Category: Po-et-tree & Vurz!

Scouse Dummy

When times were tough

We took a bite

Out of our Scouse Dummy

This staple lunch

Was all we had

It was better than our mummy

It’s cheap and cheerful

Comes wrapped up nice

In paper bag and grease

Flaky pastry makes it tasty

You eat it on the streets.

Quite a small and meagre meal

Doesn’t get you fat

When mother wants to shut you up

she says, ‘Have a suck on that.’

It’s all you need to fill the space

That gnaws deep within your belly

‘Til fish and chips

Or beans on toast

In front of soapy telly.

(At this point there are two alternative endings to this poem, depending on whether you like the Sayers or Greggs Scouse Dummy and are environmentally attached or adhered to the area, or not. I pay homage to them both. Just as there are people in the same family who support different football teams, there are people in the same family who have different preferences for the same items of food, but in different eateries/snack bars. For the record, my personal preference is for Sayers).

What is this we eat, upon the hoof?

This golden rod of meaty dregs?

This Scouse Dummy is no mystery

It’s just a sausage roll from Greggs.

(And now for my personal favourite)…

What is this we eat, upon the hoof?

This golden rod of meaty layers

This Scouse Dummy is no mystery

It’s just a sausage roll from Sayers.

Poem by Auntie Winnie

My husband’s Auntie Winnie was a lovely person. She was one of the first people he introduced me to and she warmly welcomed me into her family, twenty seven years ago. She was a much beloved sister, wife, mother and grandmother. Winnie sadly passed six weeks ago. Throughout her life, she was a prolific poet and writer. This was one of her very many poems, which was discovered after her passing.

‘What is it that beholds an air

A footstep on the stair of life

A whispered thought still in my mind

Of what I’ve lost and cannot find

Still I will seek until the day

My melancholy slips away

And when that comes

And heartaches cease-

I will know at last

I’ve found my peace.’

by Winnie Stephenson

My Mind Is A Blank

My mind is a blank

I’m feeling the drain

There’s a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign

Outside of my brain

There isn’t a thought

Inside of my head

I should have stayed tucked up

Inside of my bed

The clever has gone

It’s willow the wisp

The funny and brilliant

Has burned to a crisp

My mind is a blank

There is nothing there

Just tumbleweeds and silence

And a cold vacant stare

The genius has gone

If ever it were

And now in its place

Is a cold vacant stare

The witty has left me

It’s taken a nap

The brain cells have frazzled

As if they’ve been zapped

My mind is a blank

There is nothing to boast

The grey matter fried up

And now it is toast.

Colours

I was black and I was blue

With a yellow purple hue

Bruised because of you

So thank you

I was grey and I was down

Because of you, psychotic clown

You know you broke my crown

So thank you

I am grateful for your stink

Because it made me think

I started to be pink

So thank you

You took me to the lows

I went from China Rose

To red as Drinkers Nose

So thank you

But now I’m on the rise

The colours are surprised

They’ve suddenly got wise

So thank you

I’m not as green in game

You’re the quagmire heat of blame

You’re the dirty brown of shame

So F you.

 

Toasted Crumpet

A griddle cake

By any other name

Would taste as sweet

I toast it

Both sides

Now, hot off the press

I spread the

golden

melting

ever so slightly flowing

butter

And watch it seep

Deep

Not over the edge

And not out of the bottom

But into the pores

And into the heart of comfort

That is my crumpet

 

He’s Coming Home

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

I’d not forgotten his face

Or the sound of his voice

I’d not forgotten his smile

My heart gave me no choice

I would close my eyes

And count to ten

And have the crystal clear dream

I’d wake up from again

But I’m not asleep anymore

There’s warmth from the sun

And bad times are over

This war is now done

He’s coming home

After all this time

He’s coming home

At long last, he’s mine

It might take a while

To finally feel free

But he’s coming home soon

He’s coming home to me

 

 

 

 

After Years Of Darkness

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

After years of darkness

The light is shining through

After years of darkness

The sun is now in view

We will be together

When we were so alone

We will be together

Now you are coming home

After years of darkness

It’s looking brighter now

Let’s chase away the darkness

And make up the years somehow

Now there’s tears of joy

Instead of tears of sorrow

We have a new today

We have a new tomorrow

Now it is our time

Hope is on its way

After years of darkness

You are home to stay

The Story Of The Poppy

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

The soldiers were courageous

But in battle they did yield

And John McCrea, he lost a friend

On Ypres fighting field

He wrote Flanders Fields for him

His soul he laid out bare

He wrote about the poppy fields

For every soldier there

The slender graceful poppy

Sprouted where they lay

So that we would think of them

Every Remembrance Day

They grew in their thousands

And proudly there they stand

This hardy little flower

Grows on barren land

American lady, Moira Michael

Made poppies of silk to sell

And Anna Guerin, brought them to England

And boy, did they sell well!

It was The Royal British Legion

Who sold nine million poppies on

Remembrance Day

Back in nineteen twenty one

Over one hundred thousand pounds

That first appeal did raise

Which helped the Great War veterans

In those very early days

The Legion, along with Major George

Houston’s factory line

To this day, produce nine million

poppies, every year combined.

Scotland wanted poppies too

But England’s were all gone

Lady Haig set a factory up

So Edinburgh had one

A story of a little flower

A symbol of life and not of death

Its beauty blooms to give us hope

And help us never to forget

Harvest Festival

Food comes from the land

But also from above

Nourishment, goodies

Joy and love

Birds don’t work

And flowers don’t toil

Yet the birds, they still eat

And flowers bloom in soil

A harvest of hope

For those who have none

Whose troubles and woes

Are still far from gone

Through our heart and soul

We plant our seeds

We watch them wither or grow

Through all of our deeds

Let the abundance of crops

Be proudly on show

Now is the time

To reap what we sow