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Gratitude

Are we grateful for what we’ve been given right now
For the excellence that lies all about
Are we focussed on good and not upon bad
Are we willing to sing and to shout
About even the tiniest littlest thing
That brings fortune and favour our way
Be it the sun in the sky or the birds on the wing
Or the wonder that’s filling today

Be it a stranger’s kind word or a hug from a friend
A meal on the table at night
A song or a dance, a smile or a glance
Whatever brings in joy and delight
Be it a nudge in our thoughts that brings in relief
For even a second or less
To refresh and renew everything that we do
With gratitude and heart filled thankfulness

For to dwell on these things that may not seem big
Or even seem what we are owed
Is to lift up our spirit, to freshen our souls
With appreciation and love thus bestowed
And thus we go hence right into this day
With joy in our mind and not dread
With blessing abundant at the fore of our thoughts
With a glow and lighter step in our tread.

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Trebetherick

Ginz&Tonic

Where thrift and gorse grow ever sure
And slate cliff tumbles to the shore
Where Brea Hill rises from the bay
And Enodoc stays tucked away
Behind the dunes where Links expand
Ahead sea laps on soft pure sand
Whilst Daymer Lane seeks out the beach
And Greenaway’s within stone’s reach
Trebetherick, a hidden gem
Set there in Cornwall’s diadem

The Sea Spirit

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Pancake Legend

Ginz&Tonic

Well flippity flip and there it goes
So high up into the sky
A pancake that with all intent
Just simply wants to fly
Out of the pan with airborne means
It heads to higher heights
And why – good question!  Why indeed
Why toss with such great might?

Well it is told in myth of old
In Ireland to be true
That eldest girls did toss the cake
For marriage to ensue
So long as when she flipped it up
That pancakes landed flat
Back in the pan so perfectly
For wedlock tit for tat

So flippity flip and there is goes
So high into the sky
A pancake that with all intent
Just simply wants to fly
Out of the pan so steadfastly
Enticing ring and gown
For maids to catch men with a toss
Of pancakes round the town

English: A heap of pancakes in Sweden. My moth... English: A heap of pancakes in Sweden. My…

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Diamond in the Rough

Landscape littered with refuse
Where crow flies overhead
Where vermin scavenges for food
Where others dare not tread

Where stench of yesterday is thrown
Out on the garbage heap
Where foul odour lingers in the nose
Where rot and decay steeps

Yet midst this putrefaction
A diamond in the rough
Lies hidden, lost, abandoned
Unrefined; not buffed

But still a diamond all the same
A gem with so much more
Potential, worth, capacity
If just realised and restored

And likewise, there will be those days
Those months and maybe years
When the jewel within is tarnished by
Many wet and salty tears

Those times when circumstance may yield
Turbulence and unrest
But see those times as polishing
The inner latent best

So that the diamond in the rough
Will stand out undisguised
A precious stone shining so bright
Potential realised

Christmas Food Fight

“Move over,” said the sprout aloud
To the fare on Christmas Day
“For throughout the year I watch you all
In your very grand displays
And have to sit awaiting for
My turn to be the best
But wait I do with no complaint
For at least I can attest
To being the nation’s favourite
When it comes to this festivity
For like or hate me as they do
Few dare to exclude me!”

“Oh, get a life!” the Turkey groaned
“You silly Nobby green.
For it is as clear as clear can be
That I reign all supreme
At Christmas time for everyone
Knows on that day, I beat
Hands down beef, pork, lamb, goose and duck
As well as chicken meat!
For its not you but I’m the choice
At the nation’s Christmas feast
Yes, me, the Turkey, King of Meats,
Beats all other fowl and beast!”

“Now hang on,” a chestnut then piped in
“For though you may be king
Dear Turkey, and you may be picked
Dear Sprout, you small green thing!
I think you’ll find that it is me
Who most associate
With Christmas tidings every year
For I can celebrate
All roasty, come out of shell,
Appear as stuffing too
Be sweet or savoury as you know
So, beat the pair of you!”

And with that such a fight kicked off
Commotion in the larder store
As other foodstuffs pitched right in
Demanding they meant more
Yet hidden somewhere out of view
All quietly in his tin
Without vying to be the best
No arrogance or din
A little chap with starry hat
And sumptuous filled up case
Sat knowing in his heart that he,
Mince Pie, was worth first place!

For Christmas comes but once a year
And with it goodies abound
Chocolates, wine, sweets and savouries
In plenty are then found
Yet Mince Pie didn’t feel the need
To state his place for he
Knew Christmas was much more than that
And most importantly
He knew that it was more about
Each one playing his part
To bring about the festive spread
Be each a veg, nut meat or tart!

mince pies

With thanks to https://www.instagram.com/p/BcuFJ0MnuQ0/?taken-by=beckyp312 – all rights reserved to original photographer

Christmas Crisis

It’s understood this Christmas, that Santa has a prob!
For his pole is all a-melting and the sleigh won’t do its job
For without a solid runway, the reindeer will not be
Able to get the run they need to take off easily

Well it’s causing a commotion and it’s putting on a strain
For whilst making his red-nose brighter, Rudolf plugged into the mains
And used up precious fossil fuels in his attempts at vanity
Which all the other reindeer say, is a waste of energy

But in truth they are no better for it is a well-known fact
That Dasher, Dancer and Prancer were all in on the act
And Vixen, Comet and Cupid have been seen, so it is said,
Racing about in their fast cars and painting the town red

Whilst Donner and dear Blixem have sheltered from the storms
By chopping up the forests to keep themselves all warm
And the Elves too have been busy a-stoking up their fires
In their workshops as they make the toys for children to admire

So now Santa’s in a quandary, a-worrying ‘bout what he’ll do
Stomping around his grotto and getting in a stew
For the question that he’s pondering, is what if he can’t get
Out with the sleigh on Christmas night causing a huge upset!

“Oh deary me,” he falters, with heavy salty tears
That dribble down his rosy cheeks and dampen Christmas cheer
“For no-one ever listens when you tell them what will be”
He sighs so very loudly, now not feeling Christmassy!

For in fairness, he has no answers despite pulling on his beard
For it’s bad, as bad as it can get, much as he’d always feared
And so it seems this Christmas, the only hope a float
Is that Santa’s elves get busy and build him a magic boat!

When I Am Old

I’m not going to be that old lady
With nothing but gossip to while away hours
Planted in front of the TV soaps
Who plays bingo or drinks sherry
Wearing strings of pearls
With rouged cheekbones and painted nails

Instead my days will draw to a close
Like a vibrant painting
Where splashes of life
And streaks of colour
Will splatter in abstract abandon
As the ink dares to cross the lines

The twilight years where being me
Casts away the cloak of expectation
And dances in the meadow of inspiration
Shouting poetic expression across the plains
And where fresh air rouges my face
Whilst bubbling springs wash over my bare feet

And I will run through forests of books
The inscriptions of the wise
In a quest for eternal knowledge
Jumping into the deepest oceans
To swim against the tide
To bathe in enlightened waters

For the spirit of ageing
Will bloom like the autumn cherry
Fighting the tides of winter
In one final exclamation
Of everything that is life
And of everything that makes life great!