age – memories and nonsense take 2

babbling about age
joints (a different kind)
that ache in rain
sounds of oohs and aaahs
stiff bones –  (sat too long)
bending with a sock

wrinkles (don’t get me started)
tired arches – heels too high
energy zapped
end of the day (do I have to cook)
tablets – herbs- vitamins
body rattles walking pharmacy

one could ask (no I do ask)
how much to they alleviate
placebos of the mind
thinking of ahead
walking sticks (possibly frames)
be gone with you

for ageing brings memories
smack bang – the hippocampus
of daisy chains
Hendrix – Joplin
laughter sitting cross legged
gunji – beer

music deafening
rattling walls – parents
banging loud on doors
escaping through the
flywire screens –
just a sleep over at my

riding bareback
flirting with the boys
hikes in forests
watching the sunrise
all night movie marathons
popcorn – hugs in the

age – best not to think
of what is left – how to
mark our days
think of
who we were
what we did
we may be older
but inside (where we live)
nothing’s really changed

Morning Blight

oh child please
stop crying
coffee spilt
toast burnt
can’t you wear
odd socks to school?
have you looked
under your bed?
I know they are your
but you have a few to choose
I plead… how about a different kind?
you shake your head you pout
I sigh…
yes stop your sniffling sweety
mummy will try to find
there really are OTHERS
that we can find to
I give mutterings
through clenched
this day’s not over

crying dog
PLEASE stop whining
I’ll get your
breakfast soon
don’t give me guilts
with puppy dog eyes
as I race
from room to room
for a SOCK!!
where can it be?
what about these?
no darling YOU’RE
right of course
there NOT the same
oh give me strength
I tell myself
am I the one
to blame

DAMN murmurs from
the other half
echo from the room
what’s YOUR
problem hun I ask?
trying hard not too
sorry what
geez stop your grizzling
NO I didn’t iron
any shirts
but are you
that incompetent
YOU can’t iron them
I’m on a mission
here can you lend
a hand
no sorry what YOU’RE
running late…no time
…as IF I do
can I chuck a temper
tanti and yell and
scream at YOU!

heaven help me
I hear footsteps
of teenage daughter
thumping down
the stairs
slamming door to room
you’re so not wearing
THAT in public
sweet product of my womb
fingers clenched
I whisper …
don’t mess with me today
I’M not letting you
wear that dress
with half your rear
end on display

husband DEAR
the dog’s in need of
the child
is screaming for
her SOCK
your daughter… well
see what she wears
can YOU see what
she looks like
oh…you haven’t time
to reprimand
then guess it’s ME
who’ll have the

morning juggle
hormone inflamed
teenage girl
un-ironed shirt a
missing sock
and the starving
whimpering dog
rush and pandemonium
I run
frantically to
the day has sadly just begun

…this is MY catastrophe

In light of the ‘real’ catastrophes around the world, I thought I would try and lighten it a little with my definition.


If only they would – Poetry

If I have to shout it from the rooftops

do not think I won’t

For god’s sake please clean up your mess

or you will be in strife


while you’re at it tidy your room

get those clothes up off the floor

move those mouldy half drunk drinks

or I swear you’ll get what for


has your toilet seen a brush

remove those empty rolls

and while you’re on the spring clean

I’ll be doing a patrol


do you think that’s it’s hygenic

it really isn’t nice, you probably have

dead spiders or hell there could be mice


do you think that you could make your bed

even just pretend, tuck the sheets in underneath

or is slapdash the latest trend


your bath and basin need a scrub

oh and the shower too

and dusting of your furniture

it’s not that hard to do


what about the papers

scattered round the place

do you think they could be neater

or do you need MORE space


vacuum the carpet if you please

if you can find your floor

and take the wet towels off the hooks

that are right behind your door


NO I shouldn’t have to close your door

so that others will not see

you have to learn to tidy up

and not leave it up to me


clear that rubbish from under bed

there’s a wardrobe you can use

it’s built for clothes to hang up

hell it’s even meant for shoes


do I have to tell you twice

over and over again

it’s not that hard to tidy up

I’ve been doing it all my life


how about opening your curtains

you don’t live in an oubliette

why the dark and dismal room

it’s certainly no retreat


when was the last time you ironed

you clothes aren’t wash and wear

or do you like that crinkled look

the one that I can’t bare


how about giving me a hand

or do you want to be a sloth

be nice to have can i help you mum

before I start to froth


maybe your rooms your hiding spot

where your mess can quietly hide

but believe me if you do not clean

I’ll be spanking your backside!