Contemplating Dating

People tell me I should try a little dating.
Go on, dear’, they trill, ‘It’s just the tonic’,
Their nagging tends to get a
little grating,
so, I’ll meet you, Geoff, as long as it’s platonic.

It’s not easy for a spinster to engage
(at the age of sixty nine), with men at all,
and especially on a dating escapade.
I feel a tad embarrassed overall.

I’ll meet you at the library at six.
We’ll discuss the type of books you like to read.
Myself, I’m keen on art and politics.
I knit a bit and propagate from seed.

Grecian architecture tends to float my boat
also Romans and related artefacts.
More productive and engaging, take a note,
than spending time on body fluid acts.

There’ll be no talk of etchings in your room
so please don’t think I’m wet behind the ears.
It’s not the ears with urge incontinence, you know,
I like to have convenience quite near.

If we dine at all, I’ll do it Dutch, that’s fine,
but you mustn’t touch my veggies or my passionfruit soufflé.
Food exchange is unhygienic, kindly keep your hands off mine
or I might pick up a virus. Golly! What would Mother say?


It’s companionship I fancy, not a physical display.
If we venture to the cinema, eyes front toward the screen.
I like a film that’s jovial, uplifting in some way.
Mary Poppins is my favourite. She’s never been obscene.

You may walk me to my cottage – ‘round the back,
avoiding twitchy curtains. Mrs Davenport’s the worst.
Don’t try to slip your hand inside my North Face anorak,
and no kissing. Too familiar, and you must meet Mother first.

Hello…hello, you listening or just a trifle deaf?
Say something…speak to me…I doubt I’ll ask again.
Geoff?…Geoff? That’s strange. The line’s gone dead.
I’ll speak to him on Tuesday. He can make his mind up then.

Posted in Comedy, d'verse Prompts, Love & Romance, Poems In Text | 35 Comments

The Fast Brood Joint

I never intended to stop that day.
It was just a sudden urge.
Some sort of latent longing, maybe,
I just had to purge.

How could I resist?
I saw that huge B, yellow and towering
above the shop,
beckoning me, summoning me,
compelling me to stop.

“Good afternoon, Ma’am,”
said the uniformed assistant.
She smiled pleasantly,
probably gauging the nature
of my maternally-challenged resistance.

“Can I show you anything?”
she drawled, in a practised manner.
“Have you a colour preference, Ma’am?
By the way, I’m Hannah.”

Christian names seemed awkward,
so I just smiled and tried to chill,
but I couldn’t help clocking the
pound signs in her eyes, like a walking till.

“I’m just browsing,” I said, trying my best
to sound convincing.
I wished I’d built myself up more
with fish oils, garlic and ginseng.

“We have plenty of blues and quite
a lot of pinks,” she said, enthusiastic.
I made myself a promise not
to put one on my plastic.

About an hour later
I was driving down our street,
complete with impulse purchase
and accessories piled high on the seat.

To say I was a tad nervous
was to understate the fact.
I was racked with trepidation
of the fall-out from my act.

I was right.

“What’s that?” he screamed,
veins throbbing on his face.
“A baby girl – I got it from
the Fast Brood place.”

“My God!,” he cried in horror,
his mouth hung all agog,
“We wanted one a year ago,
but now we’ve got a dog.”

“I paid extra for a pretty one,”
I squeaked, trying hard to placate.
“Weaned and vaccinated
with a birth certificate.”

“Take it back!” he growled in anger,
“I bet it cost us dear.”
Sheepishly, I mumbled,
“Don’t book a holiday this year.

And anyway, there’s no returns
unless they’re fundamentally flawed.
You can see that this one’s perfect
and we couldn’t ask for more.

Now, while I mix some milk up
you can change the baby’s nappy.”
The face on him was calmer
but he wasn’t very happy.

I was feeling optimistic
when I heard his shriek of glee,
(very out of context as he’s
such a misery)

“Ah Ha!” he cried, “it’s going back.
Who’s been a silly billy?
She might be cute to look at
but, this girl has got a willy!”

Posted in Comedy, Life & Emotion, Poems In Text | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Your Ship Came In

You lingered in a deep and restless sea,
Ostensibly, a man content to be
Untethered by the bonds of wedded bliss;
Resistant to the charms of every Miss.

Simplistic in your chosen way of life,
Hard-fast, you vowed to never take a wife.
In stormy times you suffered solitude,
Preferring that to being misconstrued.

Champagne at breakfast time – you had your fill.
Another ghost upon your window-sill.
Meandering with tides that rolled and fell.
Enduring what, in truth, was living hell.

