WORDS by Joe Lyons

WORDS by Joe Lyons

 Words once wrote did thoughts provoke
They chase around the brain
Flitting here, hovering there, never to be the same
Alighting on paper to leave an entry there
Like a butterfly in the garden hovering without care
Each thought grows ever stronger vivid colours mark the senses
Nothing bad could ever hide there, with innocent pretences
Always changing, always the same
Information is used by any name
Sights, sounds, smells and tastes
Lest we forget them in our haste
Light and dark colours, govern each day
Controlling, calming, come what may
Feelings, memories, the paper takes till full
Whatever you believe thoughts can never be dull
From the pen streams words using vowels and verbs
In truth, to tell a tale no matter how absurd

The Clear Out by Chris South

The Clear Out by Chris South

Where does it all come from?
Boxes and boxes of stuff,
Old papers and files and schoolbooks
Threadbare clothes all covered in fluff.
Where does it all come from?
How I wished I only knew
Most of it isn’t mine anyway
So it must all belong to you!
Where is it all coming from?
When will it ever stop?
We’ve got so much junk to get rid of
Perhaps we should open a shop.
Where has this lot come from?
No! I wouldn’t open that box
Well you can’t say I didn’t warn you
Yes I know it’s full of odd socks
What d’you mean they’re a little bit cheesy
I used to play rugby in those
Well I thought that I might find the others some day
Look! Please take that peg off your nose.
Where does it all come from?
Why on earth do you want to keep that?
I know for a fact you wont use it
No don’t throw away my old hat!
It’s got sentimental value
The scarf and the gloves have too.
You can’t possibly be serious
About keeping that old canoe?
What d’you mean it might come in handy
It’s got a big hole in the bow
And why are we keeping that hideous painting
Those bags of old shoes and the pantomime cow?
Where does it all come from?
What on earth is that under the bed?
How long d’you think it’s been there?
Well I’m almost certain it’s dead.
I haven’t a clue where it came from
I’m not sure if that’s fur or mould
Looks like it was some sort of sandwich
Must be at least 2 or 3 years old.
 Where does it all come from?
I really couldn’t say
I don’t recall seeing those before
Did you used to do ballet?
Now don’t look at me in that tone of voice!
That tutu would never fit
What d’you mean pink is my colour?
No you wont let it out a bit.
Where does it all come from?
I haven’t got a clue
D’you think that were adhesive
To everything: Like glue?
Where does it all come from?
I hope that that’s the lot
We must have gone through it all by now
But then again, maybe not
Where does it all come from?
I think we deserve a rest
We’ve cleared out the loft and the spare room
The wardrobes and your antique chest
Where does it all come from?
Let’s have a nice cup of tea
Then we can start on the garage
Oh sod it! What’s on TV?

 

Empty Page! by Chris South

Empty Page! by Chris South

 Empty page!
4am and yet
Another empty page
Waiting for these words
Here they come once again
Contemplating meanings
They mutter and stutter
Flutter around like birds inside my head
Searching for a perch on which to hide
Somewhere they cannot be read
So here they come
These thoughts
Which should by now be dreams
Some with faces
Some with names
Others bursting at the seams
In desperation to be heard
Those feelings locked away inside
That seldom speak a word
Now vocalise their pain
Rise up to the surface
And then submerge again
Sleep is now an option
Rather than necessity
Perhaps I’ll listen longer
Hear what I would say to me
Where will this all end?
How long shall I spend tonight
What more can I write
To say what has not thus been said?
What else can be written
That cannot yet be read
Within this book?
Take a look
Back through these pages of my life!
Each one tells a story
Some of glory some of strife
Hopes and dreams and fantasy
All laid out in rhyme to see
Fear, pain, frustration, rage
And then?
Another
Empty page!

