Making Plans

WEEKEND REFLECTIONS

http://newtowndailyphoto.blogspot.com.au/

MAKING PLANS

(Harry is actually helping me to write this! He is very nearly eight years old)

Harry, my grandson, is helping me

To write a poem about the sea.

He's standing here, right by my side,

Because, you see, he's mystified!

'Why write poems?' he says to me!

He's as puzzled as he can be.

'It's my hobby' I reply;

'I'll do it until the day I die!

You play soccer! And cricket too!

And those hobbies mean a lot to you.

I write poems because, for me,

They're part of my personality.

But let's get back to this picture here!

What this lady is doing is not quite clear.

But we think, in her imagination,

She's picturing a situation!

Her grandsons would like this shining sea!

(She has grandsons just like me!)

She's imagining a sunny day

When both her grandsons come to stay.

She has a picnic in her mind;

One of a grand-sunny kind.'

*

Thank you, Harry; you've helped a lot!

This poem has really hit the spot!

*

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INTRIGUE

He turns the key!

What will he see

Inside the Yellow Room?

What fiends from Hell

Will sound his knell,

Rising up in the gloom?

The floor-plan shows

Neat rooms in rows;

Has he chosen the right one?

Will he survive

And come out alive

When this adventure's done?

*

Toothache

THREE WORD WEDNESDAY

http://www.threewordwednesday.com/

We are asked to use the three words in blue.

TOOTHACHE

Of the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to

It seems to me that toothache is the worst.

The pain can sear right through one like a blow-torch

And make one feel that one is truly cursed.

And if misfortune leads one to a dentist

Who is just a callow novice, nothing more,

The agony will no doubt be compounded!

*

I'm just warning you of what may be in store!

*

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TOMORROW

'Tomorrow is another day'; I think that's rather trite.

After all day always follows day, with an intervening night.

Scarlett O'Hara coined the phrase, when surrounded by her trouble;

When everything in life had gone, and all she saw was rubble.

She squared her shoulders, raised her head, and looked up to the skies,

Determined to make a go of things, although she'd been unwise.

There's a tone of optimism in her voice, a hint of future schemes;

We sense she'll go on to succeed and realise all her dreams.

But it can work the other way. After all, if you're the tops,

Tomorrow may disappoint you with a litany of flops!

It's no good flaunting yourself around and thinking you're the best,

When tomorrow may come and shock you because nobody's impressed.

Be prepared for disappointment and then  you can really say

With absolute sincerity

'Tomorrow's another day'.

*

Tenuous Link

Lily

TENUOUS LINK!
(For Trevor)

I'd like to be related to this gorgeous little tot,

But, though it hurts to say it, I fear that I am not!

Little Lily's great-grandfather is Mr Tucker's son,

A fact which wont mean much at all, when all is said and done!

Mr and Mrs Tucker took me in in 1943

When I was that historic thing, a Wartime Evacuee.

Trevor, who was son and heir, is the great-grandfather of Lily!

He was fourteen, I was twelve, both of us young and silly.

But Trevor went on to have Isobel and Isobel had a son,

And Isobel's David is the father of this gorgeous little one.

So let's count the generations from Mr Tucker to now........

Five generations of Tuckers are able to take a bow.

Compared with the Queen with eleven P.M.s, five doesn't sound like much.

But this is the reward you get if you spend life 'keeping in touch'.

First it was letters, then telephone calls, then tapes , which now are dated;

 I'm sure any genealogist would say that I'm related!

*

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ENGROSSED

You look so lovely, darling; I love that windswept look!

Let me take another one to stick in my memory book!

Now say 'Cheese!'. That's gorgeous. I'm a sucker for your smile.

So sweet! So warm! So simpering! Oh how you do beguile!

Don't worry about waves, dear; they're still a long way out.

Oh bother! Here's a big one........................

*

Adrift

                Maggie Taylor

SENSATIONAL HAIKU WEDNESDAY
http://youknowthatblog.com/
ADRIFT

Drift along a stream

Or drift aimlessly through life

For good or for ill

*

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The words in blue are from Eleanor Roosevelt.



FRIENDSHIP

(After Patience Strong)

Friendship with oneself is all important;

Enjoy your you-ness every single day.

Be constantly aware

Of the great world that you share,

With that person who's inside you all the way.

*

Friendship with some others is exciting;

When one's liked it's the icing on the cake.

But, without self-love, you'll find

No real warmth inside your mind,

So you cannot give, but only merely take.

*

Forgive yourself for all your small shortcomings;

Don't be hard on someone who should mean so much.

Then you'll find you can forgive

Other folk with whom you live

And you can give the world a tender touch.

*

A baby loves itself, it's quite self-centred;

It's the centre of its little universe;

Then it learns to love one other,

Its own adoring Mother.

Loving others is a task we must rehearse.

*

Light a little flame of liking in your own mind,

Then let it shine on others every day.

Friendship's one of life's great pleasures,

Let's dispense it in large measures.