Inevitably, fortune took your hand.
Now, steadfastly, she anchors you to land.

See the video version 

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For England. For a Son.

d'verse

Bodhirose has set the challege of a Rondel for d’Verse Poet’s Pub

 

 

for England. for a son
manipulation reigned

an English maiden tamed
this history begun
sacred laws undone
a regal country stained

for England. for a son
manipulation reigned
rejoice ye, everyone
for Anne, a queen ordained

no sons! a queen detained
an execution won
for England. for a son
 

Posted in d'verse Prompts, Historical, Poems In Text | 22 Comments

Flight of Haiku

the wings of haiku

fly high over many heads

skimming chosen few

Posted in Poems In Text, Spiritual | Leave a comment

My Glorious Wedding Day

Bride

Oh, what a day!
The vicar – nodding, smiling said,
‘If any person have a reason
why they can’t be wed…’.
From near the back a
woman said,
‘Damn right, he’s wed to me’.
A dreadful lull
consumed the church.
Oh, what glorious a day!

d'verse

dVerse Poets Pub – Challenge from Bjorn – The challenge is to write a poem of exactly 44 words (a Quadrille) using the chosen word: Lull

Posted in Comedy, d'verse Prompts, Life & Emotion, Poems In Text | Tagged , | 16 Comments

A Villanelle for Anne

Anne

A Villanelle for Anne

They failed to filch her fine and noble mien
when Anne Boleyn endured the bloody stand.
Poor Queen! So swift the sword on Tower Green.

Fifteen thirty three could not foresee
this heinous act by Cromwell’s sinful hand,
yet still they failed to filch her noble mien.

Twas Henry, so obsessed with rage to glean
a son and heir for merry England.
Poor Queen! So swift the sword on Tower Green.

How stealthily does fortune warp the scene.
Betrothed in majesty; so bluntly damned,
And yet, they failed to filch her noble mien.

The ‘hangman from Calais‘ equipped the scheme.
In haste he struck the deadly blow. Poor Anne!
Poor Queen! So swift the sword on Tower Green.

In face of death prevailed a humble queen.
God praise the King; long may he rule the land’.
That day, they did not steal her noble mien.
Hail Queen! So swift the sword on Tower Green.

by ShirleyB

Posted in Historical, Life & Emotion, Poems In Text, The Villanelle | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Old Words, Love and Burger Boxes

A sad Valentine’s poem.

 

This year was different
or was it me?

same Trafalgar crowds
link-armed-laughing

pigeons
puff-chested gluttons

different air
full of afterthoughts
I could almost touch
fluttering away
like rusting leaves
on winter’s breath

I waited
on our bench
dark cold
stark old
wood

lovers kissed shyly
birds squawked
she laughed
eyes wide
flushed cheeks

Valentine’s heart pounding
in a fledgling chest

I wondered if she were me
willing me to remember
hugging him close

I longed
to melt inside her happiness

old words, love and burger-boxes
where do they go?

Posted in Life & Emotion, Love & Romance, My Video Poems | Leave a comment

Would I Return

d'verse

A prompt by Adhra for d’verse – poets pub
So today I ask this question to you – do you want to reborn as who you are? Do you think you could come back like a bird? What would you be looking for if you come back?

Eagle

Would I return where once I trod
this mortal stage of transitory breath

to soar on wing of eagle skimming forest pine
that nestle with the verdant heath

or glide with dolphin grace in oceans
deep and free of earthly woe

these antics, tho’ romantically ideal
are not in me

this soul will not return

because
in love
I will abide

And never leave.

Posted in d'verse Prompts, Life & Emotion, Poems In Text, Spiritual | 26 Comments

The Bridge

Bridge

Today is Haibun Monday at dVerse.  A haibun is a Japanese form that combines prose with haiku. Photography courtesy of gabriella.

It had been an unrelenting journey. We’d cowered from the savage rage of milky-topped mountains; endured the critical eye of rustling ash and quizzical oak, stared into the glare of petrified deer and frantic fox as salmon leapt in grand salute and toads on stools stood in watchful unison.
Choice was for the privileged. Ours was none. The Bridge was all. We prayed with tears as every tumbling waterfall, surge of spray and scurrying rivulet streamed us ever closer. Truth drifted towards us with its fragrant allure. Then it was there.
Regal in authority.
Ancient in wisdom.
Quiet in strength underfoot.
Now we would survive.

life deserves decisions
each person finds where truth exists
seek your own true bridge

Posted in d'verse Prompts, Life & Emotion, Poems In Text, Spiritual, The Haibun | 30 Comments