What can I do at 62 ?

Working long hours, a life I have lived

never expected anything, had nothing to give 

promoted many times to strive even harder

still there was no storage to put in the larder

I might just quit, what else is there to do? 

for a no good bastard of 62

Grasping at happiness, failing at all

many times over there is no drop to fall

career minded slave yet awkwardly blinded

deceit is the gift from trusting in kindness

I know it ends soon then I will go home 

though knowing my luck, I’ll be digging up bones

Poetry of Rhyme

One day I decided a poet would be brave

thus started the works of colour in grey

I glanced up at the clock ‘‘twas end of the day

my heart not content but filled with dismay

for it was broken by whatever  

some nonsense I had written

forlornly rhyming gibberish 

from a soul that had been bitten

A photographer I fancied

would be geographically flourished

so began taking pictures of the undernourished

mr blobby at his best in a white chequered vest

drinking a strong looking beer In an alcoholic mess

ignorantly not realising his heart was bereft

at the end of his nightmare taking a rest

someone said a ‘painter you possibly could be’

I held a brush in my hand and began merrily

painting a shadow, a wall, a house

spreading the paint in shape of a mouse

painting skirting, as grey as my heart

sometimes wishing, I never did start

then a master came along

said ‘a painter you’ll never be’

fruitfully hysterical, at the state of me

So I turned my life around, one last time

continued writing a book longer than a rhyme

I finished the end, the beginning was next

yet the middle was difficult it flustered me vext

I gave up the job with poetry in mind 

I wrote a diddle with a middle, of a boy with a fiddle 

a poem so soulful like a steak on a griddle

a story of life going down in the puddle

a poet I cannot be without rhyme and riddle. 

Little Butterfly

Come down here or you’ll get stuck 

do not flutter and fly into what’s bad luck

you may be pretty but your daft as a brush

going to nowhere to a higher up hush

come land on my hand I will take you outside

not near the light where you may get fried

there is freedom in trust and love in my word

to do anything but release you would be quite absurd

with a little understanding it flew and I cupped

sitting for a while not leaving abrupt

within a few minutes it flew into the sky

with a flap of its wings to whisper goodbye

A gift to the world

My one ‘true love’was a man that loved his mother

A man that cared for the world

A man that tried also to please everyone 

A man that was manipulated through life

A man in love with his daughter and wife

A man with a beautiful heart

A man that spoke to each and everyone

This man loved music and was considered a king

with a god given talent more precious than any

The day he died the whole world

Fell in to mourning destroyed by such loss

I was as heartbroken as were most 

stories have been told and the truth been lost

I pray to God that he is in heaven 

I also pray that one day I shall meet him 

by the side of Jesus Christ our lord

Thank you dear Lord for a gift given to all

Elvis Aaron Presley 

A la Carte’

Im not paying for the art im paying for the food

So’ instead of leaving me hungry and in a mood

give me enough to eat, then I’ll feel full

After eating I dont want to feel hungry as a lord

I don’t want to feel hungry at all

then go up the road eating McDonalds 

Our Dogs

Our best friends are our dogs, they love to go out, waiting in anticipation and looking at us intently; which is their talk, waiting for their favourite word ‘walk’

When we go to work people left are disgruntled showing it upon our return, they rarely learn, our dogs no matter how long alone, are excited to see us, wanting nothing more than to give us a fuss, they don’t hiss and cuss; ‘not our dogs’ they love our hugs and cuddles then to sleep off their hard days sleep. Feeding them are no hard joys, eating food that is pre-baked then now and again having steak

When we go to bed they lay on the end, no trouble to mend except the extra leg room to stretch, then slowly slip up the bed, resting behind our knees then nearer our head, waking up with a kiss to check if we’re dead.

We will only have them for a few short years and when that day comes we will cry tears and tears, why do we go through it against all odds, because we love nothing better but to love our dogs. 

 

No Daddy’s rich girl #

I grew old but I did not see, the last time since you desired me

I remember my dad he told me ‘no’

You don’t go messing with any old hoe

no daddy’s rich gal from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say ‘no’

Son, find a nice lady that you can love

a pretty little girl that won’t be shoved

I tell you this now coz I have paid

for loving everyone I have laid

they left me empty with nothing but bone

while talking to guys on the phone

so don’t go messing with any young hoe 

no daddy’s rich gal from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say no

Swee—et as a cherry and nice as a pie

blond haired beauty from eye to eye

ve—ry tasty and a cute hello 

Great kissing lips you dare not go

So I say don’t go messing with any hoe

No spoiled rich girl from head to toe

No, No, Nooo daddy’s rich girl that can’t say no