Sun on our cold bodies made them sing

In the winter, comes a day of spring
The  wind brings softness to the upturned face
And warmth to  once cold bodies seems to cling

When will be the day the  first bird   sings
And hawthorn hedges fill with  sweet white lace?
In the winter, comes a day of spring

A little heat is welcome ,promising
That winter darkness soon will lose   first place
And warmth to  once cold bodies, sunshine brings

We struggle on like donkeys stumbling
With heavy burdens and no hint of grace
In the winter, comes a day of spring

So we lift our eyes, allow wide opening
And in the lines of hills, our love is traced
Giving hope  to  our cold hearts and skins

We take our  time and feel no need for haste
And so create an opening for grace
In the winter, came a day of spring
And  sun on  our cold bodies made them sing

 

Stan,Emile and the bath

    • Stan was leaning over, cleaning the new bath.When the doorbell rang,he rushed downstairs and opened the double front door.
      “Will you take this parcel in for the lady next door?” The postman asked wearily.
      “Oh,fine Stan stuttered.He was trying to avoid Annie but here she was,coming down the road of superior semi detached houses suitable for ex-headmasters ,small businessmen,econometricians,surgeons,pie salesmen and theologians.

      She was wearing perfume, and green sandals from TK Maxx,light khaki tencel cropped combat trousers with a purple silky over-blouse, not to mention her matching raspberry and cream underwear .Round her neck hung a miniature grandfather clock on a solid gold chain,and she had three imitation gold and silver watches on each of her three wrists making a total of 333 watches according to Carnap’s theory of logic and Russell’s terrible handwriting.

      Stanley didn’t know that she had a mobile phone stuffed into her bra—one advantage for the larger sized woman.In fact she had 4 down there in her raspberry coloured glamour bra,as she had a phobia about their batteries running down all at once
      The more she had the lower the probability of her being without a phone whilst out and about the town and countryside.
      So she reasoned in her womanly way. J
      ust then one phone rang.She rummaged around to the consternation and turmoil-uation of Stanley and the postman.She plucked out a pale blue phone.
      “Hi,it’s Annie” she murmured.
      “Hi Annie it’s Dave the paramedic with carpentry skills. You’ve not rung 999 lately so we were wondering if all was well!”
      “Oh,I’m terribly sorry.I’ll try to phone later on.Thanks,Petal.
      That was Dave,our ex-transvestite converted paramedic”,she informed the men.The postman galloped off on his donkey, his bags full of undelivered males.
      It’s a tough but interesting life in Knittingham. Would you like a male delivery?Contact Parcel Force without delay.
      Annie went into Stan’s house and demanded a cup of coffee.
      “Won’t it make you put weight on” Stan quipped ironically.
      “Do you think I’m too plump?” she responded anxiously..
      “Too plump for what?” he quipped amiably.
      “To attract men,of course!”
      “No,my angel,you are just perfect”he quacked definitively.”Nor are you an angel,strictly speaking,as I have good reason to know.Thank you,my beloved for love rendered so generously .”
      “Oh,my goodness I must get home to render the fat from the beef and to make some gooseberry jam.”
      Stanley looked uneasy.
      “I wonder why babies are left under gooseberry bushes?
      The thorns are so big it’s quite dangerous getting them out,or so Mary told me when Lyra was born. She was covered in scratches and wouldn’t come near me for months.”
      “Why don’t you come upstairs to look at our new purple bathroom suite.Since the Royal Wedding it’s the in colour.The gold taps were expensive but they do go well.”
      “My God,let me out.” she bawled,”It reminds me of the Vatican and that’s no place for a lady”,
      “Not even a gay lady?” Stan muttered parsimoniously, as he licked her eyelashes gently.
      “Stop that.I’ve got my Yves St Laurent mascara on.”
      “I prefer the taste of the Chanel,”he disclosed privately in an internal secret memo.[available on 50 years]
      “Why not lick my neck instead?” she enquired curiously as she tripped over Emile the cat, who had slipped into the bathroom as usual to see what they were up to,you know what I mean, you catch my drift?
      She fell floppily into the bath and banged her head on the taps.
      “Oh,gosh,better ring 999” Stan said to Emile.
      “Have you got your catphone warehouse mobile on you?”
      “Yes ,it’s in my y-fronts”, the cat amiably miaowed.
      “Hi Dave,this is Emile.Can you come quick.Annie is unconscious and what is worse,she has scratched the new bath.”
      In fact it was Emile who had scratched the bath that morning but since Stan had not noticed he hoped to, callously, pass the blame onto poor Annie.
      How cruel can a cat be? Ask any mouse! Still in the end God made all of us and what a terrifying and beautiful world it is.
      And of so say all of us

At Whitby

I wish I were at Whitby by your side
From the Abbey Steps we saw the whole
The sound of gulls aswirling round our minds

The atmosphere of Yorkshire blunt and kind
Salty air,the North Sea,winds that groan
I wish I were at Whitby by your side

See the children taking donkey rides
The fishermen look anxious , happy, worn,
The sound of gulls is swirling round my mind

From Saltburn,Staithes to Bempton bold cliffs rise
Then Bridlingon where Hockney was a boy
I wish I were at any by your side

The two weeks break seemed long when we arrived
Now all my past seems like an old map torn
The sound of gulls is calling you to mind

To be in Whitby is to be alone
The pie shop’s open yet I feel forlorn
I wish we were at Whitby side by side
The sun and air, I dream into your mind