Monday, December 31, 2012

Resolutions/ Saving


(An Acrostic)

Reality takes a hike

Every New Year that comes around.

Suddenly we are sure

Our will-power will astound.

Luck will be on our side,

Unhappiness will depart.

Tomorrow will see us right,

If only we play our part.

Only January lets us down......

No doubt it is malicious....

Still, at the very start,

Resolutions are delicious.


(Another Acrostic)

Suddenly you are broke

And that is just no joke.

Value each little cent

It need not yet be spent.

Never waste your spare cash;

Guard money! Don't be rash!

Clean Slate/Resolution Unbroken



I have wiped the slate clean,

I'm no longer embroiled

In all the mistakes

Which have sullied and soiled.

I stand here new-born;

Like a babe I appear

And I plan to stay perfect

For all of next year.

If we meet up again,

At the end of December,

You'll gaze into my eyes

 And say 'Yes! I remember!

You're that one single person

Of infinite worth.....

The one person in all of the

Far-spreading earth

Who managed to keep

Every vow that you vowed!'
And I'll look rather smug

And a little bit proud!



You want a resolution?

An original resolution?

One that's sure to be kept to

Forever and a day?

One that wont be shattered

(As though that has ever  mattered)

One that wont be developing

Inevitable feet of clay?

Well, here's the resolution,

The ultimate solution,

Listen to it everyone,

It will help you to feel free .

'I resolve to dump the lot of them

Everyone I've got of them,

As soon as daylight's dawning

On January Three!'

*I'm not a smoker!

Down the Gurgler/Contrast


Watch it going down the gurgler!

Another year will flush away.

Even though we have enjoyed it

It refuses, point blank, to stay.

We may say 'Please! Please don't age me!

Let me stay this age a while!'

Time (some say it's non-existent)

Gives a sardonic little smile.

We may say 'It's been delightful!

I just can't bear this year to end!'

Time will merely shrug its shoulders

And keep on flowing round the bend.

Maybe this year's had its moments

Of agony and deep despair;

You just long for its dismissal

Feeling its cupboard now is bare.

All of us, are now united 

In facing up to what might be

When Time moves us, ever hopeful,

Into the year Two Oh One Three.



Out there the bustle and the sea.

In here there's only little old me.

Out there the sounds of roar and rush.

In here me, in my very own hush.

Change/Rebecca's Moon


When I was young, a million years ago,

The pace of change was very very slow.

Day followed day, unchanging,  I recall,

And nothing altered much, or not at all.

The telegram was heralded with delight

Or else a sense of shock, maybe of fright.

The telephone stood in its box of red

Waiting for words of import  to be said.

The car was something other people had,

Certainly not your average Mum and Dad.

And Sunday was a day of prayer and rest,

A day  of showing-off ones Sunday Best.

Day followed day and nothing ever seemed to change,

And that, of course, was really passing strange.

Because the undercurrent flowed inexorably

Toward a future that we could not see.

And now we've reached it, it is in clear view;

I am a modern person ; so are you.

And yet we are deceived.......we've not arrived!

Change is the only thing that has survived.

In sixty years you'll write a little verse

(Better than mine......or, maybe, even worse)

Describing the quaintness of your early years

And boring the pants off anyone who hears!


A tree, a moon and eyes that see

How beautiful a moon can be.

Just from an iPhone and just last night

And maybe not photographed quite right.

We looked, we saw and were enraptured

And here a little hint is captured.

Sometimes memory can impart

Real artistry to a work of art.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Dressing -Up/ Waiting for You

brebry@gmail dot com

A Google illustration


Though we live in a world of technology

Some things remain the same;

Dressing-up, for a little child,

Is still a wonderful game.

Nowadays there are outfits

To be bought at the local store....

Superman and Kermit

And many, many more.

When I was a child there was nothing

To aid imagination;

Everything was made from scratch

Whatever the situation.

My treasure chest was in the bathroom.....

The airing-cupboard no less,

Where our clothes were stored on the water tank

Till the time came for us to dress.

Warmed by the hot water,

Mum's were always a delight.

Though I was quite a different size

And quite a different height.

After my bath, when all towelled dry

And briefly left alone

I'd purloin things from the cupboard

And make those clothes my own.

Petticoats were just perfect

As ball-gowns for me to wear.

They were silky and clingy

And gave me a royal air.

'What are you doing, Brenda?'

A voice wafted up the stairs

And it was very important

That parents were unawares.

I'd cram clothes back in the cupboard,

No doubt in disarray!

I'd had to lower the curtain

On a really delightful play.


And oh the blueness of it all

As the cruise-ship drifts on by!