Mundane by Joe Lyons

Mundane

by Joe Lyons

 Absorbing like blotting paper soaking up the last drop
Only when it’s sodden
does it find time to stop
Just like a dripping tap
going splish splash all night through
It only takes a washer if you know what to do
Of all the mundane chores
that life brings us today
It’s the gnawing ones
the boring ones
you wish would go away
Cartoon showing frustrated man trying to fix a leaky faucet

Joe Lyons

TO THE WORLD A KING by Pete Brammer

TO THE WORLD A KING

In a run down shack in Tupelo,
A baby boy was given life,
A very lucky surviving twin,
To Vernon Presley and his wife.
 
His destiny, to change the world,
A ‘King’ to his generation,
Good looks, good voice, charisma,
To the world, a great sensation.
 
His songs and music touched our hearts,
With a talent rich and rare,
After what our parents listened to,
He was, a breath of fresh air.
 
The apple of his mother’s eye,
Their bond as strong as glue,
Love for each other never waned,
With a belief in God so true.
 
Religion played an important roll,
Providing a good foundation,
Singing together gospel songs,
About God and his creations.
 
We saw him on the silver screen,
To be honest, they weren’t that bad,
‘Love Me Tender’, ‘Blue Hawaii’,
‘Fun in Acapulco’, ‘Kid Galahad’.
 https://i1.wp.com/img0.ndsstatic.com/wallpapers/12476a39366da06f65d904c477db8ff6_large.jpeg
‘Harem Holiday’, ‘King Creole’
In one he was quick on the draw,
A film entitled ‘Flaming Star’,
‘Roustabout’ and many more.
 
Gyrating hips left some aghast,
Outwardly showing disgust,
“A bad influence to our kids,
Inviting sex and lust”.
 
Called up for National Service,
He took it in his stride,
Swearing his oath of allegiance,
And doing it with pride.
 
How smart he looked in uniform,
But Colonel Parker had a plan,
Cashing in with ‘GI Blues’,
All thanks to Uncle Sam.
 
Based abroad in Germany,
Not born to be a killer,
Whilst out there he fell in love,
With a 14 year old Priscilla.
 
After returning to the USA,
He found it hard to be apart,
Missing her it must be said,
He didn’t have a ‘Wooden Heart’.
 
Although she was only 14 years,
Whether it be right or wrong,
In years to come he got his wish,
Singing the ‘Wedding Song’.
 
Priscilla gave birth to a baby girl,
No prouder could they be,
Proud grandparents attended her christening,
Where they named her Lisa Marie.
 
Sadly their marriage did not last,
Only he and Priscilla know why,
Had Elvis been the one to blame?
Did he sing ‘A Fool Such as I’?
 
We never saw him over here,
A shame I must admit,
The nearest that he ever came,
Was stopping off at Prestwick.
 
Millions cried when Elvis died,
No one close to hear him moan,
Laying on the bathroom floor,
Of his beloved Graceland home.
 
We will always play our Elvis songs,
Until the day we die,
‘Jailhouse Rock’ and ‘Hound Dog’,
And ‘Old Shep’ that made us cry.
 
Telegrams came flooding in,
From loved ones and his fans,
Out pouring of true sympathy,
For their friend now in Gods hands.

The New Car: Toys and all by Michael Healy

The New Car: Toys and all.

I have a sort of passion for four wheels and an engine.
Driving along a quiet road is really relaxation.
Though my car was very nice,
jag old
 I’ve changed it for a new one
Similar it is to the one I had, but lighter in colour; than before.
For winter it has seats that warm you, and in summer they can cool, Jag new
These seats can even give a massage to the muscles if they are sore.
For those in the back there are two televisions; which the grandchildren both adore.
There is also a TV in the front, if you are stuck in a jam,
But used for navigation, it can tell me where I am.
Driving along is all automatic, with 8 gears in the box,
And the cruise control keeps you from the car in front, even if it stops
These excess gadgets, I had not sought,
But as I think a little more, it is probably why I bought!
It is all a little exaggerated, but it still gets me from A to B
But I like my cars for more than that, as I am sure you can see.
                                                                                                                    Michael Healy