A friendship with ourselves shows us the way.

*

Pylon Attack!

BIFOCAL UNIVISION
http://bifocalunivision.blogspot.com.au/
gave us the prompt illustration


PYLON ATTACK!

I see him in the distance as he strides across the fields,

The Great Grey Pylon Monster, before whom nature yields!

We've strengthened our defences, with barriers of wire,

But we know that soon our future may be desperate and dire!

We thought that they were static, fastened deep into the ground!

We'd never heard of pylons that could actually move around!

Some poets mentioned 'striding' over hill and over dale,

But that was merely fanciful; it didn't make us quail.

But then, one night, they began to roar, for all that they were worth!

They dragged their iron-clad legs and feet from the fastnesses of earth!

They began to stride around the land in all reality!

Oh dear! I see him coming! And he's coming straight for me!

*

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Inspired by Mad Kane

THE BLOT

A fellow was hatching a plot

To explain what he saw in a blot.

He saw the moustache

Of that clever Rorschach

Who said 'A moustache it is not!'

*

Self-Inflicted!

        Rockwell

ABC WEDNESDAY

letter 'S'

SELF-INFLICTED!

He couldn't be more macho, this sailor home on leave!

Be we can feel his anguish, now he's folded back his sleeve.

I fear he's been unfaithful for, let's say, the umpteenth time,

And displaying a previous special name is tantamount to crime.

He's only having the names crossed-out, so his deeds will all be known,

But, when it comes to tattooing, I'm sure he's not alone.

How many people, now tattooed, will wish the tattoo gone,

When times and fortunes alter, and life has just moved on?

When time and tide, not waiting, change hair from brown to grey,

And wrinkles start appearing in a quite surprising way,

The tattoos will still linger, just hidden by folds of skin

And they'll look bigger, bolder, on arms that have grown thin!

This sailor is suffering agony, though he's trying not to moan,

And, even today, removal can make a strong man groan.

Of all the modern fashions, tattooing takes the cake.

In fifty years the young men will all realise their mistake!

*

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Kevin van Aelst

WORLD-CLASS NIBBLE!

Kevin! I'd be gratified

If you'd cast modesty aside

And give me access to your teeth,

Those above and those beneath!

You must be the best of chew-controllers,

Keeping in check those twinkling molars!

I could nibble the Pacific Ocean

With one great snapping-turtle motion,

For, after all, the Ocean's wide;

I could fit the great chunk inside

One cheek, turning my attention

To something smaller in dimension!

The Atlantic wouldn't be too tough,

Although I'd find it hard enough!

But the English Channel would make me quibble

With having to do a ratty nibble.

And the Suez Canal is, simply, wee,

And it would prove too much for me!

One canine tooth would be required

And the nibble would be, well, inspired!

Kevin! I'd be gratified

If you'd cast modesty aside

And admit a little blade was used!

All right Kevin!

You're not amused!

*

Utiful

RUBY TUESDAY

UTIFUL!

Utiliarian? Certainly!

But a beautiful utility.

So I have coined a brand new word,

Which some may find a mite absurd.

'Utiful' seems to fill the bill.

This bus is not your run-of-the-mill

Clod-hopping omnibus of old,

Which was a lumpkin to behold.

True, I thought it was OK

When I caught one in London every day.

The shape, the lines were comforting,

Although the seats lacked a certain spring!

The double-decker was defined

By being rather un-designed.

This new vehicle does its duty

But seems to me a thing of beauty.

That rear window is superb,

Catching each eye at the waiting kerb.

That echoing line along the side

Makes every ride an artistic ride!

The curve of the roof is pure perfection,

Looked at from each and any direction.

It's almost worth the exorbitant fare

And hours of flying through the air,

To be back in London to join a queue

And do what Brits are free to do........

Ride this utiful thing on wheels

And find out how satisfaction feels!

*

Incidentally, look at that rain!

I'd soon fly back to Oz again!

*

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SIZZLING SUCCESS!

The men have returned from hunting,

All of them bold and brave.

The women and children are waiting

Deep in the depths of the cave.

The men grunt as they cut up a mammoth;

They grunt as they carve up the chops;

They grunt as they rub their stomachs.

The grunting never stops.

It's then that the women take-over,

As they bustle around with the food.

Grunting, they have discoverd,

Is masculine, rough and crude.

While the men have been been busy grunting,

The women have learned to speak!

They've been chattering away to the children

Like mad since Saturday week!

As the mammoth steaks are cooking

A strange new sound is heard;

The females of the species

Have invented a brand new word.

They have heard the sound the fat makes

As it's dripping on the flame;

They're inventing onamatapoea

Though they've never heard the name.

As the fats drip into the fire,

They let out a glad refrain!

'Sizzle!' they shout in triumph,

'Sizzle!' they cry again.

*

The men, who, still, are speechless,

Gape at this curious stunt.

And, ever since then, if you're manly,

You don't do much more than...grunt.

*