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 

Thursday, 2 November 2017

Who Knows...



With each breath that I take

How deep?

How deep?



With each beat of my heart

How strong?


How strong?



With each promise I make

How true?


How true?



For as long as I live

How long?

How long?



Who knows.



Poem Only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard 

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

Holding...



I hold a sadness

That's unshifting

I hold a hurt

That lingers on

I hold a memory

Of our yesterdays

I hold a heartache

For times long gone


Copyright:  Lynn Gerrard



© Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Teddy & Me...



Teddy and me

Wanted beans for tea

'Cos beans for tea

We adore

If Teddy and me

Had had beans for tea

Mummy wouldn't have been

On the floor



Poem only ©  Copyright Lynn Gerrard 

Saturday, 28 October 2017

The Path Of Shadows...



Let us walk the path

Of shadows

Amidst the shapes

Of woe

Let us dare to tread

Where spirits dwell

And the living

Fear to go



Poem only ©  Copyright Lynn Gerrard 

Friday, 27 October 2017

Fading Stars...



You and I

Are but fading stars

Briefly flashing

Before we are

Tossed into

The great beyond

Not with a bang

But through a yawn





Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Thursday, 26 October 2017

Heaven & Hell...



Love

Born not of Heaven

But of Hell

For surely

Only the Devil himself

Could so cruelly appoint

That which would tear us apart

Where monsters fail




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Death-day...



Tick-Tock

Tick-Tock

Onward goes

Our Death-day clock



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard


Mirror...



Each day is but

A mirror of the last

A doleful tribute

To the misery

Of the past


© Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Bread, Buns an' Bacteria...



Despite my propensity to embrace all things gross and disturbing, I find the open bakery counter in supermarkets quite gut-churning. You know the ones I mean, the ones where the public are encouraged to pluck their own pastries from the exposed counter display before them.

And here's where my problem lies. Science tells us that every minute of the day we lose about 30,000 - 40,000 dead skin cells off the surface of our skin. That's almost 4 kilograms a year!

Consequently, wherever we go we're leaving a trail of shed skin behind us...and it has to land somewhere, doesn't it? Can you see where I'm going with this?

And yes, I know the same principle of plummeting-dead-flesh-flakes could be applied to other exposed foodstuffs in supermarkets and the like BUT most of that stuff, such as fruit and veg, can either be washed before use or is cleansed during the cooking process.

You can't do that with a baguette or a Danish pastry, can you? 

And then, of course, there's other bodily projectile residue to consider.

Take sneezes, for example.

One sneeze can ejaculate 40,000 snot droplets at a speed of 200 miles an hour over a distance of 8 metres carrying with it around 100,000 germs.

Yep...and if you happen to be passing the bakery counter at that very moment when your nose explodes, well, there we have another interesting ingredient to add to our expelled epidermis as it speedily journeys to rest upon the croissants and the floury bread rolls.

Oh, and let's not forget the dietary accompaniment a cough can provide when one's bronchial tubes are secreting a medley of mucous. Actually, I think I'll leave that one right there 'cos my knee-jerk reaction to all things spittoon is about to kick in with a series of dry heaves that'll send me over the edge!


I mean, ok, some places try to reduce the possibility of a flurry of flesh-flakes and other bodily detritus coating our buns an' stuff by placing them behind a perspex screen and by providing tongs but not all retail outlets do that.

Oh yes, most DO provide the tongs but few people use them, preferring instead to grab and fondle the food with their bare hands...and do we really want to contemplate where those hands might have been!!!

Only the other day I witnessed a middle-aged guy, at the kind of open counter I'm rambling on about, use his genitals as a fidget toy before applying the same hand to a batch of crusty cobs, fondling each with the same enquiring enthusiasm he had his nethers.

Nice.

And don't forget, every time we touch a something minute particles of that something accumulates beneath out fingernails so gawd only knows what kind of adventurous microorganisms could be transferring themselves from grubby mitts to the doughy landscape of our barms an' baps an' beyond!

Anyway, that's me finished...I just thought I'd share a bugbear of mine with you before leaving you with this thought...



 © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Wednesday, 25 October 2017

Treasured Footsteps...



Treasure well

The footsteps of yesterday

For they are your guide

To the memories

Of tomorrow



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

His Lips...



His lips told her

He loved her

His eyes told her

He lied

Her heart told him

Forever

Her tears told him

Goodbye



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Carousel...



