I am the smoke
That will simply float away
Drift away powerless to stop
There is a kind of beauty about me
Also there is danger in me
I am mercurial
I am thick like pea soup fog
Or thin and translucent like a veil
I have no purpose
I am only an after thought
I am the villain
A bi product of something useful
A fool in a high station, such as John Prescott
Is
like a man on the top of a small hillock
Everything
below appears small to him
And
he appears small to everybody, the pillock
I learned that silent company
Will
often suffice
And
is often more healing
Than
words of advice
Who goes there?
What
about bob
When
the saints go marching in
Where
does it hurt?
Why
doc
Photo Copiers are Female,
Definitely
I can tell you plain
Because
once turned off
It
takes time to warm them up again.
They
are an effective reproductive device
If
the right buttons are pushed
But
can play merry hell
If
the wrong buttons are pushed
I’m fifty years old this year
How
did I get so old?
I’m
lucky to have survived childhood
It
was so dangerous or so I’m told
Our
cots and toys, brightly colored
With
lovely lead-based paint,
No
child-proof caps or locked cupboard doors
We
actually played in the kitchen how quaint
We
rode bikes without helmets,
Or
any other form of protection
We
rode in cars without seat belts
Choosing
the front seat without hesitation
We
drank water straight from the tap
And
very often from a brook or stream
We
ate sweets with dirty hands
And
our milk was topped with real cream
We
ate full fat chips and bread and real butter
Milk
puddings and jam Roly Poly
We
drank fizzy pop full of sugar
But
we never suffered from obesity
When
we were out playing in a group
We
bought one big bottle of pop
Probably
eight or even ten of us
All
drinking from the same bottle top
We
built our own go-carts
Out
of bits of scrap, very crude
We’d
crash and get bloodied and bruised
Even
the odd broken bone but no one got sued
In
the holidays we played out all day
Getting
home before it got dark
We
had no mobiles so no one could find us
We
did anything and everything just for a lark
We
played knock-down-ginger and afraid
Of
being caught after knocking the door
Our
parents wouldn’t get us out of trouble
In
fact they actually sided with the law
We
walked everywhere my mates and I
We
even had to walk to school
So
if you think things are better today
Then
you’re just a bloody fool
(This
poem is based on an email that was doing the rounds a few years ago. To the
best of my knowledge it was not credited to a particular writer but apologies
if I got that wrong.)
A
melody haunts me
Like
a ghost from way back
Familiar,
remembered
A
stardust memory
From
yesteryear
A
good memory
Of
a great time
Of
halcyon days
Never
to be seen again
I’m
back for an instant
Riding
the Clapham Omnibus
With
girls in cloche hats
And
dancing at the Palais
With
girls in silk stockings
Watching
Morris dancing
On
the village green
And
noisy steam trains
Thundering
into the station
Listening
to the band play
In
the park on Sundays
Walking
my girl home
After
a night at the pictures
Sunday
lunch at mums
A
welcoming fire in the grate
That
talk with dad
Before
my first date
A
simpler time a happier time
But
you can’t return
Even
if you want to
But
you can remember
