All Because... - Janet

The plates moved.
The cups danced.
The saucers flew.
The bowls jumped.
The glasses rang.
The spoons rattled.
The vase rocked.
The doors banged.
The house shook.
The earth grumbled, all because
The plates moved.

Janet

My Comfort Zone - Janet

It’s safe here in my cocoon.
No reason to fear
the great unknown.
No need to drown
in the sea of doubt.
No locked door
to keep me out.
Won’t put my head
above the parapet.
There’s nothing here
I will forget.
No challenge for me
that I might fail.
Nothing to make me
weep or wail.
I’m safe in here
but, so alone.
Hidden away in
my comfort zone.

Janet

Jargon - Janet

When the ideas frisbee goes
sailing through the air.
Just like a large flip chart
a new language does appear.

Lets take this offline, drill down
and have facetime.
If we put some feelers out.
We can piggy back this time.

If it all goes Pete Tong.
Just pick the low hanging fruit.
We can have a blame storm,
come up with a scapegoat.

Lets cascade this to the coal face.
Touch base and then deep dive.
Come up with a ball park figure
and I think we can survive.

Before it finally hits the fan.
Have a head count freeze, I hear.
Start doing more hot desking.
No one will know who’s here.

It’ll be like grabbing water
and feel as if we're sinking.
But, we can move forward
with a little blue sky thinking.

Let’s put it on the back burner,
be upbeat, think outside the box.
Up skill and get more wiggle room.
Start wearing Simpsons socks.

So when the ideas frisbee
lands firmly on your lap.
Don’t look down and think this
is just a load of …….rubbish.

Just send it through the air and say
“Let us not pretend.
Just break through the glass ceiling
we need plain speaking in the end!"

Janet

As I Look Back - Janet

As I look back on days gone by.
No nimbus clouds spoilt
clear blue skies.
Raindrops fell at night, unseen,
to water earth and
keep gardens green.
The wind blew softly, just a breeze
warm and sultry
through the trees.
On the beach our skin was bronzed.
No overcoats
‘til autumn comes.
Days so long and I can dream
the golden taste
of rich ice cream.
The evening sun kept us warm
until the early
hours of dawn.
As I look back in time.
Who knows?
Perhaps these specs
are tinted rose.

Janet Le Pelley

When a Bloke Achieves a Significant Age - Janet

When a bloke achieves a significant age
and life is a battle, he needs to wage.
Recall when he was the great man about town.
This grumpy old geyser with the persistent frown.
For he is one of life's misunderstood.
Can't do now,what before, he could.
He's just an old chap hanging on by a thread.
Living for the time when he gets his own shed.

This shed won't be flash but, his alone
A place he can hide and hiss and moan.
A shiny brass lock with just one key.
His haven, his place, his sanctuary.
And when they knock upon the door.
He will be safe and their calls ignore.
He'll sit in his den in an old armchair.
Pretending he doesn't have a care.

He will hide away with his favourite stuff
They will not see it and cannot touch.
Perhaps a telly and a bottle of beer.
King of his castle, he'll have no fear.
A remote control and his favourite TV.
No soaps, or bake offs and sewing bees.
A place for just this chap alone
No wife, no family, or telephone.

It won't be a palace that is for sure.
Just a place to hide with his own front door.
No one will enter his secret lair,he's the
Head of the Pride they would not dare.
On the mysteries of life he will reflect.
He has a den, he will command respect
from all the old mates, who don't have a hide.
World weary and ageing not a scrap of pride.

But, you have a shed, and it's full to the brim.
With chisels and bikes and empty paint tins.
This could be the palace the place of your dreams.
If a skip could be ordered and your wife allowed in.
Oh yes, she would clear it out in a trice.
But you risk she would turn it to her sort of... nice.
'Til then your a chap hanging on by a thread.
Living for the time when you get your own shed!

Janet

The Hunter - Janet

Watching far up in the sky.
Guarding nest in tree top high.
Talons sharp and strong of beak.
Feathers long, shine black and sleek.
Waiting 'til the time is right
to dismount in seamless flight.
Swoops on unsuspecting prey.
Spirits weaker souls away
to the nest on tree top high.
Where progeny insistent cry.
'Til close of day from rising sun.
Speed of flight cheats farmer's gun.
Waiting, watching, prepares to fly.
Offspring make persistent cries.
His call rings out to all below.
Hear my voice, for I am Crow.

