Category: Ruminations

Only Minds Are Meeting

What’s the point of a shower

And smelling like a flower

And having scented power

Of a freshly washed bod?

What’s the point of a wash

When no-one gives a toss

It’s a load of bosh

When stinky flesh is quashed

Does a tree still sound

When it falls to the ground

And there’s no-one there to hear?

Well, the same surely goes

If there is no nose

To smell a rose

That might be there.

But, I’ll do it for myself

And my hygiene health

And the perfumed wealth

Of a non smelly self.

Won’t hang like a bum

Accumulating scum

Scrub it all new

And smell like morning dew.

We can mess around with mud

And wallow in the crud

We can do what we dare

‘Cos there’s no-one there to care

(As long as we wash our hands at the end of it)

Oh, but in these lazy days

Of Covid crazy haze

If these four walls could talk

They would surely squawk

But hey, I can go for a walk

ONCE A DAY!

Still, I think I’ll just Twitter

Forget about being fitter

I’d much rather be eating

‘Cos sanity is fleeting

And only minds are meeting

Just now.

.

Ginger and The Lemon Pip

Today, I noticed a ginger spider sitting on my kitchen worktop hugging a lemon pip. I had squeezed lemons the night before and one pip must have popped out and I hadn’t noticed it. The worktop colour is very similar to the pip colour. Anyway, I blew on Ginger to see if Ginger was alive. Usually when you breathe on insects or spiders, they run for the hills, or dance in the breeze (of your breath). Ginger didn’t move. Is Ginger dead, I thought, or is Ginger just playing dead? I blew on Ginger again and once more for good luck. Nothing. Ginger didn’t move, neither did the pip. Are you calling my bluff? Maybe if I go away and come back again, you might not be there. I decided I would give Ginger some space. Like when a tree falls in a forest and nobody is there, would Ginger leave while no-one was there to experience Ginger’s leaving? So, I went away for a decent amount of time, about fifteen minutes, and when I returned, Lo and Behold, Ginger was indeed gone and so was the pip! Ginger took the pip and fooled me good and proper, called my bluff. Of course, it could have gone two ways for Ginger. She/he could have been bludgeoned to death while he/she played dead, or was carelessly and fatally scooped into the sink, or into a dustbin. Ginger could have met with several horrible deaths, but instead, trusted fate, took a chance, took a risk and played dead, and it paid off. A lesson to us I think. And Ginger and Lemon do go together.

Man or Mouse

Are you a man or a mouse

Is an outdated phrase

Quite sexist when you think

Sounds strange these days

We’re wise enough to know

We have to be brave

Can’t hide away

Or go live in a cave

Need to get away from the dark

Walk away from the pain

Embrace the future

The past has no gain

Courage is a friend

It has invested in you

Waits behind the cloud

Waits for your cue

After courage comes happiness

Elusive though it seems

Don’t give up on life

Don’t give up on your dreams

Life is for the taking

It’s yours and it’s mine

Reach out – be brave

Be strong this time

Walk down the long road

Move slowly if you must

At the end of it you’ll find

Love and light and trust

If things are bad

And you’re feeling really low

Then upwards my friend

Is the only way to go

So, no more darting about

With frustration and fear

No more twitching whiskers

No more pink little ears

Go into the light

Get out of the house

Go after your dreams

Stop being a mouse.

100 Followers

Just discovered I now have a hundred followers. It’s taken me a while to get here, slow and steady I always say, oh yes. Thank you followers, likers and readers, I really do appreciate the support. You are very kind and generous and beautiful. I have much to learn and a long way to go, in this warm, friendly and talented community. I’m looking forward to this journey with you. Thank you again.

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.

Ode To Adam Fresco

He wouldn’t let us eat him, or drink him during break

He never let us beat him, or bake him in a cake

But never once did we wish to cut off his legs

Or impale him on a stick

We wouldn’t dream of killing him, for fear of making him sick

He taught us how to act, had passion for plays

Knew all about the theatre, made us crave the stage

I think he understood us, like great teachers only could

And I think we understood him, like only mothers could

Now Adam’s in New Zealand, doing all of the same things

Encouraging students writing

And inspiring all their dreams.

