The Past by Kevin Murphy

Kevin’s response to an earlier trigger ‘The Past’.

The Past by Kevin Murphy

Inspired by Auld Lang Syne

When I was engrossed in genealogy, my wife asked why I was so interested in dead people.I asked why we read books – they are mostly about dead people – even fictitious people, but almost always, except for science fiction, they are, as Stephen King says, based on true character traits.

I did add at the time that it was a was fair comment, so I must look up some old living friends.

So I looked up some old girlfriends.

Truthfully, looking into the past brings up a sense of regret, but much as Piaf’s popular song obviously touches on people’s empathy, I think David Ford more accurately captures on my own sentiment – “I am ashamed. I am ashamed, but I don’t regret anything.”

This is part of having to be careful what I wish for, and therefore be thankful for what we did get or do have instead. All those girls I longed for and either never gained or lost, yet in the end, I did really end up with the best. I am ashamed of some of the stuff I got up, and of hurt I caused, I take it that this is inevitable in love which is as just as war – a to and fro that arrives at a peace, and hopefully a just one.

Sorry, however, I am not going to tell you anything I am ashamed of.

But should I forget old aquaintants simply because they are in the past? My pastime is past times, I read and I write. Doing this helps me to make sense of our world.

I have a friend – he may no longer be a friend – who said of old friends, including wives and girlfriends, ‘I move on’.

I do not.

Of course I do move on, but my old friends, these I have loved, do remain in my heart and thoughts.

(Shame not regret by David Ford)   (Sorry not a brilliantly recorded version, though David Ford himself is excellent.)
Advertisements

What’s in a name by Micheal Healy

Michael’s response to the trigger ‘What’s in a name’ (with or without a ? – think about it.)

WHAT’S IN A NAME

‘What’s in a name?’, we have been asked.  And answers came their aplenty.

Your name may be seen as your address, your body being the parcel which it identifies.

Names are not unique, so John Brown might live in the English Midlands.

Similarly named, he could be in Philadelphia, Australia, New York or France.

Most likely¸ they may never meet and never know of each other’s existence,

 

Sometimes parents do not think things through when allocating names.

So the little bright boy with the surname Hall really does not want to be called Albert.

The Irish family O’teen, might  not want a son named Nick.

And even worse would be to call young Master Mann, Andy.

Or little Miss Tree, Cherry

 

 

Those of us with common names can only be but pleased.

Whatever name it is, given a chance to distort it to a nickname,

Then so called friends will do that

Those of us with unusual surnames have no choice.  Thus:

 

Jensen Button, Bill Gates, Stirling Moss, etc. 

Because of their fame, I doubt it has been detrimental to these.

On the other hand if your name is famous, it can open doors,

And gain access to places for you.  For example; ‘Your Majesty’………

WILL THEY HEAR YOU CALLING by Barrie Purnell

For the Trigger ‘Call’.

