Life on a Pension

LIFE ON A PENSION!

Granny, off on a spree one day, went zooming down the highway.

Shouting to other vehicles 'Don't dare to get in my way!

All my life I longed to drive, but no-one ever taught me!

Now I'm eighty have a look at the vehicle they've bought me!
I've put my best coat on to honour this event.
And if I bump into motor cars they'll only get a dent!

I've suddenly found freedom, The wind blows in my hair!

Well, it would if I took my scarf off! I wonder if I dare!

I sound my little hooter! I try to get up speed!

Fuel of a higher octane is the thing I really need.

I'd love to find a race-track and do 'wheelies' with the boys!

Why should only young ones have the pleasure of fast toys?

Don't try to overtake me! I have the right of way!

Yippee! I'm an Old Age Pensioner! This is my lucky day!'

 *

4. Let the Games Begin!

A friend introduced me to KIVA yesterday. I'd never heard of it, but I had heard of the system and it thrills me that I may become part of such a delicious scheme. And, let's face it, the fact that, in some small way, I may be able to help other women is an added bonus. This isn't a commercial, but my new-found interest has inspired today's rather-more-serious-than-usual poem. It's still a bit tongue-in-cheek though. I had no idea of advertising when I started this BLOG and I may never advertise again. I just couldn't resist this, though.

LET THE GAMES BEGIN!

There was a time when games were played by children;

When the adults were too occupied to play,

For their noses were pressed hard against the grindstone,

As they toiled till they were old and bent and grey.

But we're the really lucky generation,

With our health, our strength, our playing games on-line.

Arthritis may bedevil us, but we're still having fun

And 'second childhood's' something rather fine.

There's 'FREERICE'? What a site for sore eyes!

One's vocabulary grows, each day, more grand.

And each added grain helps ease another's hunger

And we feel a glow each time we lend a hand.

We may not be rich enough to make much difference,

And we may not be do-gooders in the least,

But, by playing games, we ease some little burden,

And a million million grains is quite a feast!

And KIVA seems to be another answer:

' What does charity achieve?' we often say.

Now, without a trace of any condescencion,

We can help someone, somewhere, in some small way.

And there must be other ways to play life's new games,

To have fun and, by so doing, feel that glow

That, maybe, millionaires have felt before us,

As our largesse helps another's small change grow.

The 'circuses' of ancient Rome were foretastes

Of the sad decline the empire would endure;

Some say our taste for modern 'beer and skittles'

Is a sign that we are in decline, for sure.

But I prefer to think that we can harness

Our childish little urge to have some fun.

After all, our selfish wish to live in comfort

Can be the goad for harnessing the sun.

So why not turn our backs on politicians,

With their wily ways and never-ending drone?

Humanity, it seems, loves to be playful.

Let's rule the world by having fun, alone!

The Eurovision Contest world-expanded,

Could decide the outcomes while mere mortals bet!

I wish I had a few more years of living!

It may happen one day, but, I fear, not yet.

2. My Midriff!

Day two and I'm in reflective mood. In my youth I yearned for perfection. As you can see, I never achieved it! But now, in my old age, I can rejoice at Life's delicious little bonuses. The little triumph of which I write, here, is a secret pleasure!

MY MIDRIFF

I'll never have a mottled midriff.

My diaphragm is white as snow.

For I never wore a brief bikini

In the days of long ago.

There were huzzies who displayed their glory

With a little strip of this or that.

Whose bosoms were all small and cheeky

And whose stomachs were completely flat.

How I envied them their long tanned bodies,

As they glistened and they baked and boiled!

While admiring men hovered round them

Making certain that each limb was oiled.

Every one of them was so appealing.

Their bikinis were so ......... almost-there,

And the sun shone down on every midriff

As it showed itself all taut and bare.

And their midriffs glowed a honey colour

With a healthy, oh so sexy shine.

While one unhappy little midriff

Was covered and that was mine!

I could say I was shy and modest,

I could say that my thoughts were pure,

I could say I was saving my beauty

For a love that would endure.

I could say that I wasn't jealous

I could say that I didn't care.

I could say when they bared their midriffs

That I didn't turn a hair!

But, would you believe my story?

Or would you merely snort,

Knowing that I was freckly

And plumpish and dull and short.

How I longed to be oiled and worshipped!

How I yearned to be tanned and lean,

But my midriff was rather flabby

Not the sort that should be seen!

So I wore a neat little one-piece,

Shirr-elastic was the craze.

And I kept my podge of a midriff

Away from the public gaze.

Now I see them when I'm out shopping,

Those goddesses of the past,

And I realise godess status

Isn't designed to last.

I can't see beneath their jumpers

Or their track-suits or their frocks

But I bet their glorious midriffs

Have taken some hard knocks.

I bet they're looking wrinkled

And mottled and past their best.

I bet they're secretly happy

That they're not displayed undressed!

The bathroom mirror reveals mine

Still a vague sort of untanned beige.

But I realise I was saving it

To enjoy in my old age!

It is Perfect, just like alabaster,

Still flabby but smoothly designed,

A little bit creased and dimpled

But innocent, young and unlined.

Whereas theirs are all freckled and wrinkly,

All mottled, a sun-scarred disgrace.........
If only I'd worn my swimsuit

Pulled right up over my face!