I didn't know what to expect!
Such unpleasant words had been said!
Our last conversation's been haunting my dreams
And ringing around in my head!
'If thats how you feel, well, I know where I stand!
We cannot be friends any more!'
And you'd turned on your heel with a toss of your hair
And headed straight out of the door!
I treasure our friendship! Yes! Deep down I do!
I'd take back my words if I could!
I've wept buckets of tears since last Wednesday, my dear!
I thought that I'd lost you for good!
And now, there you are, coming up the front path!
An immediate panic's set in!
Will there be a slanging-match just like before!
This time I shall just let you win!
But hey! That's a smile, and a wave of your hand!
A gesture that's friendly, for sure!
I can't wait to say sorry! I take all the blame!
Hang on while I open the door!
*
---------------------------------------------------------------
*
---------------------------------------------------------------
A GRAVE MATTER.
Fred was walking home one night across the old churchyard.
He felt a little nervous and so he was on his guard.
The moon was shining eerily between the fitful clouds
And they wafted up above his head like so many empty shrouds!
The monuments loomed over him, threatening and immense,
And it's putting it very mildly to say that he felt tense!
The leaves were rustling in the trees, like whispers from the grave,
And he shook and shivered in his shoes, for he wasn't very brave.
Suddenly he heard a sound! A chisel-chipping knock,
Like someone working in the night on a piece of stone or rock!
He froze then, feeling terrified! This was no time for toil!
Who could be working in this place, burning the midnight oil?
He glanced to right, he glanced to left, he nervously looked round,
And there he saw a shadowy man, kneeling on the ground.
He was no ghost, that he felt sure, so he strolled right up and said
'This is a funny time to work? Who are you? My name's Fred'.
And a ghostly voice responded in the darkness of the night....
*
'I'm altering my name' it said 'They didn't spell it right!'
*
Fred was walking home one night across the old churchyard.
He felt a little nervous and so he was on his guard.
The moon was shining eerily between the fitful clouds
And they wafted up above his head like so many empty shrouds!
The monuments loomed over him, threatening and immense,
And it's putting it very mildly to say that he felt tense!
The leaves were rustling in the trees, like whispers from the grave,
And he shook and shivered in his shoes, for he wasn't very brave.
Suddenly he heard a sound! A chisel-chipping knock,
Like someone working in the night on a piece of stone or rock!
He froze then, feeling terrified! This was no time for toil!
Who could be working in this place, burning the midnight oil?
He glanced to right, he glanced to left, he nervously looked round,
And there he saw a shadowy man, kneeling on the ground.
He was no ghost, that he felt sure, so he strolled right up and said
'This is a funny time to work? Who are you? My name's Fred'.
And a ghostly voice responded in the darkness of the night....
*
'I'm altering my name' it said 'They didn't spell it right!'
*
6 comments:
Thank heavens I feel beyond all that emotionalism and
stress now - I guess there is something about aging that grows on one. Wisdom, perhaps, if only it would
come sooner in life!
Your TWW poem ended perfectly..I like the thought that 'opening the door' gives a chance to repair broken relationships..thanks for your visit..Jae
Lovely work..
both of them are sooo good.. :)
Always a pleasure to read you...
electronically yours
I know that feeling of having said or done the wrong thing and wanting forgiveness and the relief that's felt when it comes.
http://itistimetothinkformyself.blogspot.com/2010/11/november-greetings-appreciations.html
Special awards for you. Happy Sunday! xx
Hope to see you at our potluck tonight.
you are #1 poetry producer,
keep it coming.
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