A Pretty Kettle of Poetry

If you were me, what would you be? Would you be recounting?
Lying on the carpet with my box of scrap-metal matchbox cars,
counting blocks and abacus beads for counting
that never did me much good later on in bars.

Today, I thought to myself as I was happily driving along
how great life is and how thinking otherwise is, well, wrong.
The weather hadn’t made up its mind, a little sun, a little grey.
Just like when I’ve not been able to make up mine, with forecasts for the day.

So, back home and ranking favourite songs
while listening to the radio,
I’m scribbling down something as a mental note to not forget;
Try not to get wound up and try not to get low.
This is an out-of-the-blue diary entry (when keeping one does its bit).
If you’re not guilty of reading it, I shouldn’t be strung up for writing it.

My blog ‘A Pretty Kettle of Poetry’ with my illustrations still gets on other blogs and is always a pleasure to realise that my blog has its admirers.

Since 2019 on top 100 poetry blogs on https://blog.feedspot.com/poetry_blogs/

plus https://blogging.org/top-poetry-blogs/ and https://eztoolset.com/top-blogs/110-top-poetry-blogs-websites-to-follow-in-2020/

and a great mention – ‘The best poems served through this poetry blog will leave you amazed and awe-struck ‘ here on https://thebrandboy.com/wonderful-poetry-blog-names/

Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to look at and read any of my poems!

I’ve just published my latest collection ‘End of an Era II’ in the menu above with the last collection ‘That Magic Call?’.

None of the poems are new as I have been posting them since June when written. Quite spontaneously. With a few tweaks since though.

The reason for the title of this new collection is, I would imagine, blatently obvious.

It’s II (not because of Queen Elizabeth though that’s a good enough reason) but because I wrote a collection of the same name in 2006 which I have also added. Most of these poems never posted.

You won’t believe this
but it’s true.
It’s a short journey to bliss.
You can get it like new.

Give it a chance.
Live out your dreams.
It’s a short journey to bliss.
It’s all what it seems.

You’ve got what it takes.
It’s your thing.
It’s a short journey to bliss
when you’re a big deal darling.

What was I saying?
oh yeah that reminds me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue.
You’ve been great to see me!

I’ll get it in a minute.
No, don’t give me any clues! It’s easy!
I can’t believe I can’t remember
Whatever happened to thingy?

Ok I give up.
Oh yes. Of course. Silly me!
Yes, I know, it’s been quite a while.
Great being back! So, what was my fee?

Like listening to Moonlight Sonata.
Reflection without being distracted.
Looking at nothing reflected in a mirror.
Deep in thought without an idea enacted.

Darkness of the night.
Waking up before everyone.
Minutes buried to candlelight.
Lying in wait and fitting a silencer to a gun.

You’re a good egg, Lilibet
and we’ve grown up with you all our lives.
In an era not long gone
Lilibet you’re the one.

Black or white, rich or poor
Elizabethans all.
With your profile on all those coins and notes
who wouldn’t want to see you more?

On an island in the sea
and around the world spinning in space
newspapers today are drizzly soggy
or sun-drenched parched with your face.

Lucky us to have lived through your times.
Bit of a shock you’re mortal and just like us.
Our personal angels are winging thank you letters to you
while those that aren’t might mumble think gasp ‘Let them have fuss”.

Lamp posts are falling down
and we’re toasting you and your reign.
While not always understanding, we got you.
Us a little bit wayward,
but coming back to your ever-forwatd constancy again and again and again.

On Pleasure Pieland
islanders live life under a system called pie-in-the-sky.
Plumbers fit pipe dreams
and statistics on counting your blessings are always high.

Opticians sell rose-tinted glasses
to see good things over the horizon
and in every house, doors are fitted
so that when one closes, another one opens.

Every silver cloud has a golden lining
and everyone’s glass is always half-full.
Every adult has the job they want
and every pupil is the teacher’s pet in every school.

There’s love at first sight and love that lasts
and, for those more adventurous, true love in blasts.
Underdogs win and no-one feels like they’ve lost even when they lose.
Everyone walks around in everybody else’s shoes.

Pielanders are so happy they look pie-eyed.
They’re easy to recognise.
Doctors prescribe magic potions for free
and hospitals are only there to rest in cos nobody really dies.

look at that body
that is some body
but now gone
and nobody

blood red tears
stick like glue
two glass eyes
peep out of the blue

don’t care if
meant something to others
mum’s the word
there’ll be none of them closures

you’ve got bills to pay
and you won’t be able to
up to your giraffe in it
someone’s having a laugh
and here’s the graph

you can’t feed your kids
they’ll go without
back to scrooge’s surplus pop by half
someone’s having a laugh
and here’s the graph

you’re struggling
to make ends meet
the rope for your graft
someone’s having a laugh
and here’s the graph

you’ll rant and rave to no avail
you’ll get a pat on the head
scrimp and save for your epitaph
someone’s having a laugh
and here’s the graph