January Blues

I don’t know about everyone else, but to me January tends to stretch out rather flat and depressing after the Christmas lights get taken down.  I’ve written a poem below about January, my least favourite month of the year.  I also asked Sam to take January away and bring the sunshine.  He says he can do it, but it’s going to take him about 6 months…

January Blues, by Stevie Turner

Copyright Stevie Turner 2020

 

Twinkling Christmas lights

Green, yellow, blue and red

Are strung around the garden

And over the roof of our shed.

 

Sam is creative

When it comes to lights

The neighbours all look

And say “How nice!”

 

But now Christmas is over

And the garden needs to be fixed,

It’s unlucky to leave lights up

Past January the sixth.

 

Sam scrabbles around

In a cold stiff breeze

Unhooking strings of coloured lights

From the branches of our trees.

 

Sodden grass all churned up

By his huge Wellington boots,

As he pulls out wires

Down amongst the trees’ roots.

 

Brown mud, bare branches,

And spring bulbs shooting through

Are all that is left

And the odd broken bough too.

 

The garden has lost its former glow

That both of us adore,

The lights have gone for another year

Until it’s Christmas time once more.

 

But spring bulbs promise warmth

And a sun that brightly burns,

We raise a glass to summer

While awaiting the lights’ return.

Magical

I had to laugh (and agree) at Brian Lageose’s ‘The 12 Pains of Christmas’:

The 12 Pains of Christmas – Part 2

After the less than pleasurable drive to the supermarket this morning, I used Brian’s title and made up this poem whilst sitting in a queue of traffic.  I only needed to buy 6 things, but it took me 2 hours to get back home.  The magic of Christmas has started to bite.

On the twelve pains of Christmas

I hope that you’ll agree …

Twelve miles of tailbacks

Eleven diversion signs

Ten loos shut for cleaning

Nine ladies desperate

Eight road closures

Seven people shouting

Six cars competing

No spaces left …

Four honking horns

Three potholes

Two boy racers with a stripe,

And a white van up my exhaust pipe.

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Image by shilin wang from Pixabay

Knees, Please

This gallery contains 34 photos.

Originally posted on lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown:
Think of all the things you wouldn’t be able to do if you didn’t have knees!…

Rate this:

Conduct Unbecoming

 

One’s memory has lapsed,

One doesn’t recall

If one had sex with that girl

Or not at all.

 

The photo shows one

With an arm around her waist

Upstairs in his house

One denies it took place.

 

Whoops, one has made a mistake,

How would one know …

If it was upstairs

When upstairs one didn’t go?

 

One danced with her at Tramps

In a fevered sweat

But one doesn’t perspire

It’s a medical complaint.

 

Deny, deny, deny

That’s all one can do

When the press start hounding

And that woman does too.

 

Amnesia strikes

It’s plain to see,

One didn’t have sex,

It wasn’t me.

 

Having witnessed the denials

The country is bemused

Mother however,

Is not amused.

A Poem for You

I had another clear scan last week, and found this poem I’d written back in 2017 when I was sitting in the main concourse of Addenbrooke’s Hospital nervously drinking tea before having radiotherapy.

Who’s Worse? by Stevie Turner

Here I sit and drink my tea

Before my appointment in Oncology.

A sea of people pass before my eyes,

Fat ones, thin ones; every shape and size.

On their way to who knows what?

Maybe to see a doctor and find out what they’ve got.

Whatever they have I bet I can see

Someone here who’s worse off than me.

Yes, there he is, a little old dude

In a wheelchair and with an oxygen tube.

*

Here I sit in my wheelchair and seethe

‘Cos I’ve smoked all my life and now I can’t breathe.

I’m on this pill and that one, green, red and blue,

Still no difference; I can’t even walk to the bloody loo.

Never mind, my old lady will wheel me off

To Respiratory, where they’ll get me to cough

And breathe out into that tube which I can’t do,

Because of cigarettes, ‘cos I’ve smoked quite a few.

Oh well, Maybe I can see

Someone here who’s worse off than me.

There she is, poor old cow,

No arms, no legs, just a torso.

*

My motorised wheelchair is the best,

I get around from east to west.

Along the hospital corridors I fly

To see my mate who’s going to die.

I was born this way, I know no other,

I’m used to it; it’s really no bother.

I overtake a dude with an oxygen mask,

Who’s wheezing like every breath’s his last.

And a thin woman sitting drinking her tea,

No hair under that scarf that I can see.

Poor lady, so sad to be that way,

At least I’ll see another day.

She gives me a smile as she sips her tea

As she probably thinks… there’s someone who’s worse off than me.

5th Halloween Poem Contest – 2nd Group Of Submitted Poems —

Thanks to Aurora Jean Alexander for publishing my Halloween poem that I submitted for her contest.

