The Boy who hated Football
They thought he was strange
But they were the ones in the rain
And it was he who was dry
Behind his window pane
He’d just shake his head
Scrunch his face when they’d call
For he was the boy who hated football
“Come on Charley, we’re short on our team”
But Charley just shrugged as if in a dream
So despite they being down and short of a man
Charley headed for town, for the day, on the tram.
He just didn’t get the fuss with the chase
And kicking a ball at speed round the place
“Why cant they like books and fishing and kites?
Or reading a comic in bed with a light?
And why put their jumpers on the wet grass?
I’d rather watch worms in my magnifying glass.
And then there’s the shouting, the fighting, trouble and toil
I’d rather find spiders on the double in soil.
Then when they tackle, they grimace and harden, I’d rather the fun
I have in the garden.
“Oh Come on Charley, don’t let us down.”
But Charley wouldn’t listen but walk by and frown
Then on a Sunday and it warm and hazy, they started to laugh
They thought he was crazy.
For when they were picking the names for the team
Charley announced he was off to the museum.
He was not being awkward, it was ‘cos he could.
He’d rather see paintings than roll round in the mud.
After a while, they neglected to call, and it was a given
About Charley and ball.
But he didn’t care, he stuck to his guns
He was happy he was having more fun.
But a year went by and Charley turned eleven, and a new girl moved in
An angel from heaven.
Well that’s what he thought and she could sing like a lark
But really she lived in the house by the park.
All Summer they spent catching fish on their hooks, watching for rainbows
And reading great books.
Charley was in love all soft like a kitten,
You could say it quite sure, Charley was smitten.
But the girl who he loved, one could say quite truly
Was a secretive type, (she was called Julie)
For she loved to fish, read and cahort
But she also was fit and was mad into sport.
“Charley,” she said, “Would you do anything for me?”
He said that he would as she sat on his knee.
“Well it’s just that I like to play ball with the boys
The same as I like to play with you and your toys.
Well it’s just that they’re short and need two more to play”
Charley was startled not sure what to say.
“Would you please do it? This one time for me?”
Charley stood up, Julie jumped from his knee.
She looked at his face, troubled, alone
As he walked away, sad and forlorn.
“Where are you going??”
She cried out in fear
“I’ll be back in a minute...I’m going home for my gear.”
And that was the story of Charley + co
Who now smacks the ball with his big shiny toe
The moral if there is one of Julie and all
Is that she changed Charley to the boy who loves ball.
A Christmas Visit
My father came to visit me and mine eyes were filled with tears
It wasn’t pain at seeing him but he was dead just a year
And he told me about Jesus and God’s great holy plan
Then he paused in sadness there, as he spoke of my fellow man
He said we’d need to change and love each one as ourselves
To hide away our differences high upon the shelves
And now that it was Christmas-tide to hold our loved ones near
And he kissed me gently on my brow and I held that kiss so dear
And I asked him how he was but no questions were answered so
Just a constant smiling contentment told me all I had to know
And like a child on Christmas eve he placed my blanket tight
And to remember what he said and then
He said Good night.
And when the morning came
I woke then with a smile.
He had left me all those months ago
But it only seemed a while.
Yet his message was still clear and it sent me on my way
I rose and laughed and smiled and gave thanks
To Christmas Day.
Unfinished Business
Ive got some unfinished business that I need to say to you
Some unfinished detail that I have to get through
But times so quick and life’s so flash so much to do and get to that
I’ve some unfinished business that I need to say to you.
I’ve some sobering thoughts that I need to bring to light
I’ve some unaccounted issues that I have to just put right
I have a lot of loaded questions if I can find the time
It’s frantic now my mind’s a mess it’s hard to put in rhyme.
I’ve got some unfinished business that we both must discuss
It must be straight it must be true no need to cause a fuss
Look me in the eye and tell me we have both been straight
Tell me that you are happy we haven’t left it late.
There is some unfinished business and now it just feels right
I’m sick of all this hiding and I have seen the light
Pull away the veil, clear away the mist, tell the truth
As you would if you and I were pissed.
It’s just some unfinished business and now it is our time
I hear the pips on the phone
Pip pip....are you on the line?
