Saturday, 20 January 2018

The Short Of It...



They used to call us lunatics

But now that's not PC

And these days

You're underachieving

If you haven't got an OCD

I can't concentrate


On what my doctor says


'Cos apparently I've got ADHD


And my mind's just a mess


Of  unparallelled stress


Thanks to PTSD, so says he!


Weight's been a bit of a problem


Doc said that was all in my head


As he glared into my eyes


Said your BMI'S fine


Whilst I flushed at my HBP's strength!


And that's when it suddenly hit me


The cause of my problem was plain


After years of frustration


And personal damnation


Abbreviation


Was really to blame!


© Copyright Lynn Gerrard 

Tuesday, 9 January 2018

Ageless...



Young hands

Which once brushed

Against the smoothness

Of your youthful cheek

With such loving grace

Now flutter

With the turbulence

Of times ravages

Towards that same

Tender surface

To find, once there

That despite the

Ruthlessness of ageing

The flawless canvas

Of your gentle beauty

Remains unchanged



Poem only ©  Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Tuesday, 28 November 2017

Do Not Cry...

My baby boy Ralph 2008 - 2017

Forever loved.

Written on behalf of my Ralph, my Beautiful, loving, faithful companion and muse in life...dedicated to his family who miss him very, very much...

Do not cry for me

Your tears always made me sad

And you would not wish me sad

For now, I run in fields again

Free from pain, energy returned.

My eyes, no longer blind

Enjoy the magic of all the vibrant colours 

In this world of new adventures

A world where, one day, you and I

Will be together again

A world where, once more, you will feel

The excited brush of my wagging tail

Against your leg

A world where I will know again

The tinkle of your laughter

And the tender, playful pat

Of your hand upon my head

So, no...

Do not cry for me

For we have not lost the other

We are merely standing at opposite ends

Of the playing field

Waiting to be reunited

And when that day comes

We will run joyfully towards the other

To resume our loving days of play, mischief, and cuddles

Lots and lots of cuddles.


© Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Wednesday, 22 November 2017

My Grandmother's Clock...





My grandmother had

A very old clock

It would rest on a shelf

By her little piddle pot

And night and day

Ticked and tocked that clock

Until the hour came

When her own ticker stopped

And from the very moment

That she passed away

The old clock never

Ticked nor tocked again.



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sins Of Our Fathers...



The sins of our Fathers

Are not our own

We are but formed


From their flesh and bone


Their blame and shame


We did not earn


Through their dark deeds


We can but learn.


So carry no guilt


But harbour no plan

To do as they did

To their fellow man.


 © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 18 November 2017

Those Black Dog Days...



Those black dog days

Where no matter if it's bad things or glad things

The mind morphs everything into sad things

And the tears roll

Where the outside world's even scarier

And the hustle and bustle makes life feel blurrier

And out of control

Where self-confidence is lacking

And people's haggling, slagging and backstabbing

Is taking its toll

Where everyone bleats 'there, there'

But their telephone tone says 'don't care'

It's just a pre-recorded drone

Where no place feels like your safe place

And people's faces are ramraiding your airspace

And you've no concept of home

Where everything about you is imploding

And not trusting people is obstructing the offloading

And you're tired, empty and cold

Where you're smiling but you are lying

You wear and share it to stop people prying

So they'll leave you alone

Where simply breathing is leaving you breathless

And the one wish on your wish list reads death wish

And hopelessness is your chaperone

Those days

It's just one of those days

Those Black Dog Days




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard 

Wednesday, 15 November 2017

Come The Hour...



Come the hour

When this world sees fit

To remove my tired shape

From the confines

Of this mortal coil

May the universe allow

That I should journey onwards

To forever dwell

Amongst the words of masters

In that great library in the sky



Poem Only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard