just some more thoughts on life and humour

 

 

The promise

I was walking through the village as I did most every day,

To the post office and the shops I would usually find my way,

My dear old mother told me I should walk along the road,

And if I met with a neighbour I was to help them with their load,

 

Her plan it was a simple one for I was getting on in life,

The walk would do me good and I just might find a wife,

Twice a week I took the road to the village and the shops,

The rest of my time was spent tending to my crops,

 

Mother she was fretting and asked me to make haste,

Before I was too old and my time would be a waste,

But I was sure of foot and my walk was for her too slow,

You stay home she said and walking she did go,

 

For it is the way with women as they walk along the road,

They stop and chat with anyone to make a lighter load,

She told them one and all that I was getting on in life,

And if it took her dying breath she would find for me a wife,

 

It didn’t take her long as she was sprightly on her feet,

And soon enough she brought along a girl for me to meet,

We spoke at length and thought each other to be just fine,

Pretty soon I had asked her if we could marry and she be mine,

 

The day it soon arrived and we were to the church to wed,

Your father would be proud she cried if he wasn’t long since dead,

Soon enough the wife announced that we were now with child,

Mother cried her eyes out I thought that she was riled,

 

From the kitchen window I saw her; she was talking to a ditch,

I thought her going senile and this could be a hitch,

Weeks had passed and I asked her why she still took to the road,

Was she speaking to the ditch trying to lighten off her load?

 

Sit in the chair she said and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea,

All will be revealed and then perhaps you’ll see,

Remember pat she said who owns the farm across that hill,

He asked me if I’d marry him and when you were wed I said I will,

 

So that was your plan I said I was your heavy load,

Hence you sent me walking to the village along the road,

I made your father a promise as he lay on his dying bed,

I would not marry another until after you my son got wed.

18 Mar. 13

 

I was there

I was there in the house when he walked on the stairs,

His presence large and his face all aglow,

I went there because as he said he had my prayers,

I gave them to him so that he would know,

 

I went there to his house to sort things out,

As his life was coming to a hastened end,

I stood there while he would argue and shout,

His life he tried so hard to defend,

 

I listened intently to the stories he told,

I got lost in the hunt and chase of it all,

Legends of poetry as yet to unfold,

As his fate was sealed he was facing his call,

 

There was so much that he was now to sort out,

And little enough time left, his future was death,

And as he stood in his house he began to shout,

“I’ll sort this place with my last dying breath,

 

He’s gone now and I stand in his now empty house,

I can still feel his presence as I load up his life,

Each corner of the room the signs of a mouse,

His watchful eye looking over us friends and his wife,

 

As we scurry about the place up and down those stairs,

Hefting bags and boxes out into the yard,

I can hear in the distance words and prayers,

Death is final but life is at times, hard,

 

Soon the door will close for good on his old home,

And we will relegate him to memory deep in our mind,

Not everyone can like us but we are never alone,

Take a look around you see what you find,

 

As we drive away for the last time, I look back on his place,

Don’t worry he’d say it will be fine, with that smiling face,

A nod is as good as a wink to a blind man I’d reply,

Life is for living it’s not a bloody race,

 

His life over coming to an early end,

You can feel his spirit floating about this place,

In the distance now dear old friend,

Remembered, always with a smile upon my face.

17 Mar. 13

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: Racy thinking Oh we spent the day in bed did the ...

Christy O'Donnell ,Humour in Poetry.: Racy thinking
Oh we spent the day in bed did the ...: Racy thinking Oh we spent the day in bed did the other half and I, No sound passed between either lip nor ear, And though we were...

Magdalene jailers,,,

Taken from families who in some cases knew no other?

Children whom it seemed were thought to be of less use,

Or who had made some error in their life causing bother,

Shipped off by the Catholic Church for systematic abuse,

Made to work each day and no way out,

No reprieve for something that was never a crime,

Religious sisters never telling them what it was all about,

Living in bewilderment poverty and grime,

Many would profit from their incarcerated labour,

And no wage given for their daily tasks,

None for their lifetime would see any favour,

Instead of a smiling face would be a broken mask,

The Magdalene laundry had a fine reputation,

Their work was sought after by those who had money,

Society would not let these women see integration,

The horror of these places was anything but funny,

Some worked for a short time others their whole life,

Without wage or comfort as if criminal put to jail,

Too late for most to hope to someday become a wife,

Through an open gate and freedom they would never hail,

There is no justification for locking someone away,

Just because they don’t seem to fit in,

Forcing religion upon them each and every day,

Those in charge were the ones committing all the sin,

All the profit made from each day that was taken,

Bought land and prestige for this church of ours,

Young lives into servitude and futures forsaken,

To appease the religious fat cats and government powers,

But hey the currant lot in power now say they are sorry,

For anything and everything that happened to those lives,

Little word from the owners the church seems unworried,

It’s all about how much it will cost them for these could have been wives,

They provided that service while being told to kneel and pray,

How anyone can put a price on all that was lost,

And for years tell them they had nothing worthy to say,

Time given as payment is the ultimate cost.

20.02.2013

 

Car antics.

She always wanted to try it but never thought she would,

There just never seemed to be the right moment in this car,

Even though it was easy and she knew she could,

There was always a third party when they travelled near or far,

 

She knew she had some mad thoughts from time to time,

And this one had her feeling she was missing out,

If only she could do it once it would stop her trying,

Isn’t this what sharing and love was all about,

 

But he simply didn’t see the need to let her have her way,

As much as she tried to explain he didn’t want to know,

Don’t be so foolish he said a car is no place to play,

But inside her this need had begun to grow,

 

She gave him a choice with or without his consent,

She was going to do it and wouldn’t say why,

Only when she had her way would she be content,

Or he could agree and let her do it or at least try,

 

He refused point blank and said firmly no,

It was ridiculous to try it while driving a car,

Nothing she said would make him want to go,

Just so she could have her way while he drove on the tar,

 

Her choice made simple like any other,

She just wouldn’t tell him when she was in the mood,

I don’t care she said who’s in the car your sister or your mother,

Or even if we are shopping for food,

 

Then on a fine sunny morning with mother in the back seat,

She waited until he was speeding along the tar,

She reached across this was her need her treat,

She yanked the handbrake shouting stop this damn car,

 

There she said I told you I would,

As mother gathered herself up off the floor,

I did it I told you and you knew that I could,

That was the day she got her own car he drove her no more.

Racy thinking

Oh we spent the day in bed did the other half and I,

No sound passed between either lip nor ear,

And though we weren’t speaking I knew I had to try,

I lay alone upon my side and stiff with fear

 

She lay on her front and was looking all asleep,

Nice and warm underneath the eiderdown,

And as I moved a little closer I took myself a little peep,

If I reached out would she smile or would she frown,

 

I was cold and I was lonely yet I dare not make a sound,

Not a cough not a blink as she lay there,

She was warm she was cosy underneath that eiderdown,

In my mind I saw her nakedness laid bare,

 

Now the day was drawing closed and the night was on the way,

As my mind raced from where now I had to fight,

Here we were in bed with not a word to say,

And by now I was deeply troubled with my plight,

 

If she’d only give a signal or perhaps a little sign,

And I could then translate it in my head,

We could get a little closer and then what is hers may now be mine,

It wouldn’t be so cold on my side of this bed,

 

Now the night is fast upon us and I feel a little heat,

As from the far side of this bed she made a move,

My brain saw her turn over and the sight was such a treat,

And soon I thought we’d both be in the groove,

 

Then her lips they parted and she asked me for the time,

Saying has this day passed me by while I was asleep,

If this was all she has to say then I think I might be fine,

She followed with “the thing that’s in my back you sure can keep,

 

Here I was apart from her a lengthy inch or two,

And my manliness was fading quick and fast,

The whole day in this bed of ours and nothing else to do,

Foolish thinking that my thoughts would ever last,

 

Oh we’d spent the day in bed did the other half and I,

The only sound to pass from her lips to my ear,

It took all day to get close to her just so I could try,

There was no joy for my thoughts this much was clear,

 

When up she sits from her side and drops the eiderdown,

With a smile creeping slowly into place,

The lips upon my mouth went to smile instead of frown,

And we got wrapped around each other face to face.

whitehouse poetry reading.mpg punchys poems

a few i attempted recently hope ya like em

Breaking the circle

He sits by the river thinking could it get any worse,

How can he change all this anger in his life?

He knows it’s his fault and see’s it as a curse,

He is full of remorse and can’t face his wife,

 

She sits by the table wondering what she has done,

That has them both on a different page,

Marriage and love are no longer fun,

Now it’s all anger and pain and rage,

 

In the bedroom upstairs their child lays sleeping,

He jumps at the least little noise,

His father has left again with him there’s no keeping,

Accusations of deceit and telling him lies,

 

He knows in his heart that it’s wrong to lash out,

He can’t understand why he snaps,

The river is calling him “come in” with a shout,

Is life worth trying they are better of alone perhaps?

 

A bruise on her brow as she checks out her face,

The place where he landed his hand,

She longs for a memory of a much better place,

When life and love were so grand,

 

As she cleans up the mess she feels a cold shiver,

And heads up to check on her son,

His body floats aimlessly down in the river,

A new kind of pain has begun,

 

Confusion now is a part of her thinking,

As his death slips slowly on by,

Nightmares of how his mind it was sinking,

To that river he looked for his only alloy,

 

The bruise on her brow long since has healed,

As she takes up a new lease on life,

Now her son lashes out his temper revealed,

She has learned from his newly wed wife,

 

But sort him she will no love shall he kill,

As his father before him left her bereft,

She did all she could to try keep him good,

With the last ounce of breath she has left,

 

The circle now broken her son a changed man,

His anger did not for long last,

All living together and working to a plan,

Like that river bad memories long since in the past.

 

 

Who would believe it?

She has no idea what he does all day long,

Sat at home while she goes out to earn her pay,

He’s out of work and everything he does is wrong,

Whatever he tries gets lost on her each day,

 

As soon as she comes in the door she starts,

With what did you do while I toiled and slaved?

And he tries to tell her that he nearly took part,

In a job search scheme but she simply waves,

 

Her food is ready but she says it’s not hot,

And also she adds it looks just like crap,

And with that she gets up and throws the lot,

And with the plate gives him a slap,

 

No job no confidence he is feeling the pinch,

And she is so angry all the time,

She looks at him now and calls him a Grinch,

Never again will this marriage be fine,

 

Not a day goes by when she doesn’t throw something at him,

And usually she doesn’t miss,

He’s been bruised and had the odd black eye,

There must be something better then this,

 

He can’t tell anyone because of the shame,

And she’s a good foot shorter the he,

No more is this a fun little game,

He lives in pain all because of she,

 

She comes home at the end of her day,

And there is a note on the hall table,

There is nothing more left to say,

Other then he just isn’t able,

 

Alone is much better then being battered?

No fear of a key in his door,

They lost sight of the reality that matters,

He left he couldn’t take any more,

 

She searches the house for a trace,

Of where he is or might be in hiding,

No sign of him left in her place,

There is no one now that she can confide in,

 

Confidence high a new job a new life,

He is making his way in the world,

She was always sorry was his wife,

Never again into that place he’ll be hurled.

 

Doubting Thomas

Where do you go to my dearest, when you are leaving my bed?

Is your mind thinking the clearest of thoughts deep inside your head?

Was it me that you thought of then, as we made such passionate love?

I thought it was good enough when, you screamed to heaven above,

 

When I touched you, moved your hair so I could look upon face,

Did you smile at me or glare as you went and left me in this place?

Now I lay here in this bed, where we just created heat,

Doubt has crept into my head; alone I feel defeat,

 

Yet I recall I touched your thigh, you moaned and held me close,

Was that a hurry up sigh, did I not try my utmost,

Was I wrong to ask was it good, as we made love all night long,

I guess I never understood, if I was doing it right or wrong,

 

Was it a tear I saw in your eye, as you left I thought for home?

Is it me that made you cry, is this why I lay here alone?

Am I a doubting Thomas, with a mind that’s so distressed?

That light that shone upon us, did I fail or pass your test,

 

The bed has since gone cold, in the time that you’ve been gone,

I feel not young but old; to no generation do I belong,

So much time it seems has passed, as in the afterglow I lay,

Will it blossom will it last, is there something I can say,

 

Have you left and not looked back, are you gone and lost forever,

Is there something that I lack, will you return or call me never,

Is that noise I hear, coming from my stairs?

Could it be all of my fears will yet see me in tears?

 

You stand now in the doorway, looking somewhat aglow,

My doubting has had its own say, my heart should really know,

To the kitchen for a drink, was where you went just then,

Each time you leave my heart sinks, you might not return again,

 

Oh I am a doubting Thomas; I doubt everything I do,

When pressure is upon us, I always look to you,

The bed is nice and warm now, but will she leave again,

Oh I am a doubting Thomas and it really is a pain.

5-Nov-12