Janet

Why Did The Flowers Die? - Janet

She gazed upon the clothing rail.
Drawn into the winter sale
of garments, left upon the rack.
There her mind was transported back.
Liberating Sixties, saw mixing truth
with bravado of eternal youth.
The Beatles, Stones, and Woodstock too.
Music that changed her point of view.
Peace and love, flowers in her hair.
Her world had changed beyond compare.
So, when did she put on sensible shoes
and serviceable clothes in sombre hues?
Why did the flowers die in her hair,
Lines cover a complexion once so fair?
How could she let her spirit hide?
Let responsibilities make her decide
to cast away the Sixties thing.
Make her heart forget to sing.
Age had hidden that vital spark
and kept her real self in the dark.
With this dress of psychedelic hue
she knew what she had to do.
Her silver hair would look so fine
dressed with a pink and purple line.
Platform heels again she'd buy.
Sensible shoes she could untie.
Add a bit of Sixties bling to
release her heart and let it sing.
She'd allow her mind to go wild,
and unleash that hidden Sixties child.
Vowing no longer to let time drag, she
crammed the last inch of youth into her bag.

Janet
(Last line by Francesca).

A Place of Pride - Janet

Behind the half price decs they hide.
Waiting to take a place of pride
on tinselled shelves, where snowy chocs
and golden reindeer in glittered box. Are
left unsold, since festive excess
by those now needing larger dress.

January brings the Hot Cross Bun
and chocolate eggs promise Easter fun.
With threats of hell and damnation from
the post-Christmas diet nation.
Still, slowly moving to the fore and
stacked up high beside the door.

The Easter Chick and Golden Bunny
little chocolate lots of money.
Wait till all resolve is weak and
diet days have become so bleak.
Celery, grape and low fat sticks, now
someone needs the chocolate fix.

No more from view they need to hide.
At the front of the shelf they stand with pride.
Egg hunts and the Easter Bunny.
Shopkeepers making too much money.
Stretch until the ice creams come, with
chocolate melting in Summer sun.

Then festive decs on shelves appear.
Must haves for December cheer.
Golden reindeer snowy chocs.
All encased in glittered box.
While chocolate eggs prepare to hide
'Til they can take a place of pride...

Janet

To Rhyme Or Not To Rhyme - Janet

Internal rhyme in poetry demands elements of symmetry.
What's in the middle does depend on what is written at the end.
Rhyme or not, the poet's choice, if to give their poem voice.
Important though is to recall, else into the trap will fall,
not to contrive is a must or the story will be lost.
Put pen to paper and then write no matter at what time the night.
Be not afraid dismiss the fear then let the world your message hear.

Janet

The Food Diary - Janet

Let's go down to McDonald's.
Get a breakfast takeaway.
It's got tomato in it.
So, that's one of my five a day.

For a snack, maybe something light
A sausage roll or Cornish pasty.
I'll add a bit of salad
then the calories won't be nasty.

For lunch I fancy battered fish
with a bag of golden chips.
If we eat them standing up, they
won't end up on our hips.

Perhaps a pizza would be good.
Deep pan and extra cheesy.
Though when I take a great big bite
my chin gets really greasy.

I'm sure afternoon tea will be the thing.
Two scones and clotted cream.
Topped with a dollop of fruity jam.
Part of my health regime.

For dinner we'll have an Indian curry and
Peshwari naan, would be nice.
To make it extra healthy
We'll have unsalted basmati rice.

So, before we head off to bed.
Hot chocolate to help us sleep.
As we've been really good today
we'll have two biscuits as a treat!

