I Wrote A Line

I wrote a line

A warning of the dangers of Creative Writing from
the man in black (....no not Alex)

Happy New Year everyone

I keep my pencil lead sharp and very fine
I keep my notebook open all the time
One night I sat and stared from six till nine
In all that time, I wrote a line

This bloody writing takes up all my time
The words go spinning round inside my mind
My brain is always searching for a rhyme
Because one time, I wrote a line.

I’ve got a real bad case of writer's block
I feel I'm always up against the clock
If I come up with something I'm in shock
Last night was fine, I wrote a line

Perhaps my brain's gone rusty over time
I tried some WD40 mixed with wine
And tumbling keep the words now just out fine
Many's the time, I wrote a line

Now I just sit here rocking all the time
I wear the straightest jacket they could find
And now my mouth and brain just won't align
They won't align, I wrote a line.

Coffee

From the highlands of Ethiopia,
beans are roasted to total perfection.
As though created in Utopia,
made through the process of fermentation.
Unwind with a cup of Cappuccino.
Arrives frothy, foamy, full of flavour.
Relaxing with an Americano.
Steaming, smooth as silk, a drink to savour.
Ristretto, Expresso, Mocha, Latte,
hand crafted coffee with a unique blend.
From Italy, France or local café,
choose to drink alone or with any friend.

Mellow, intense, rich coffee for me
Though I’d give it all up for a cup of tea.

Winter Song

The time will come for everyone of us to say goodbye to all
We’ll meet again upon that distant shore
Where pain and misery will be
Just memories of what used to be
And happiness will reign for ever more

But it will not be as it should be
If I don’t have you standing next to me
Your love is all that I desire
It’s all I need, all I require
To make this happy day of life complete
To make this happy day of life complete

And as we come to the year’s end
With brothers, sisters, foes and friends
Both by our side and scattered round the Earth
The memories that we hold so dear
Of precious ones both far and near
The future starts now with our love’s rebirth

But it will not be as it should be
If I don’t have you standing next to me
Your love is all that I desire
It’s all I need, all I require
To make this happy day of life complete
To make this happy day of life complete

And as we gather round the fire
The flames of hope reach ever higher
All come and join beside us in the feast
Holding hands and in the calm
Sharing in this safe and warm
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace
I wish you all Love, Happiness and Peace

The Turkey

Late one night in late December, just how late I can't remember
Curled up by the glowing embers, watching Bond with Roger Moore.
Thought I heard a kind of glabbling, then again a blobbling, blabbling,
Glubbling, plobbling, blubbling, globbling just outside my kitchen door.
"Carol singers, hmph" I muttered, "glabbling at my kitchen door.
Let's get back to Roger Moore."

As the glabbling grew stronger, I could take this crap no longer,
Dashing from my cosy lounge I hurled aside the kitchen door.
In the gloomy, misty, murky blackness I perceived a turkey
Perched upon a garden gnome and staring at my kitchen door.
"Tell me what on earth they call you Mr. Turkey I implore."
Quoth the Turkey "Neville Moore"

"Thought I heard my uncle Roger, maybe you could use a lodger,
I don't really mean to badger, I could kip down on the floor"
So I answered, "Tell me Neville, Are you really on the level?
Not a prophet from the devil?, just a bird and nothing more?"
Neville answered " I’m a turkey, nothing less and nothing more!
And besides, my feet are sore.”

“'Tis with fear and great alarm, that I have fled the turkey farm
Sensed a great impending harm; couldn’t linger any more.
They’ve bought themselves a cockatoo; We were at risk from Asian ‘flu
So my friend I’ve come to you, glabbling at your kitchen door.”
Thus spake Neville at my door. All the while my mind’s eye saw
Steaming thick brown gravy pour.

Pondering my good fortune, I told him I would find some room,
"I can put you up at least until December twenty four"
I began to contemplate, the means to help him to his fate
Perhaps the axe or strangulation, but it shook me to the core.
Haunted by the thought of Neville dead upon my kitchen floor
All around me blood and gore.

