60 YEARS LATER

I was four and half when I rushed into Granny and Grampy’s to show off my first school shoes by putting them on the kitchen table. Granny screamed and knocked them to the floor saying in a voice of doom “There’ll be a death in the family”. Sure enough, there was sixty years later.

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RED CAMPION

Her hair had caught in her mouth so she tossed her head back. “Red Campion!” She exclaimed as she walked through the woods. “That’s my favourite flower come spring”. She was, as usual, walking with just her dog but saw no reason not to voice her joy out loud.

Dog sniffed and snuffled amongst the undergrowth whilst she carefully looked for mushrooms at the base of an old oak tree.

Suddenly she was was grasped by the throat and slowly sank to the ground. Her dog galloped about thinking it a game. The man tightened his squeeze, never uttering a sound and she died. He caught the dog, put on its leash and went home satisfied.

Who needs pictures

When I go to a beautiful place I share it with my love

When I see a beautiful morning I share it with the bees

When I see an old lady, lonely on her trail, I just smile, pick up her shopping

And listen to her life.

I don’t need to take pictures.

THE PULLMAN

I don’t subscribe to technology

I don’t have a mobile phone

I do have a listening ear

However to harken my neighbours moan

I much prefer bees droning

Then people on their line

Just stop and look at the daisy

The world is just sublime

I’ve suffered a silent carriage

On a train out of Paddington

And heard the low buzzing

From earphones not quite plugged in and quite absurd

Being British I’ve just turned my pages

Of an old fashioned murder and sex

Given glances to fellow travellers

To put stop to their whispers and texts

I’m from the time of Agatha Christie

The days when things were quite still

If you don’t put down your technology now

Then with this gun I shall have to kill

OLD FARTS

An impromptu bout of sex

Next to the last revolution of the washing machine

After the final kiss

It’s a hunt round the house for our slippers

Let’s settle down in front of the tv now

Nestled in our respective dressing gowns

A smile on our faces

Sheer love and bliss

My ego needs stroking.

My ego needs stroking

I know, I think I’ll tweet

About my deepest feelings, what’s going down.

That’s what the public think

Of their own cares and discoveries,

No doubt they’ll think I’ll care.

Must switch off the button now

I don’t, after all, wish to share.