The world is just

A carousel

Where baffled souls

Revolve until

Their ride is over

Then off they fly

Too old to live

Too young to die




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Stranger...




Stranger

As you pass me by

Know where you walk

So once walked I

Where I am now

You could be too

Wondering would a stranger

Stop and talk to you




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Tuesday, 24 October 2017

Dark Shadow...



I do not fear

The darkness in others

It is my own shadow

That brings me

To my knees



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Tuesday, 3 October 2017

Folly...



Do I wish

My demons gone?

Why no, Sir.

Surely it would be folly

To rid myself

Of that which feeds me.



Poem only © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Attics...



Attics full of mystery

And other people's history

Dark, dank corners

Hiding long dead shapes



Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Sunday, 20 August 2017

Let Us Prey...





The parish priest

Peddles through town

Preying on sinners

'Fore the sun goes down




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Saturday, 12 August 2017

Moments Spent...



Oh, the ache

Of moments spent

How quickly

The years unfold

And fade away 




Poem only  © Copyright Lynn Gerrard

Monday, 5 June 2017

Holiday Cat An' Me....



A little while ago, whilst holidaying on the idyllic island of Majorca, an unlikely friendship was formed between myself and a rather beautiful, calico feline after she sashayed into the grounds of the villa one day and instantly made herself at home.

Here are our own separate diary entries each documenting the tender evolution of our wonderful palship...
I have arrived....
prepare to adore me, human....

Day 1, Me:

Cat appeared from nowhere...very friendly...decided to give her treats. Have called her 'Holiday Cat' aka 'Meow-Meow'.

Day 1, Cat:

Another human arrived from 'Who gives a shit'...particularly malleable...decided to purr for her to acquire treats. Have called her 'Sucker' aka 'Sucker'.

Day 2, Me:

Wonderful to be greeted on terrace this morning by Meow-Meow...her affectionate rubbing around my legs brought even more joy to an already glorious day.

Day 2, Cat:

Wonderful to rid self of build-up of evening's shite by rubbing fur on legs of Sucker...brought much relief to an already itchy day.

Day 3, Me:

Relaxing here by the pool in the brilliant sunshine, I cannot help but gaze and ponder upon the graceful dexterity of Meow-Meow as, through a series of well-practiced licks, she scrupulously tends to her personal hygiene regimen. Nature truly is a wonderful thing.



Day 3, Cat:

Sprawled here in the blinding sunshine, I cannot help but wonder why Sucker persists to stare at me so intensely and at length as I lick my arse...voyeurism truly is a worrying thing.



Day 4, Me:

This morning, opened balcony door...Meow-Meow deposited mouse by feet...screamed...found courage to grab slice of ham to distract her...rescued mouse and placed in box to recover.

Day 4, Cat:

Gift well received...Sucker squealed with what can only be interpreted as delight...took offering away obviously to devour in private. Slice of ham reward for my generosity. Hm...more rodent gifts to follow methinks.


Day 5, Me:

Does this LOOK like
my happy face???
Arrived back from sightseeing jaunt later than expected...good to be welcomed by harmonious mewling of a very patient Meow-Meow endearingly unperturbed by the lateness of the evening meal I always prepare for her.

Day 5, Cat:

Where the f**k has she been all day and where the f**k is my food!

Day 6, Me:

Thunder and lightning raging across sky...despite my fear of it I cannot leave Meow-Meow to endure it outside alone...I shall sit with her, stroke her and bring her comfort.

Day 6, Cat:

Whole evenings ratting ruined by my having to babysit soft-shite, Sucker.


Mmm...sardines...whoopie f*****g  woo!!!

Day 7, Me:

My last day at the villa...dreading saying goodbye to Meow-Meow tomorrow...tonight will be her last treat of the tinned sardines she so adores.

Day 7, Cat:

For God's sake, when will Sucker and her sardine obsession sod off back home!...my breath reeks and my oily farts are knocking me sick!







Day 8, Me:

Never expected to get so attached to Meow-Meow...will miss her morning greetings...will miss the company of her gentle softness...will miss the soothing hum of her purring...will miss her...

Day 8, Cat:

Never expected to get so attached to Sucker...will miss her morning greetings...will miss the  company of her gentle strokings...will miss the soothing hum of her noises....will miss.......hold on...are those new people arriving???......Sucker?...Who the hell is Sucker???...


MEOW-MEOW looking after SUCKER during the storm

© Copyright Lynn Gerrard