Sweet

I got some nice things today.

Two mirrors and a small cupboard, which of course came from a charity shop.
But the best thing I received today was from a friend, a new padlock for my old bike. He not only bought it but delivered it in person.
But it isn't the 'item' which is of value it's his thoughtfulness.
Priceless.

Happiness v. Contentment

Happiness is two bars of Galaxy in a glass jar by the lamp
Contentment, eating half a bar in my pyjamas on the settee

Happiness is finding a 50p ceramic robin in charity shop
Contentment, finding a suitable place for it whilst the tea is brewing

Happiness is a good bouncy song on the radio
Contentment, listening to it whilst stepping into a blue sparkly dress

Happiness is having a optimistic life improving plan
Contentment, looking forward to simple things on a Thursday

Happiness is ooohing and aaahing over sexy underwear
Contentment, imagining the effect

Happiness is watching "Britain's Got Talent"
Contentment, looking forward to watching it whilst making a curry

Happiness is having fifty pounds
Contentment, having forty and not worrying

Happiness is being with like minded people
Contentment, accepting people with different minds

Happiness is roast beef
Contentment, spotted dick and custard

Happiness is a zingy spine shaking wake-up-you-bugger shower at 7
Contentment, lathering up in the afternoon

Happiness is birds, foxes and bumble bees
Contentment, Monty

Happiness is chatting to ordinary people
Contentment, talking to a Duchess

Happiness is writing a good heart felt poem
Contentment, blogging

Happy List

London come rain or shine
Chocolate
Buying secret gifts and hiding them in the cupboard in the sitting room
Having a very secret ten pound note in the tin by the fruit bowl
Having a five pound note in a blue pot next to my perfume
Toast and strawberry jam
Receiving good emails/parcels/kisses
Making humans feel better with my wisdom/humour/winks
Making Monty get on my shoulders
Naughtiness but only on Friday and that solely dependent on knees and Radio 4 output
Feeding pigeons in Do Not Feed Pigeons zone
Basques for dressing up only
Beer coated sausages when watching a horror film with mash
Having my photograph taken on a Monday
Christmas
Writing a good line of poetry
Chinese food in my pyjamas
Chicken curry in my socks
Feeling confident for longer than 24 hours
Hand feeding tuna to Monty on my knees
Having something to look forward to however simple
Making videos of me prancing about making a plank of myself
Steak, chips, tomato ketchup and bread and butter
Being saucy
Four Ports

A Tender Correspondence

I love letters.
Not emails, letters.
And as I'm an avid reader of letters of all kinds I couldn't help but be inspired to write some of my own. But unlike the published correspondence of the famous, these billets-doux are all fictitious
I'll be posting Bibi's reply later in the week and, depending on my Muse, will post Michael's response some time after.
How long this relationship lasts depends upon my Muse.
I don't need to describe Bibi and Michael's life, that will be made clear by the contents of their letters.
So here's the first instalment.


My Darling Bibi

Please don't delete until you've read it. Will you do that for me?

Your parting words to me won't leave me alone so I have to do something and the only thing I can do is this.

Anyway, here I stand or rather here I sit in my big echoing barn of a house, with its stupid masculine decor and empty rooms. It means nothing to me now, you always said a house is not a home unless there's love in it. Well my hi tech polished mega watt home is a loveless dump without you in it. Come back Bibi for Gods sake, alright I know I didn't listen sometimes but aren't all men guilty of that, of not listening?

But since I met you, I haven't been able to hear anything only you, all I hear is your voice in my head. I've been a bloody fool and gone and lost the one person who's come to mean more to me than anyone or anything, I can't begin to tell you what's going on in this old head of mine, you always said I got 'confused over the big things' and as usual you were right.But here's one thing I'm not confused about, my love, yes love Bibi, for you. Am I making myself clear? Because my syntax is rubbish unlike yours which is perfect, and I cant spell either. You are so much better than me at expressing things, all I can do is stick a few words together in the hope you change your mind and come back. I'm missing you already, God I hate that phrase, how longs it been, a week?
Seems like forever and forever is always long.
I don't know what to say except I'm in love with you and I'm scared to death.