Blue chairs in a neat regimented row ,

Blue sea, blue land, blue sky.

Who could be blue on such a day?

Take your seat, and sail away.

Remnants/Shadow Land


Remnants of Christmas linger on,
Though most of the red and green has gone.
Here silver trees point up to the sky
Enchanting us as we walk by.
Like Dicken's ghost of Christmas past,
These ghosts weren't really made to last.

We are asked to use the words in blue

I think of the world of dementia
And I try to get a feel
For the way the  world appears to those
Whose  world has become unreal.
Is it full of ethereal nonsense
That doesn't make any  sense?
Is it effervescent or turgid,
Misty or all too dense?
Is meditation permanent,
Is perspective all askew?
Is demarcation a bottleneck
Where only the grey seeps through?
One trusts one will never know it,
That other-worldly state,
One hopes that the loss of ones own mind
Will never be ones fate.



(A Haiku)

The eager mind waits

For the pictures to arrive

And convince the eyes.



Once there was a wealthy sheik who was seriously ill.

He went to a well-known doctor who was famous for his skill.

Said the Doctor 'I can operate but your blood type is so rare

That without special blood to treat you I simply wouldn't dare

Attempt an operation! I'll try to find a donor

Even if I have to go as far as Barcelona!'

A worldwide search threw up the name of a Scotsman name of Mack

Who was really down on his luck and living in a shack.

The Scotsman gladly gave his blood and the Sheik was so impressed

That he showered him with presents from his bottomless treasure chest.

Along with fifty thousand dollars he gave him stocks and shares

And soon there was an improvement in poor old Mack's affairs.

Sad to say, the operation was not a complete success

Which caused both Sheik and Surgeon a great deal of distress.

'I must operate on you again' the  Doctor said at last.

The operation was successful and, for Mack, a gift arrived

From the ever-grateful  Sheik who was so glad that he'd survived.

It was just a box of chocolates and Mack   was rather vexed.

He had hoped for money and, in truth, he was perplexed.

He wrote to the Sheik 'Excuse me. I don't like to complain

But I expected more from you when I gave blood again.'

The Sheik replied 'Please understand , that was all I could allow.

Don't forget I have Scottish blood flowing in me now.'

Saturday, December 29, 2012

The Echo


(We are asked to use the three words in blue.)


The echo of their voices comes winging down the years,

Speaking very softly, full of pain and desperate tears.

Their spouses have loud voices;  they bully and they shout.

They do not need to whisper; they know what  life's about.

'Don't answer back, my lady! Or else you'll feel my belt!

And don't you dare complain about the hand that you've been dealt!

How dare you mention hardship! So you're slaving night and morn!

Don't you realise, you fool, that 's the reason you were born!

Try telling your story to the police! They'd  say you waste their time!

If I beat you it's a 'domestic' and not counted as a crime.'

The voices of the women come whispering down the years

However softly they're speaking the heart of a woman hears.


We're never far from the water,

Never far from ships.

There are those that carry the coal out
And those that go on trips.
But here we have the fishing-fleet
Rocking at its ease,
Smelling of its cargo
And all the surrounding seas.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Tooth and Claw

Using all the words in blue

It seemed so peaceful in the garden;

The plants were waving to and fro,

Slightly agitated by the breezes

That gently, very gently, blew.

But then I saw, on television,

A time-lapse shot of the self-same scene!

And I was completely gob-smacked

The garden was certainly not serene!

A sudden rustle, a sudden spasm,

An almost bursting through!

The hurl of a tendril at another;

The clench of a little stem or two!

Filmed as a time- lapse all seemed rapid.......

Rampant ego was what I saw.

Every bush and plant determined!

Nature red in tooth and claw.

Reach the sunlight! Find your own place!

Nature insisted, they obeyed.

It was  a battle mean and bloody

All played  out in a leafy glade!

What had seemed spacious, calm and peaceful

Was the scene of a fight to the death!

In this rare footage I had witnessed

Foliage breathing its final breath !

What an enigma! Human beings

Keep on repeating 'We must have peace!'

But if Nature itself is bent on warfare

There's no possible chance that wars will cease.


It's just a throwaway line, that's meant to make us laugh,

And yet a hint of truth is there as well.

Pretending we don't care is often the way to go

If someone makes our life a living hell.

A bully only enjoys his 'craft' if he can get 'results'

A happy smile can turn his wrath away.

Pretending not to care is a weapon of defence

So we can learn to cope another day.
Rebecca and Brian bought Greg's boys a water-slide for Christmas. Here they are, ready to enjoy it.


And I went with Greg to visit his next-year school today. I was very impressed with the size of the classroom, but it certainly needs beautifying. Harry played on the computer as we chatted.