Ive got some unfinished business that I need to say to you
Some unfinished detail that I have to get through
But times so quick and life’s so flash so much to do and get to that
I’ve some unfinished business that I need to say to you.
I’ve some sobering thoughts that I need to bring to light
I’ve some unaccounted issues that I have to just put right
I have a lot of loaded questions if I can find the time
It’s frantic now my mind’s a mess it’s hard to put in rhyme.
I’ve got some unfinished business that we both must discuss
It must be straight it must be true no need to cause a fuss
Look me in the eye and tell me we have both been straight
Tell me that you are happy we haven’t left it late.
There is some unfinished business and now it just feels right
I’m sick of all this hiding and I have seen the light
Pull away the veil, clear away the mist, tell the truth
As you would if you and I were pissed.
It’s just some unfinished business and now it is our time
I hear the pips on the phone
Pip pip....are you on the line?
Thieves and Brigands
Thieves and Brigands
Liars and fiends
In a swell of corruption
Gathered near me
They sat on a hill
Conniving and spinning
Each one purveying
If the other was winning
It was a Tuesday in Summer
And all had a doubt
If the ne’er do well beside them
Had any clout
“Now listen here,” said a brigand
Tapping his cane for attention,
His audience abusing with words
I can’t mention.
“It’s time for us all to devise a plan,
To forever deceive our fellow man.”
The thieves and fiends and all the street urchins
Sat attentive and eager just like honoured church men.
They listened with interest as to how this would work
And revive the failings of this illicit church.
“I will take us all out through the bank
And when we are rich
‘twill be I you will thank.
For hidden away in the depths of their vault
Is a document showing each of our faults!”
The liars all said they would come along for the spin
But three of them left, their numbers wore thin.
The fiends felt the brigands idea was no winner
Five of them left to steal food for their dinner.
Soon all that was left was the brigand alone
Soon to leave, soon to go home.
For there was no great paper
Locked away in the bank
And he was no person of great power or rank
And he laughed as he saw them
Depart one by one.
For his cunning plan had brought so much fun.
And while they all sat hearing his patter,
Nobody saw the thief known as
“the ratter!”
He weedled and writhed all through the crowd
As his master and leader spoke out aloud.
And soon he joined him,
Their takings were counted. And they eyed each other
For each one doubted.
“Farewell my friend,” said the brigand when done
And he ambled away in the warm evening sun.
But he stopped aghast and put his hand to his coat.
He felt for his watch but there was nothing of note!
He looked at the thief run the hill so steep
And reminded himself of the friends he should keep.
For the company of thieves, fiends and brigands
Would always result in a calamitous sad end..
For My Grandfather
“Well what do you think?” my father asked
Placing the photo in my hand
And I gazed at the face
The nose and the eyes
My truth within there
No cover for lies
Yes the face
That could have been mine
But was worn by the man from a different time
And I looked again to a younger man
And we looked at each other
Two lifetimes apart
Yet bonded together
By my father’s heart.
The irony now me being older than he
Yet he lived all those years
That were well before me
And I envied that face
Calm in his prime
That face worn by the man from a different time.
And then came the closure passed through the years`
An inextricable link and I felt his tears
I look at that photo; I’m lost in a trance
I hear his laughter.
I dance his dance.
My life is his life
The link uncanny/divine
And I smile at the man from a different time
November 2012
Coming Home from School
I saw a boy today who was nine maybe ten
that was me, that was me
I looked at him and then looked again
that was me, that was me
He wore a woolly hat
and held his hands just like that
that was me, that was me
And he laughed at some memory
as he walked home alone
Football? TV? - he was going home
that was me, that was me
He sidled up the road
his arms forming the wings of a plane
that was me.
But it was the smile - Ah the smile!
to no one else but himself
that was me, that was me!
October 2012
The Boy and the Moon
I knew a boy who tried to fly to the moon
‘Bye Mam’, he said
‘I’ll be home soon
I’ll show them all, I’ll be a real winner’
‘That’s nice love; will you be home for dinner?’
He picked up his pack and his resolve it did harden
He made his way to his rocket…
…it was parked in the garden.
‘I’ll show her,’ he said with a frown
Tiring now he left his pack down.
‘I’ll be on T.V. and show them how tough
My trip to the moon was…
…I’ll bring them back stuff.