White!

(I wrote this at age 27, when I discovered my hair was going grey, or more to the point, white).

Help! Isn’t there a pill I can take, a book I can read, a cream I can put on? No-one warned me about this, no-one told me how it would make me feel, the colour so bright, so dazzling white, like a beacon stretching for miles in the night. Why didn’t anyone tell me, that it would be resistant to dye, resistant to just about anything? This new hair colour has super strength.

It’s impervious

Impenetrable

Conspicious

I’m getting old. What do I do, keeping dying my hair, with super dye, every month, so that the little bastards can’t get through? Have to keep chasing the follicle from now on. Did I worry so much? I’ve got white hair, pigment is AWOL, lost, gone on strike. Help!

Of course, I don’t feel the same now, twenty years later. I’m matured , so it hardly matters. To be honest, I don’t really care now but I cared then. I can always dye it blue…or green or tawny brown but the main thing is, I’ve realised that grey hair and white hair look gorgeous too. I know that now. I’ve seen women who wear it extremely well, but more than that, they are confident in their own skin. It feels good/relieving to look back on things that upset me when I was younger, understand why, and realise that they don’t upset me anymore.

Snowflake

I know a snowflake, pitter patter snow

Gets easily offended, by everyone I know

Sensitive as flowers, in the blazing sun

Trampled underneath, never having fun.

I know a snowflake, will take you to the brink

Delicate like crystal, not as special as they think

Selfish, selfish, selfish, anything but wise

Feels entitled to a lot of praise, and don’t dare you criticize

Be the ‘best version’ of yourself, Is the snowflake’s cry

Never ever people please and don’t eat humble pie

Can’t see the wood for the trees, so taken up with woes

You are wrong and they are right, I think that’s how it goes

Politically correct, they’ll do it just to spite

And if you have a different view, they’ll scream and stomp and bite

Two meanings to the word, like the ‘special’ of old

Which can mean the opposite, of what we are told

If someone was called ‘special’, back in older days,

It could mean different things, it could go different ways.

We are all unique, and burn with different flames

Cut from the same cloth, but our clothes are not the same

But by labelling people, as we go,

It can sometimes help to make it so

I know a snowflake, now who could it be?

What did you just say, the snowflake’s me?

I’m offended!

Chameleon

The skin is old, Old as the hills

Older than time, Won’t let go

But no face lifts, No surgery

No peeling it off physically

Though… it’s kind of like that.

Old skin, saturated with old things

Underserved guilt

Toxic shame

Embedded in the cells

Sealing in the grey

But now it’s time to slough the leperous skin

That no-one seems to see but me.

Old skin is the old ways

Old habits, old attitudes

Brought up with the negative

Programmed to live in the shadows

Time to shed old skin

And in its place

A brand new coat of flesh

Snuggled, cosy, comfy, clean

Like after a hot bath

The chameleon slips from the jacket

Hurt skin needs to go

And needs the complexion of her baby self.

She can have the skin of a new born and start again

Feeling untainted, undamaged, pure, good

But the old skin was comfortable in a sinister kind of way.

Familiar

Sunscreen can’t stop the sun attacking this old skin

Can’t heal the network of sores

That built up over the years

What-iffing won’t make it better

There’s no bandage for this

No ointment, no cream

No miracle cure

Except to be like a chameleon

Let the skin fall away

Unbutton the pain

And start to live.

Possibility

The possibility of anything

Is never black or white

Many colours in the middle

Not just dark or light

The feasibility of something

That is the key

Mathematically, is it viable

How attainable will it be?

Some of us will go searching

In the dark, for years, we’ll grope

But what’s the probability

What’s the chance of hope?

Where’s the practicality

Of our most treasured goal

There is untold power

In the desire of our soul

You have to take part

Scientifically, that’s the case

Our odds do go up

When we take part in the race

Take the opportunity

When it comes near

Strengthen capability

Step up a gear

Fate and destiny

Will always play a part

If you’re spiritually minded

You’ll have a good head start

It’s really quite conceivable

Just between me and you

That, in eventuality

Your dreams can come true