WILL THEY HEAR YOU CALLING

In the center of the city

In amongst the rushing people

No one has the time for talking

No one sees although they’re looking

They don’t see the Georgian buildings

Or the stained glass in the windows

These are just objects on their journey

To be glanced at and forgotten

Like the beggar in the doorway

No one cares that he is hungry

Or that he is cold and lonely

They are hurrying home to dinner

Thinking of what’s on the table

They can smell it taste the wine

They can’t stop don’t have the time

Look at all the vacant faces

Eyes cast down to mobile phones

Looking at unwanted e-mails

Posting tweets and Facebook photos

Texting friends of the minutia

Of their tiresome dreary lives

But there are some who catch your eye

A young man in a grey serge suit

Laptop clutched so tightly to him

A trendy man in washed blue jeans

Contemplating his fading youth

An Arab girl in brown Hijab

Shutting out the evil city

An embroidered Chinese lady

A blond with full Rossetti lips

Girls in forties vintage clothing

Found on Cancer Campaign Counters

You will never get to know them

Who they are or where they live

Your lives just running parallel

For that moment of your journey

Then in an instant they are gone

Each one going their separate ways

Then once again you are alone

Alone with all of your ambition

Which took you to the top position

Fruits of your private tuition

At the top but isolated

Lonely though the crowds surround you

Is this the way to spend your life

Love cast aside for your career

Befriending those you don’t respect

With weasel words you will regret

Whilst friends are lost through choices made

Links broken by benign neglect

All you faceless city people

In your quest for fame and fortune

Beware life passes by so fast

When you reach your destination

You may find its all illusion

And all those business life decisions

That gave you all those sleepless nights

You’ll find were not real life at all

No not real life but just a game

And to win you sacrificed

The love of family and friends

In pursuit of financial gain

Now if in your despair you call

For help from those who were your friends

You may find they have no time

For someone they knew way back when

Do not listen to those siren sounds

That tempt you to the city lights

Like moths you’re likely to get burned

And fall unnoticed to the ground

Beware you may have just become

That beggar freezing on the street

With everybody passing by

Too busy with their self-deceit

To hear you calling to be saved

You’re just another lonely voice

One of thousands who are seeking

Reassurance and forgiveness

From those who they have wronged before

Just ask yourself from where you stand

Can you still see where your friends are

And do you think that if you need them

Anyone will hear you calling

AIR’S A FUNNY THING by Barrie Purnell

Barrie’s piece on the ‘Air’ trigger.

AIR’S A FUNNY THING

Air’s a very funny thing

You can’t tell if it’s fat or thin

You cannot grasp it in your hand

It’s very hard to understand

It can be hot it can be cold

You don’t know if it’s young or old

If you’re cold it makes you colder still

A phenomenon they call wind chill

If you’re hot a cool breeze relief will bring

Yes air’s a very funny thing

 

Air’s got no back it’s got no front

You don’t know if it’s sharp or blunt

It’s colourless yet the sky is blue

It’s odourless when it is new

We need to breathe it to survive

It’s oxygen keeps us alive

You need air to speak and laugh and sing

Yes air’s a very funny thing

 

There’s no air at all in outer space

So for us it is a hostile place

There’s very little in the sea

Well not enough for you and me

Air causes parachutes to float

And blows along the sailing boat

It holds the glider up in flight

It’s full of owls and bats at night

I’m an engineer haven’t figured yet

How if air sucks up a jumbo jet

Then why doesn’t it suck up everything

Yes air’s a very funny thing

 

We call it wind when it’s moving

If it’s slow a breeze but it’s confusing

If it’s fast a gale but I can’t explain

Why if it goes round it’s a hurricane

All the air we breathe you’ll understand

Has been used before it’s second hand

Air does not discriminate

You breathe the same air as your mate

The same air as the Queen and King

Yes air’s a very funny thing

Our Glorious Monarch, 90 today by Michael Healy

Our Glorious Monarch, 90 today

Let no one doubt our Country’s good fortune,

Blessed by God is our bounteous Queen

Elizabeth, our Monarch, truly a lady, magnificently serene.

Her earliest days, as a young royal Highness,

Guided her as a source of wisdom and kindness.

Long may our Glorious Monarch Rein.

 

Her life is not much of her own

Attending events abroad and at home

Hosting Investitures and Regal Garden Parties

Making conversation on topics of obscurities, and rareities

Long may our Glorious Monarch Rein.

 

Although her National Role is vital and handled with great care,

Equally sure has been her Maternal role, deep with her Family Fair,

To provide the people with the talents and skills for Royal continuity.

Long may our Glorious Monarch Rein.

                                            Michaels quenn birhtday crown                                 By Michael Healy   

Errol by Joe Lyons

Errol by Joe Lyons

Errol was a dashing man

his looks were quite supreme

He was so proud and pompous

He thought every girls dream

He couldn’t walk past a mirror

without admiring his hair and fake tan

He would walk down the street

staring in windows like only he can

He came to the conclusion

He was the most magnificent of men

Head and shoulders above others

A true Adonis until when

A grey hair appeared in horror

he fled home in a dither

Until then Errol, so proud

he would admire himself and quiver

Pulling one grey hair out, he found another,

While he kept on pulling;

more and more he did discover

It could have been the end for Errol

and really got him down

But now he’s got a shiny bald head

that’s polished and brown

He’s still so vain and proud

thinking he is the best

Thinks he’s drop dead gorgeous

at least that’s what he said

Still thinks he’s head and shoulders above the rest

With shiny shoes below – up top, a shiny head

Now he’s changed his name from Flynn to Brynner

And everyone thinks he is onto a winner 

WORLD’S FIRST BABY by Pete Brammer

Pete loves to play with poetry. Try a two word per line piece yourself.

WORLD’S FIRST BABY

by Pete Brammer

Six days

Planet birth

Our earth

On seven

In Heaven

After test

Took rest

His plan

Make man

Did breed’n

In Eden

From rib

Massive fib

Snake bad’n

Temps Adam

Eats apple

Excites tackle

Erection caused

Adam scores

Eve preggers

Belief beggars

Poor Eve

You believe?