Bizarrely I grew to love him, couldn't shove him in the oven
I chastise him if he glabbles and he wakes me if I snore.
Now we're like birds of a feather, watching Bond movies together,
And you'll find we hardly ever mention Christmas any more.
Now I crave dead meat no longer, I've become a vegan bore.
Me and Nev for ever more.

© Dave Carr (apologies to E. A. Poe)

I May Be Grumpy But I Believe I Have A Point

The problem with Christmas festivities
Is that folk drift into activities
Neglect ‘babe in manger,
Have sex with a stranger!’
And other, still baser proclivities

People, who once had more sense
Spend hundreds of pounds just like pence
Where once there was prudence
There’s insane insouciance
And neglect for the reckoning hence

The respectable, who’d normally cringe
At thought of a boozy binge
Of a sudden indulge
Till their wrecked livers bulge
And their mental state loses its hinge

The thing that really amazes
When you think of Earth’s climatic phases
Little lights are festooned
By reckless baboons
While the planet can go to blazes

But the most obscene thing of all
That makes the festivities pall
Is seeing folk eat
Till they can’t see their feet
While one billion people will go to bed tonight starving

Chateau D'Yquem

I’ve been around, I’ve played the field.
No comfortable monogamy for me;
Variety’s the thing.
I have my favourites of course.
The ones I return to time and again – satisfaction guaranteed.
I’ve learnt the pillow talk,
I know what patter brings them to my table.
The duds I forget, the gems stay with me forever
Like the first magical encounter
With that seductive little number from Lebanon.
As dark as Homer’s sea and rich with silky tannins.
Then there were those New World beauties,
Young, brash, yet gloriously fragrant.
But my old man’s lust would not be sated
Till I had tasted the queen of Sauternes,
Chateau D’Yquem – even the name enchants.
Since I was a young man I have yearned for her,
To explore every intimate nuance of her form and structure.
An exotic golden legend, lovelier with every year that passes;
Rotting fruit conjured into the drink of angels.
A friend claimed he had her once – a chance encounter.
An explosion of flavours, he said,
Layer on layer, intense, lingering on the tongue forever.
But I didn’t believe him, fate couldn’t be that cruel.
And then she smiled on me.
An orgy of coruscating vinous delights.
You should have seen me work the tables;
The time honoured minuet of sniffing and sipping and spitting;
From Rhone to Pommerol to Nappa Valley.
But all the time from the far side of the room she beckoned me
That peerless temptress - a magnum of honeyed gold.
But the teasing and the flirting and had to stop.
That consummation so devoutly wished for, was at hand;
I closed my eyes and prepared to swept away
By that glorious maelstrom of sensual pleasure.
And I waited …and I waited… in vain.
No bells, no whistles, no moving earth.
It was OK. Quite nice really. But that was it.
Embarrassed, I made my excuses and slid out of the door.
Perhaps the chemistry between us simply didn’t work,
Perhaps I was loosing my touch,
Or was it simply that the time for cocoa and monogamy had arrived.

Bridesmaid Video

Pause button on my bridesmaid daughter,
Unfocused blur of frills and curls,
Licking the butter off a roll.

The happy couple hide behind the cake,
Grateful for this parade
And the kindness of a camera,

That will not catch
The twitching glance,
Of approaching disappointment.

Soon the icing yellows and goes hard,
Photos curl and gather dust,
In the bottom drawer of boredom.

Outfits never worth the struggle,
Now the dress up clothes of children,
Desperate to pretend.

My mother's grey grin hovers,
Always on the edge of tears,
While my father's face balloons with food.

Faded curtains form a setting,
To the yellow dress and smile
I never wore again.

Before I nudge fast forward
I stoop to kiss the screen,
My warm lips set the seal,
Upon this frozen frame.