Writer's Treasure Chest

Picture courtesy of: http://preventioncdnndg.org/

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Pleaserespect each authors’ and poets’ copyright. The rights remain with the writers. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without expressed and written permission from each of the poems author’s is strictly prohibited and violates copyright laws in the country you are reading this work in as well as in the country you are trying to re-publish this work in. – Aurora Jean Alexander

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Halloween

by

Donna Matthews

goblins and ghouls shrieking all night
it’s halloween! the witches dance and sing
haunting humanity with terror and fright

vampire bats wake and take flight
tender young necks a delicious thing
goblins and ghouls shrieking all night

gravediggers shovel dirt; sneering with delight
human spare and found parts they fling
haunting humanity with terror and fright

the boogeyman tall, fearsome and might
terror and dread his shadow will bring
goblins and ghouls shrieking all night

zombies moan…

View original post 577 more words

#BlogBattle: Clone

Just sharing Anita Dawes’ excellent poem on the subject of being a twin. I went to school with identical twins, Christine and Pauline. Literally only their mother could tell them apart. They even made sure they had the same colour hair bands on! We never knew which one was which, so we called them ‘Twin’. If one of them was off school sick, the other one looked quite lost. When they left school they worked together behind a shop counter, but I lost track of them after that. I wonder what they’re doing now?

anita dawes and jaye marie

October 2019 Blog Battle

Our word this month is:

CLONE

You can start writing at any time, but make sure you post your story by the 30th of the month to have your story shared here and on social media.

Once you’ve posted your story to your blog, put a link to it in the comments section, and we’ll add your story to the Battle Stories Line-up post.

Make sure to check back and read some of the stories of your fellow battlers. Leave comments to encourage these writers, and share each other’s stories!

Basic Rules:

The Prompt Word will be given the First Tuesday of Every Month.

Post your story by the 30th of the Same Month.

                                                                  #BlogBattle: Clone

All from a Single Cell

Things I dislike about being a twin

I wonder if our egg split in the right manner

I’m right-handed, she’s left. Yes, I call…

View original post 255 more words

Anyone for Tennis?

It’s the penultimate day of Wimbledon today, and I haven’t watched so much TV for a long time!  I love a good tennis match, and tomorrow I’ll hopefully get to watch the last minutes of the men’s singles final from the van.   I’ve composed a poem in honour of my favourite sport:

ANYONE FOR TENNIS?

© Stevie Turner 2019

They seek the winner’s golden cup

But the competition’s tough.

Serve and volley,

Smash and lob.

Fifteen love.

 

Serve and volley

Backhand pass

Was it out?

Challenge with a shout.

Have to heed the referee’s call.

Fifteen all.

 

Serve but no volley

An ace down the line,

Spectators clap.

Serve and volley

A puff of chalk seen.

Thirty fifteen.

 

Serve and volley

Drop it over the net,

Run to save the set.

Backhand slice,

Very nice.

Bat that ball!

Thirty all.

 

Serve and volley

Start a rally

Fifteen strokes from the baselines.

Accurate passing shot.

Opponent too sporty.

Thirty forty.

 

Serve and volley,

Agony,

Dodgy knee joint.

Championship point.

Spectators ooh and ah.

Serve and volley

Lob and run

Smash it home.

Match is won.

What If?

One of my favourite things in life is to go out walking early in the morning when nobody else is about, especially here on the Isle of  Wight.  There’s a long, twisting path that runs from our holiday site to the next bay, and every morning when the sun comes out I cannot help but follow it down to the sea.  As I walked along yesterday morning I thought up the poem below. When I return home next week and Sam gets the picture I took of the path off my phone, I’ll add it on here for you.  For now I’ve added a featured image of something similar.

What If?  by Stevie Turner

A long path meanders

Through leafless trees

Down to the sea.

A gentle breeze

Whispers to me.

I follow the path

In the early morning sun,

Will I be safe?

Will I need to run?

Whose mouth will break into an evil laugh –

When they see me walking

On that lonesome path?

I hear the gulls

As the sea draws near.

Just one old man and his dog

On the path had appeared.

It occurred to me

As I reached the beach,

What lesson this walk

To us all could teach.

If we worry, imagine,

Catastrophise and fret,

No pleasure from life

Will we ever hope to get.

I sat happily on the beach

And watched the waves ebb and flow

And walked back along the path

When it was time to go.

Nothing occurred.

No woe was me – I was not undone,

When enjoying my walk

In the early morning sun.

Help the Homeless with this £0.99 Poetry Anthology

Tags

#homelessness #poetry #anthology

***On February 15th this book gained an orange ‘Number 1’ badge on Amazon.com!!***

One of my poems, ‘In Limbo’, has been featured in Sarah Michelle Lynch’s brand new anthology ‘Elements’.  All proceeds from this book go towards helping the homeless, and so your 99pence could really make a difference!

We all had to write a poem based on the book cover picture below…

Please check it out if you’ve got 99 pence to spare.  There are many poets’ works on display, and the book already has 2 five star reviews.