I’ll fill my pack full of sand
And men who are green!
I’ll bring them back rocks
To prove I have been!’
So he looked at the transport that would aid on his trip
A few boxes he got from his shed and a skip
A tube made the centre it was shaped like a tunnel
The point on the top – an old water funnel
He climbed on board and got into place
He had an old football helmet that covered his face
He wore his dad’s garden gloves, they were covered in mould
They were warmer than his…
…they’d help with the cold.
He sat there and waited in this ship of cardboard and tin
He was waiting and waiting for the sun to go in.
His mother she watched from the window below
She observed how his mission was going terribly slow.
So she went to the cupboard and started to bake
‘In times of crisis, we all love some cake’
Back in the garden, things had gone slow
Our hero had not thought how to make this thing go
And he looked at his target…
…the great orb in the sky
Wishing he knew how rockets do fly.
Then at Nine O’ Clock, he abandoned his mission
He made his way back to his mam in the kitchen
He knew his idea was one big mistake
And he thought of it all with some milk and some cake
Well that was the tale of the boy and the moon
Who left his house one bright afternoon
The moral? The lesson? Not journey’s end
But when you need love and support
Your mam’s your best friend.
August 2012
The Lovers
We passed them on the road leading to the beach
She waved a country wave, her hand diverting
our eyes from the hand she held self consciously at his waist.
Her nimble fingers stretching his waistband
He ran in to the side of the road to avoid our car
His chivalry deserting him.
As we unpacked buckets and spades and flasks of tea
they made their way to the rocks
She lay there facing the sun as he took position over her
An athlete in press up position.
She smiled
Her rounded breasts heaving to her excited breathing.
Later they passed us on the strand
bare feet and trousers rolled to the shins.
She smiled.
Confident now in her love.
He kept his head down.
The children laughing broke my thoughts
And I stopped remembering...
MAY 2012
The Last Away
The Last Away or so I thought
believing I was strong
Just another twisted step
on the right side of wrong
Like a spider with his web
or a singers perfect song
all of this is oh so good
but on the right side of wrong
As a runner grasps the gold
for a mile race, three feet long
cheating and conceiting
on the right side of wrong
And those of you who know me
also know the fool
those of you who dont
could never know my rules
And those of you who knew me
didnt know at all
what I think of litter or that babysitter
that's where friendships fall.
I'm back on track n' fighting back
who knows when I'll be gone?
fightin' thrivin' always reviving
surviving on the right side of wrong.
March 2012
Cheap Wine
The Summer Breeze didn’t trouble
It soothed ‘neath the sky
And we slept on sun warmed
grass on a hill way up high
And all we had was the
day the owner of our time
Living just as lovers do
Sippin’ on cheap wine
The evening brought a
beauty a carousel of red
And speckled clouds bid good
night as they marched along
like elephants
there above our heads
I smiled silently in your
mirror You reciprocated
yet stared ahead
Unwilling to falter
Focussed
Determined not to pass the test
Mans love not as important
now as the diamonds at your breast.
And all we had was the
evening the holder of our time
Living just as lovers do
Sippin’ on cheap wine
Like the changing
seasons as summer turns to fall
Our lives are ever changing
Who are we at all?
Lovers become strangers
A touch feels like a
burn the clarity of a straight
road now twists with many turns
and all the heartbreak came to life
shaken to the core
An army of tears fell like
rain and you were here no
more and now all I have is the
day the master of my time
Living just as the broken
do And sippin’ on cheap wine.
January 2012
The Step
There's a barrier that cant be broken
Practiced words that cant be spoken
A wasted chance, a stolen glance
replaced by pride - all just token
A wall not climbed in fear of falling
a bear left sleeping to save a mauling
A child run riot to save a scolding
a horse gate shut to save the bolting
And a lovers heart not yet broken
'tis the chance in the waiting - the poker card
the one worth playing
to take the risk and dance the dance
to live and love and forgive perchance.