Janet

No Ordinary Day - Janet

This was no ordinary day
when clear blue sky was turned to grey.
As heaven prepared its gift for man
on this saturated land.
Rivers rose ‘til they could take no more,
burst green banks and spilled their store.
For this, no Disney April shower
delighting Bambi’s fluorescent flowers.
No place of beauty here to see,
just a grim reality, that
green and pleasant land was lost
as in grey water it was washed.
Nimbus clouds relentless poured
unwelcome gifts through their front door.
Then swept into their homes unsought
careless of the chaos brought.
While rain fell incessant down.
Helpless Man watched his home drown.

Janet

It's Time To Clear Out The Attic - Janet

It's time to clear out the attic.
So much clutter's been hidden away.
Held just in case it was needed
kept safe for another day.
Take a deep breath and imagine
a neat and well ordered place.
Not a scrambled array of memories
with nothing in the right place.
A cobwebbed corner of photographs
of faces whose lights are now stars.
I'll look at them now and again
and send them a kiss from afar.
There's a box of half finished projects
that were good thoughts at the time.
Better let go and discard them
so new ideas come to mind.
The suitcase that stands in the centre
hastily packed, filled with fears.
Open the lock and release them
throw away all the bad years.
There's room for the things I will keep now.
The memories too precious to go.
I'll keep them safe and protect them
with love and warmth they will glow.
So, all is straight and in order.
Only the best left behind.
Now I can lie here contented
clear in the attic of my mind.

Janet

You Shouldn’t Have… - Janet

Oh you really shouldn’t .
you are just too kind.
I don’t know how you knew
or where this gift you’d find.
It’s just what I always wanted.
A kilt like Auntie Gert
and these yellow wellies
are just like Uncle Bert’s.
How did you know I needed
a Disney pink toothbrush
and a matching mug?
It really is too much.
I know, I used to watch Bambi
so a jumper you have made,
and bought me flashing antlers.
I’m like a fashion parade.j
What’s that Gran? You bought this on
the charity blue cross day and
you had to queue for hours
I don’t know what to say.
This jacket is quite lovely
with shades of brown and grey.
Oh, and there’s something in the pocket.
It is my lucky day.
It’s a hard boiled sweet
with just a bit of fluff.
I think I’ll save it for later
as I’ve eaten so much stuff.
Oh Auntie Jean you shouldn’t,
to my eye you bring a tear.
I’m sure I’ve seen this before
Ah yes, I gave it to you last year.
So let’s just raise a glass
and everyone stand tall.
Give thanks for the Queen and Ebay.
Happy Christmas to one and all.

Janet

Two Minutes to Remember - Janet

Heads held high in single file
they walk with dignity.
Flanders poppies worn with pride
a sign that they are free.
A call to stand with heads bent low.
A silence through the land.
As each one stops and ponders
on wars in far off lands.
Two minutes to remember.
Two minutes to recall.
The lives and loves that had been lost
when they fought and gave their all.
Two minutes for a memory.
Two minutes to show our debt.
Two minutes to make a solemn vow.
That we will not forget.

Janet

You Left The Party Too Soon - Janet

You left the party too soon you know
You left the party too soon.
How I wish you had stayed
There were games to be played.
But, you left the party too soon.

Still the music played on
Even though you had gone.
There were songs to be sung
And bells to be rung.
Oh,you left the party too soon.

The Orchestra struck one more score
For dancers to glide across the floor.
We had, forever,lost our chance
To take part in one more dance.
Because you left the party to soon.

But life had called time, and
The last hour had chimed.
Your eyes slowly closed
When your spirit rose.
Still, you left the party too soon.

Janet

When Milk Was Milk - Janet

I remember well in days gone by
when Guernsey cream smothered apple pie.
Cakes ballooned with custard thick
and filled our palates with a taste so rich.
Before cholesterol reared its ugly head
now zero fat yoghurt we eat instead.
The taste it does not recreate
but leaves us in a virtuous state.
Milk was whole and all we knew
and lent the tea an orange hue.
Now it’s red and blue and green,
calorie counted and squeaky clean.
Then, butter was golden and thickly spread
on great slabs of pure white bread.
A meagre scrape of low calorie, now
adorns a cracker for my tea.
Served with a stick of celery
a zero fat healthy treat for me.
It doesn’t seem so long ago
that all we ever had to know,
was, butter was gold and tasted right
and milk was milk and coloured white.

Janet