand...?
It's not too healthy but tastes nice
Oh, won't you take my rude advice!!

You need your kidneys working fine
On dialysis you'll spend your time!
Just cut down, gradual, bit by bit
It's best to calm this salty hit!

Too much salt is on those chips
Will give you dry and scraggy lips
So if it shows upon your face
Why let your insides go to waste...?!

Fabulous prompt! Last piece in memory of my bossy old gran to my oldest brother.......

February 14, 2011


His wonderfully-handsome-gorgeousness is 22 today. My Valentine baba. Words can't begin to describe how proud we are, and untidy you are.  But I forgive the trail of beauty products, uni papers, bottle tops and clothes you leave behind you. You far make it up in other ways. Heart of gold, but still on the stingy side. Look out for your siblings. NEVER forget my birthday (coz your dad won''t let you). Have more friends than I do hair follicles - (I've seen today's Facebook....!!). The list could go on........

Born on Valentines Day - exactly when you were due. So very apt, too, with your pretty-boy features and vast female attention (especially the ones that came to the door at 3 in the morning coz they were 'missing you'). You stayed true to your desire to pursue a musical career. Since you were 12 you always said you'd be the drummer in a band. And you have twice - with The Valentines - where you won the prestigious Battle Of The Bands title and had 2 songs added to the Stirling Rocks album. And then on to Casino - where the talent, songwriting and passion is taking off. I predict big things for this band, with music this good it would be a crying shame otherwise. But you guys are playing it cool and even so, local radio have taken an interest.

There's not much I'm not proud of. You are a decent lad, working hard for his future. That really is all any mum could ask for. But I'm privileged with so many added bonuses. So I'm leaving this song you wrote, about your first love. Lynette. My favourite Casino song. I'll give them a second listen and they'll be hooked!

February 08, 2011

The Janitor's House

      I've really enjoyed this week's prompt. I was taken back to primary school, so it has a kiddykins feel to it.  The poem is based on a real character. Mr.Chapburn.

It stood there on it's ownsome
A box-like little thing
On the outskirts of the school
The heart of Elspbeth Wing

Forever at  a window
Straining at each noise
Making sure the girls are all
Respected by the boys

Checking out the lavvies
Drying up the floors
Sweeping leaves, come rain come shine
Closing all the doors.

His tool bag at the ready
Such a range of metal goods
Would curse at rude graffiti
Paint it over, plane the wood!

He'd help the nurse with noses
Empty sick bowls out
Get to you in 0.2
If you let out a shout

Shoo away the loose dogs
In case they dropped their ends
And nipped an ear to make sure they
Won't piddle there again

Checked out names and I D
After visitors had said it
Would look you scornfully up and down
Till happy with your credit.

In summer grass was tidy
No shoot bigger than an inch
The football parks, had perfect marks
Nets fitting at a pinch

In winter snow would never
Keep away His girls and boys
Repair the grounds and aftermath
The snow storm near destroyed

His school was his almighty
The pride of Elspbeth Wing
His chest would puff when hearing
All his little angels sing.

He lived alone and loved it
In his sole, full company
The perfect job, no nagging wife
In single husbandry!


Mandy skipped along with mum
The silly little soul
Slid on her back and heard a crack
There goes the cooking bowl!

The curtains parted quickly
Looking from an upper pane
Was relieved to see her mother
Coming quickly to her gain

'Who's that..?" young Mandy asked her mum
Pointing to the curtain
Mandy watched as tidily
He tucked his baggy shirt in

'Oh, no one love, not any more
The janitor's now dead
Got killed when a huge lorry-load
Of books fell on his head'.

But up got little Mandy
Smiled -  inside he felt a warming
He waved, then turned and so prepared
To start his Monday morning

February 02, 2011

Cobblebrae Crescent

                                (based on a true street!)

Sane were the tenants of Cobblebrae Crescent
Twisted and dippy but mostly all pleasant

Gippo - his caravan out on the lawn
Jackie - quite slutty, no ladylike charm
Were considered a couple but oceans apart
She'd shout nasties at him, near breaking his heart
Hanging around him till he'd right her wrongs
Ripping his soul to the words of a song
Gippo held tightly, a motionless past
Loving her more with each insult that lashed.

Alison Done things in orderly fashion
Lill gave her class an enormous tongue lashing
Our Miss and her mother, a hard path to tread
Keeping one from the other in honour and stead
Ali was bare, a father was driven
What precious he tried, would not be forgiven
All she had left was the sting of her belt
Embittered and broken, so young skin would welt

My auntie and uncle lived there with their daughter
All fleeting and diving - was quite hard to spot her
I was scared of their stairwell, the blue light that flickers
And hated the dog with it's nose near my knickers!
Auntie was lazy and tried to stay young
But the harsh light of day hit the mirror that stung
Always a welcome though manners were loose
Came away on a high, due to sugar abuse.

Maizie and Albert, were the oldest of tenants 
Always had faith and a heart full of penance
The nets on her windows were brilliantly white
Repetitive chores lasted into the night
She'd struggle at times to keep herself steady
With mints there to freshen her breath at the ready.
The cross on her wall was a permanant fixture
Too much rum ended in her baking mixture.

My beautiful William - those baby blue eyes
Never knew how I loved him and tumbled inside
I'd scrap with the big boys - on his team I'd win
Was heart-bloody-broken, he dated my twin
I was the tomboy, she was the floss
Softly and often she'd gather the moss
Always told mum, that she'd 'fell down that hill'.
Though I tried and I tried to do that at Will

Roberto, Italian, 5 kids but no wife
Snuffed out in an accident learning to drive
He married again, a young slip of a thing
Though she had to leave school before wearing his ring.
She bore him more children, a daughter and son
Left him soon after, he'd baked his last bun
Shot off for a future, a youth that was wild
And continued to sleep with her oldest stepchild 

The house on the edge with the very low roof
Belonged to old Tom (88% proof) 
Lollipop man for the primary school
They all called him 'Grampa' , thought he was quite cool
Little did they know when crossing the road
He was squiffed when performing the Pelican Code
But 4 on the dot, when the kids were all gone
It was 'changed, pub then bookies' to put a bet on.

Tessie was timid, a keen hideaway 
Would peek through her blinds each and every day
How she would love to just breathe outside air
Without those mad heartbeats resurficing fear
Relying on others, a constant routine
Oh, what she'd give to be comfortably seen
She knew that in life the next door she'd go through
Is the one that death brings, in that definite queue

So there, on the cobbles, the glass and the bricks
Dwells a manic infusion of healthy and sick
Some stories would floor you as you take your walk
If Cobblebrae Crescent's bricks started to talk.