What with all we've both been through wouldn't it make sense for us to keep what we've got, we've got something most people only dream about.I don't want to be happy without you, I can't be happy alone any more, sounds idiotic doesn't it? But it's true I can't see myself doing the things we did with anyone else,. they were our things, remember the champagne and beans night? I do.
My parting words to you last night were said because I was terrified alright.

I don't know what to do with you, or how to deal with my feelings, there I was a reasonably contented man, ok so I'm a bit set in my ways, but I was getting along alright at least I thought I was and then someone like you comes along.
What I'm trying to say baby is I love you but I don't know how to deal with it.

I love you Darling
Now you can delete.

Michael

All My Tomorrows....poem

Kiss me gently again
take my sweet mouth in yours
and I'll taste you in all my tomorrows

Hold me strongly again
knead my body again
and I'll feel you in all my tomorrows

Make me laugh again
so I enjoy life again
and I'll bless you in all my tomorrows

Love me again
As I love you now
and I'll save it for all my tomorrows.

Independence Day

Just before I settle down for the evening I must thank my friend, the Duchess of Michigan, for trawling through all my previous posts and commenting on nearly every single one. She's either bonkers in the nut or a woman with a penchant for the finer things in life. My money's on the latter.

This blonde babe has followed me from disaster to disaster, from happy days to confused days, from rage to joy and from helplessness to hope. And this camaraderie was born and has since flourished from our time together on a music website to this, my latest blogging incarnation. She has always commented, often making 'sensible' suggestions, her clear and concise remarks about food, men and kids were quite good too but most of all she's always made me laugh. Let me tell you about her. First of all she's an American.
Her sense of humour is naughty and grown up, her earthiness often has me rolling on the floor and coming over all shocked and delicate, because I'm English and not used to that sort of thing. She's generous too, her presents to me have made my day. She once sent one of my cats a scratching post because he was tearing up the hall wallpaper, she's a thoughtful lass too.

We have a lot in common the Duchess and I, for a start we both have royal blood gushing through our veins, mine is there from birth of course, hers was put in by me! I bestowed on her the title of Duchess way back in 2006/7 because I was a Queen and I decided I needed another Royal to keep me company on our music website. So she became a Duchess, her husband a Duke and her two boys little dukettes and her little girl a duchessett!
Anyway we both wear our crowns with pride.

The Duchess and I have both seen our jewels get a wee bit tarnished over the years what with one thing and another, but we've helped each get our sparkle back by continually being there for one another with the duster of humour and a huge handkerchief to mop up our tears. In other words we've been mates. I once wrote a poem about her and in it I called her a 'ballsy babe', and she still is. Because anyone that is willing to take risks in life deserves the best of everything. Good Luck Duchess. As for me I'm kind of at a crossroads too, the frightening signposts are there for me to gawp at and my nerves are getting the better of me but with my chum across the pond I think I'll survive.
So on that optimistic note I'll bid you a goodnight.
Happy Independence Day!

Night Time

Some night time thoughts in no particular order:

Andy Murray has been taught a lesson by Rafa, now limp off lad and leave the game to the big boys.


Forgive my wobbly writing, I'm riding a great big sick inducing roller coaster, my eyes are struggling to take in the blurred landscape as I ride high and wide, my head has given up trying to keep calm, has given up trying to make sense of any of it and my heart has just stopped.
But dear God how the sumptuous waves and dips give me the perfect sweetest ride.

Goodnight.

Poem

Simmering, you watch me,
coming to my boil
Rolling round you pull me,
in movements quick and bold
Blazing, you inflame me,
so effortlessly I take you in

Intensely then you grind me,
with your favoured rocking lilt
Slowing down, you take me,
to that great and saintly place
Roaring quietly just love me,
till the aubergine sky turns blue

Generously now you gave me,
light diamonds for my darkness
Silently, you saved me,
risking shouts, risking fall, risking all
Gloriously strong you held me
together from cracking self.