October 2011
Morning
Hens Layin' Donkeys brayin'
thank God that the mornings come
Cars beepin', city sleepin'
thank God that the mornin's come
Babys cryin' mothers fryin'
thank God that the mornings come
City wakin', trains shakin'
Starting now that the night is done
Cows mooin' Grocers shooin' dogs away
now deliveries are done
Cyclists ridin' children hidin'
"Dont want to go to school Mom"
Sun breakin' city shakin'
Not yet six and the sun has come
lovers kissed, already missed
A few hours til we have more fun
School runs, fresh buns
Thank God for the mornings come
Prayers recited, Old mens fires lighted
Thank God for another one
Sun glowin' moon still showin'
One relay that will always run
Clocks tickin', computers flickin'
thank God that the mornings come...
Thank God that the mornings come.
September 2011
The Department of Men who have Beards.
I know some men who work for a firm,
When I tell you of them I know you will squirm
They work high in a building
Where they report
The floor they work on? I think it’s the fourth.
These men I know are so well revered
They work for the department of men who have beards.
Each one bedecked in the finest of suits
Impeccably dressed, wildly hirsute
From Monday to Friday they will gather as one
And reflect on their business and what needs to be done.
Some say they are brigands and men to be feared
Those in the department of men who have beards
Others will say they are men of good stealth
Who meet on a Tuesday to encourage their wealth.
When they sit and ponder and wonder and think
Before recessing for lunch and a drink.
And when they’re refreshed they are wonderfully geared
For an afternoon, in the department of men who have beards
A beard is an enigma for those who don’t know
A cunning disguise, a façade one can grow
A veil of sorts to preen and to stroke
To conceal ones emotions
On ones face, like a cloak
And as these mystical men fratern with each other
They are equally untrue yet loyal as a brother
For often they’ve fought, laughed, loved and leered
Those in the department of men who have beards
My mother instructed don’t trust men with bow ties
Or men with no wife or men with glass eyes.
But her ultimate warning was for men who were weird
Those are the very same men who wear beards.
And in the department there is malice and fear
As they reflect on a motion while stroking their beards
They will raise their head high; turn their lips down and in
And run a fore finger up their neck to their chin
Or to reflect on a point or a deal to be done
They will glance their bridge finger across their lips to their thumb.
And when they are nervous they will twirl on a strand
Of hair from their cheeks, deftly by hand.
There is many a burden these men have to mount
The explaining of expenses to the men in accounts
But their greatest dilemma and hottest of clashes
Come from the bureau of men with moustaches
And so their day goes until dusk slowly calls
And they leave behind them those secretive walls
Of daring and planning and losing and fear
In that mystical department of men who have beards.
I know some men who work for a firm,
When I tell you of them I know you will squirm
They work high in a building
Where they report
The floor they work on? I think it’s the fourth.
These men I know are so well revered
They work for the department of men who have beards.
Each one bedecked in the finest of suits
Impeccably dressed, wildly hirsute
From Monday to Friday they will gather as one
And reflect on their business and what needs to be done.
Some say they are brigands and men to be feared
Those in the department of men who have beards
Others will say they are men of good stealth
Who meet on a Tuesday to encourage their wealth.
When they sit and ponder and wonder and think
Before recessing for lunch and a drink.
And when they’re refreshed they are wonderfully geared
For an afternoon, in the department of men who have beards
A beard is an enigma for those who don’t know
A cunning disguise, a façade one can grow
A veil of sorts to preen and to stroke
To conceal ones emotions
On ones face, like a cloak
And as these mystical men fratern with each other
They are equally untrue yet loyal as a brother
For often they’ve fought, laughed, loved and leered
Those in the department of men who have beards
My mother instructed don’t trust men with bow ties
Or men with no wife or men with glass eyes.
But her ultimate warning was for men who were weird
Those are the very same men who wear beards.
And in the department there is malice and fear
As they reflect on a motion while stroking their beards
They will raise their head high; turn their lips down and in
And run a fore finger up their neck to their chin
Or to reflect on a point or a deal to be done
They will glance their bridge finger across their lips to their thumb.
And when they are nervous they will twirl on a strand
Of hair from their cheeks, deftly by hand.
There is many a burden these men have to mount
The explaining of expenses to the men in accounts
But their greatest dilemma and hottest of clashes
Come from the bureau of men with moustaches
And so their day goes until dusk slowly calls
And they leave behind them those secretive walls
Of daring and planning and losing and fear
In that mystical department of men who have beards.