Wandering shoeless
I stroll through bushes
whilst looking for
things that sting
Taking up my big stick
I tap gently around
whilst yearning for
notes that sing
**************************
God is watching as the words fly
and as I skid
He throws, instead of plaudits,
black ice to crack my eyes
**************************
For Chris Breen
Stillness, amongst frenzied waves,
a broken voice
cries,
memories of love
about the girl from Kilburn
shoots me down
shuts my sorry mouth,
and true love clears our air
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Maudlin Murray
So bitter boy Murray is through to the quarter finals. And I don't care. His attitude on court is like that of a small boy who's always had his own way.
Gimme that ball or I'll tell my mum who's better than your mum anyway.
When the grim faced brat gets near to finishing off a match you can almost feel his anger at being challenged like this.
You rotten horrible pig why are you even bothering to come up against me?
His melodramatic aerobatics once over the winning line are entirely lacking in class, stardom or friendliness Throwing soggy wrist bands whilst twirling and twisting his hips around isn't an exciting thing to watch, unless the victor is smiling from ear to ear.
See this is what I can do and if you dare try and beat me I'll run to my mum screaming.
Murrays' tone of voice and his appalling lack of knowledge about what makes a sports star popular is driving me mad. OK he plays a good game. So what. Can you really imagine him walking onto centre court in a designer cardigan or wooing spectators with his on-court jests or even participating in a memorable interview. I for one loathe having the stroppy almost ill-mannered Scot representing Great Britain at tennis.
Tin Henman, Britain's previous great hope, was a posh boy who played a decent game but who had also had a charisma by-pass He is now a talking head on the BBC who for all his knowledge still bores me senseless. But he does smile occasionally. So points to Mr Henman. Murray however, never smiles. And that isn't good for either the spectators or himself. I think fans want to not only see a great player but want to be entertained aswell. And if entertaining isn't in your soul then at least have some class and balls. Murray has neither.
Tennis balls don't cut it. Jock.
His next match is tomorrow, I think, and I hope he comes out looking like he is proud to be there instead of a spoilt mummy's boy who's just had his lolly nicked.
Gimme that ball or I'll tell my mum who's better than your mum anyway.
When the grim faced brat gets near to finishing off a match you can almost feel his anger at being challenged like this.
You rotten horrible pig why are you even bothering to come up against me?
His melodramatic aerobatics once over the winning line are entirely lacking in class, stardom or friendliness Throwing soggy wrist bands whilst twirling and twisting his hips around isn't an exciting thing to watch, unless the victor is smiling from ear to ear.
See this is what I can do and if you dare try and beat me I'll run to my mum screaming.
Murrays' tone of voice and his appalling lack of knowledge about what makes a sports star popular is driving me mad. OK he plays a good game. So what. Can you really imagine him walking onto centre court in a designer cardigan or wooing spectators with his on-court jests or even participating in a memorable interview. I for one loathe having the stroppy almost ill-mannered Scot representing Great Britain at tennis.
Tin Henman, Britain's previous great hope, was a posh boy who played a decent game but who had also had a charisma by-pass He is now a talking head on the BBC who for all his knowledge still bores me senseless. But he does smile occasionally. So points to Mr Henman. Murray however, never smiles. And that isn't good for either the spectators or himself. I think fans want to not only see a great player but want to be entertained aswell. And if entertaining isn't in your soul then at least have some class and balls. Murray has neither.
Tennis balls don't cut it. Jock.
His next match is tomorrow, I think, and I hope he comes out looking like he is proud to be there instead of a spoilt mummy's boy who's just had his lolly nicked.
Sunday, 28 June 2009
From Nof to The Queen
Here is a poem written by a family member, the funny, charming and kindly Nof.
He spent time in his garden under the influence of a decent wine penning, what I consider to be,
a truly warm homage to me!
Thank you.
I've enjoyed the blog, about your days,
Your work, your food and your funny ways.
The football and tennis you watch on TV,
The jugs you buy to help charity.
So I sit in the garden with a cool glass of wine,
And I'm writing these words in the hope they will rhyme,
It's your birthday today, Mrs Horsehound it's true,
From your number one fan, Happy Birthday to you!!!
He spent time in his garden under the influence of a decent wine penning, what I consider to be,
a truly warm homage to me!
Thank you.
I've enjoyed the blog, about your days,
Your work, your food and your funny ways.
The football and tennis you watch on TV,
The jugs you buy to help charity.
So I sit in the garden with a cool glass of wine,
And I'm writing these words in the hope they will rhyme,
It's your birthday today, Mrs Horsehound it's true,
From your number one fan, Happy Birthday to you!!!
I'm A June Baby!
It's my BIRTHDAY today
with my PRESENTS I'll play
I feel very youthful
though my hair's kissed with GREY
Happy BIRTHDAY to me
I'm FIT and FRISKY
I've got lovely muffins
Want to join me for TEA?
Happy BIRTHDAY to me
And I've got a STIFF knee
but I have lots of BOYFRIENDS
Tee he he he he!
Saturday, 27 June 2009
Aye, The Wee Lad's Still There...
It's day 6 of Wimbledon and that stinker Murray is still there. This afternoon he's up against the Serb, Victor Troiki.
I heard a radio interview with some old tennis duffer who echoed Roger Federer's comments by stating that Murray could win Wimbledon..In the future.
Back to what I think, I think the Scottish ball basher with the immovable hang dog expression could get to this year's final but only on account of the spectacular absence of Rafa Nadal. If he, Murray, does walk out on to Centre Court next week for the highly likely meet with Roger Federer the new Wimbledon roof will explode. I remember when Tim Henman puffed his way to the semis, you'd have thought he'd won the damn thing already. So if Murray, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Charlton Heston, does get to stand the other side of the net from whoever, it would be a remarkable day in British tennis history, and my love of all things British would be sorely tested.
Could I really support and cheer for a foreigner against on of my 'own' or would I flash my legs in a twirling kilt every time he a nailed a game?
What do you think?
Friday, 26 June 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