Clive Stiffjoint Part 2 (Audio)

I'm not a natural story teller, so this short story is a surprise to me.
Part one is here if you wish to look for it.
I'm working on part three.

Writing this has given me a tremendous amount of pleasure and I've taken quite a liking to Clive, I only hope he doesn't go and do something silly like fall in love with me. Because after all, I am not responsible for my characters actions or what they say. Those things are left in the capable hands of my Muse.
Inf act she is with me right now yelling at me to look into my heart and write. I can't do that I say and please will you leave me alone.
She's staring at me, willing and daring me to cry everything out, but I won't because no good ever really comes from allowing others to see the dreadful things which weigh us down.
I'll write more later...

My Soldiers Are With Me

Someone has asked me how I write my poems.
I can't control my episodes as I call them. Brief blazing patches of time when an almost anarchic creativity sets up camp inside of me. The arty soldiers dressed in cobalt blue and rose storm my otherwise sane buttresses releasing every colourful feeling in my body. Whilst at the same time keeping a vigilant eye on the copious blackness of the other place.
In other words I have an imagination.


Shocking New Love

Mr Pennington heard the first crack and dismissed it as hearing problems
After the second crack he stood stock-still silenced by the thunder of new love
His heart was being handled
set free
Something was squeezing it
just to see how much life was still there
And old blood flooded his face
and steeped in this good red blood
Lonely out of date Mr Pennington wondered 'what'll I do now?'
***********************************************************************

Happy

Up with Monty and the pigeons.
A cold quick breakfast
Hot fast thoughts.
Dressed in red in seconds
Whoosh! I'm Gone!
**********************

Wasted Life

Forgotten Mr Worthy aged 72
spent all day searching for happiness
A dusty diary and all was revealed
Days and days of a loveless life pencilled tidily and without drama
a 2/6 book of misery.
************************

Regrets

When I got lost yesterday
I found a sun lighting up my path
and on it were strewn fragments of past maps and plans
pebbles from untaken holidays
photographs I should have snapped
sex I wanted to have
laughs that should have deafened me
and
love that should have rocked me.
**************************************

Hope

My room with its pallid death drapes
hems me in
this Abaddon, this Gehenna, this hell
But through breaks in the curtains
and through the cracks in my splintered mind
I see light.
************

Prostitute

The legless old lady steeped in heady perfume
weighed down by heavy pearls
twists her mouth into fantastical shapes,
bringing down onto the velvet table her translucent head awash with love dreams.
Clenching knotted fingers she bangs and bangs and bangs till she can bang no more.
Her reddened knuckles standing out like splattered blood against the cool white of her pavement hands.
******

Lone Sparrow

And one lone sparrow isn't being deterred from his natural actions by the blanket of frost which covers the grass in my front garden
His tawny head swoops down
then shoots up
then swoops down again
as he pecks and digs and drills through the ice on his very own lot
his very own plot
within the slab of my snow clothed green

Then a flutter
a sound
so he stops
head darts from here to there
a shake of feathers
a re-adjustment
seconds to sense
then still again

A pale grey pigeon is comfortable on the wall
The sparrow hops and springs
spindly legs taking him to the mossy cloaked bottom of a broken gate post
then off he flies to another lot and another plot to wile his time away.

Zzzzzzzzzz

A few pre-Ovaltine thoughts.

Red

Red is my favourite colour
its life matches my own.
And to have red touching my skin
is to me
like
warm thick fingers on a good hot hand
spreading out to covet my soul.
*********************************************

For The Duchess

Your package to me
large
undisciplined and very you
Sucking on sweet Mr Ford
reminded me why I like you so bloody much
Here grab this you said
eat it you fainting English Rose
so I did.
******************************************************

For Caesar

The soft hard Swiss
rolls up and over his glorious mountains
going down he
consumes with his long stiff tongue for all his life
her sweetness.
*****************************************************

And finally for the Bed Bugs

Trawl and drag your silly legs
in and out my private areas
nestle and make yourself at home
I'll not be disturbing you tonight.

*****************************************************

Goodnight