If there is a vitamin For everything You are the vitamin, to make my heart sing But give me the one For the end of the song An extra strong one Now that you have gone Find me a cure For my heart which is sore Since you showed me the door Though of this I am sure You are my vitamins a b and c You are the one to heal me.
Peter Newman
In his posh pullover Uncle Pete, was as ever, neat. He always had a tale to tell Wearing that big grin, as well There with a huge bear hug Standing on the hallway rug A starchy shirt a smart new tie With outstretched arms and sparkling eyes. Caring about our every progress Celebrating in any small success Three generations of us Lived within his generous love He shared in times of joy for me And in the sadder times you see He never turned away. With a strength that never swayed.
I don’t want flowers.
I don't want roses, Or any other posies, I just want you. I don't want tulips, Just your two lips, On my two. I don't want daisies, Just you, all amazing, Six foot of you. No, I don't want any flowers, But lots more stolen hours, Just me and you.
Everything
If in any way I could press a switch And get my wish I would want other days Like the one just past I would want to make Certain moments last The moment I turned the corner And saw you there In the sun's glare The moment I got back And I was not alone The house was full of you So It was a home. If I could just stick me to you With a kind of magic glue To make more moments for us two. But you will set sail Leaving me here My courage will fail When you are not near. You are a poem A work of art to me You are smoky swirling colours On a priceless tapestry You are a mystery Impossible to unravel But essential to me You are everything all in one All that is hot All that is cold All that is young in me All that is old All that will capture me All that will set me free
Invisible ties
As soft as a cloud, as hard as a stone
Your heart is a place, that I call home
As quiet as a feather falling to the ground
As loud as my cry when you’re not around
My love will fill up all manner of space
All matter all molecule, all over the place
In every crevice
A river of gold
This fountain of solace
Will never run cold
So travel afar
And the further you roam
These invisible ties
will beckon you home.
The House of Plenty
Overflowing with life, love and wit. The mistress of that house had all of it. Bejewelled in a rhapsody of harmonious colour, Of warmth, good things, Beauty, It could not have been fuller. Tastes, textures, artefacts, frames, all combined. A luxurious love nest In West Bridgford, You could find. All of the details were there, Presented with such loving care. Each year we assembled To be treated.In the lap of luxury, we were greeted. My graceful June and twinkling Clive. Their love for each-other, So much alive. In sunny weather we would talk together, In a small paradise of garden chairs, Tasty buffet wares, Impressive horticultural affairs. Up to date with the latest gadgets, Organised to a 'T' A chat with everyone was guaranteed. With such attention to the small details June still made me feel big. My auntie. Interested in me.
The room where love lives.
How many times, when I close my eyes,
Do I go to that room, where love lives.
My uncle is there, sitting back in his chair,
A smile, a nod to my auntie Muriel,
To show such enjoyment at any tale I tell.
All eyes are on me, as I sip my tea,
As I tell of all of my small victories.
Anything I say is interesting, any explanation.
Met with attentive sighs and exclamations.
In years to come, with my children,
I re-live the same scene.
The attention multiplied by ten,
The love, by a thousand then.
Nurtured in such certainty,
My towering uncle so sure of me,
A thick warm blanket of adoration,
Served up with stuffed monkeys,
To each generation.
My auntie bustling to refill our plates,
My dad fretting as we are running late,
My mum soaking up the moment,
Knowing as she does that it isn’t permanent.
But to me it was always going to be there,
That room, that table, those chairs.
Everything in its place, everyone.
The building blocks of who I am.
I return there now by only these means.
When I close my eyes or in my dreams.
To behold my auntie, in all her beauty.
Only kindness, love and generosity,
As she serves me up another plate of self confidence,
Grown from many a family conference,
Conducted over afternoon tea.
Dreamcatcher
I awake and try to pin this memory down with a sigh.
As some would pin and mount, a butterfly.
Its bright wings stuck flat to the page,
At least, leaving a trace but destined to fade.
As memories flit in and out of my half awake mind,
At this part of my life where maturing,
I find, A growing awareness of time as it passes.
Nostalgic home movies come to me in flashes.
In private screenings only for me,
At the edge of my mind just half consciously,
The loved ones gone but not lost, Play out their scenes of the past.
What do they try to tell me, Waking me so from my sleep?
Only to catch each moment as it drips, Heavily, like syrup,
And savour its flavour on my lips.
Not to struggle, panting, Through the passing tides of time,
But to luxuriate in its warm waters, And peace, I will find.
Press pause, breathe, observe, rewind.
Slow down, open the window, Look out at the view below.
It’s all too beautiful to miss, For an important that, or an essential this.
My memories are crowding around me to say,
Live fully each instant of this new day.
50
Fifty
Feels like the start of something new
Feels pretty nifty
Fifty
It’s good to be here now with you
Fifty
Could go in for a little face lifty
Maybe before I’m fifty two
Fifty
Feels like I really grew
Fifty
It’s half a century of me and you
Fifty
Could be mutton dressed as lamb
But I’m happy as I am
Could be starting a decline
But I’m feeling rather fine
That could be cos of all the wine
Fifty years of laughs and tears
Fifty years of hopes and fears
Fifty years of strange ideas
Brought me up to now, to hear
And with that i will say cheers!
Sands of Time
Slow down the moment, breathe it in See the floating filaments of microscopic things. Taste on your lips the salt on the wind. Hear every sound, feel everything. And in the case you hit record, These fleeting memories can be stored. How many moments passed me by in a flash? And what was more important, than to make them last? But needy, greedy time absorbs you in your prime As a hungry hurricane, destroys the hourglass, grain by grain, Flattening the days in its wake. Yes, time cannot be faked. Only, to be present in each second, Is a force with which it will reckon.
