Eyes are the windows to the soul,
And for you, it’s true, I see the whole,
Wonderful, extraordinary person you are,
A satellite, a shooting star.
Your eyes show compassion and belief
They bring succour and relief,
They stretch the mind, they ease the soul,
They are full of mischief, they are droll,
They’re subtle, sensual, gentle, tender,
They have a certain jewel-like splendour,
They’re kind, forgiving, loving, true,
Through them it’s always a positive view,
Your eyes display your unique heart,
That always takes another’s part,
Through them, the world’s exciting, new,
But above all, your eyes are the essence of you,
And I confess that I’m a devotee,
Because when they scan my way, they just see me,
And there’s one thing that I’m sure of,
When they look at me, I feel real love…

I’m currently tackling what I’d call a minus,

‘Cause something quite chronic’s affected my sinus,

I sneezed with such force that my glass got knocked down,

And it emptied its contents on my eiderdown.

I don’t know about you, but I do love my bed,

But not so’s I want to feed it a nice glass of red!

My Chilean Shiraz was s’pposed to last me all week,

But now it’s adorning my duvet and sheet.

I’m in high dudgeon, a state of deep gloom,

A miasma of misery’s pervading my room,

Dear reader, take pity, I’m feeling quite lazy,

And go buy me a bottle of Sangiovese?!

Today sees a trip to the dentist,
To fill a recalcitrant tooth.
The prospect ahead, will fill me with dread,
– I’ll feel the need to rinse out with vermouth!
He X-rays every one of my gnashers,
To highlight decay underneath
Dictating dental opinions to each of his minions,
About the deplorable state of my teeth
In order to tackle my dental debacle,
That ensues from consuming ‘confections’,
I TRY to rejoice at the ‘pain-free’ choice,
Which involves num’rous gigantic injections!
“Just a scratch”, says the unintentional sadist,
Jabbing what resembles a spear into my gum,
I can’t feign pretense, my whole body goes tense,
As I wait for my mouth to go numb.
He’s painted the ceiling with sailing ships,
In the hope that I’m distracted below,
Won’t tighten my rectum, at the sight of his speculum,
And my confidence in him will grow.
Well, he must have another think coming,
I feel sick and begin to perspire,
I’ve a rash on my neck, from the bib on my ‘deck’,
Placed there for ‘debris’ by Sam Strawson Esq.
Forcing my mouth open a little bit wider
To give him space to more eas’ly move round,
Displaying his skills, with different drills,
He excavates an abscess that he has just found.
Now I’m supposed to remain cheerful and chatty,
Whilst he applies the glue, the paste, heat and light,
And then carbon papers, snippets or wafers,
To check on the state of my bite.
I grind my teeth with a gay abandon,
My oral ordeal’s almost done,
My clothes are all dripping, my halo is slipping,
And I’ve a seriously oversized tongue.
Then it’s over and I’m racing homeward,
In time for a nice cuppa tea,
But my jaw feels quite stiff and my face is skew whiff
And there is dribble all over me…

I wonder why it is, when I feel like hell,

That I simply never sleep at all well.

It’s as if my body, when it aches,

Fills my slumber with endless breaks,

I wriggle, I squiggle, I toss, I turn,

My bones all drag, my muscles burn,

My shoulder thumps, and so does my head,

No comfort is found in my lovely bed.

The mattress feels like a switchback ride,

Undulating beneath my sore backside,

The pillow’s lumpy, the sheets give me grief,

There’s simply no getting a touch of relief.

Every bit of me feels like it’s heading south,

And something furry has died in my mouth.

And yes, it may seem like I’m being a diva,

But I swear that I’m running some sort of a fever,

It feels like I’m tackling a nuclear warhead,

That exploded just under a pulsating forehead.

I need a soothing compress applied to my brow,

To make me feel better than I do right now,

And although it is, possibly, what you may think,

I’ve had nary a drop of the hard stuff to drink!

These flowers by my window, remind me of you

Not pink, not orange, not red, nor blue,

Just simple, elegant, cream-coloured blooms,

That spread fragrance through consecutive rooms,

Filling my head with you and me,

Of wine with dinner, scones for tea…

Of passions shared, of secrets told,

Of loves forgotten, trifling, old,

Of futures longed for, dreamed about,

Of abandoned defences, banished doubt.

These simple flowers, my sensual prompt,

Of what I long for, desire, want,

Not fame, not fortune; no grand design,

Just the feeling as your hand rests in mine.

It’s common knowledge to the Eskimo,
That there are all of 58 names for snow,
Because their world is full of it,
They feel the need to define each bit.
In my world there is only one,
Which somehow just takes all the fun,
Out of these beautiful, jewel-like crystals of ice,
That turn everything into shades of white,
Each one perfect, each one unique,
That give the world a dash of chic,
And turn the familiar into something unknown,
A children’s playground, an adult-free zone.
There is nothing like waking to that tell-tale glow,
Of a fall of miraculous, virgin snow.

I love to laugh
Till my muscles ache,
Till I almost weep,
Till I start to shake.
I love to titter,
To snort and guffaw,
Giggle, cackle,
It’s my ‘fatal flaw’.
For me, it’s like op’ning,
A brand new toy,
It’s such an expression
Of love, of joy.
The words we use,
Are syngeneic,
Are bubbly, frothy,
Onomatopoeic.
Kids will laugh
400 times a day,
Adults -15,
A poor effort – eh?
I make it my mission,
Fuelled by wine and caffeine,
To laugh far more often,
In 2013.

Silk,

Wood,

Feathers,

Horse,

Paddling,

Touch.

Child,

Lover,

Mountain,

River,

Books,

Sight.

Laughter,

Love words,

Lullaby,

Music,

Poetry,

Hearing.

Chocolate,

Ginger,

Lobster,

Marmite,

Veal,

Taste.

Bacon,

Bread,

Lavender,

Wood (again)

Lilies,

Smell.

All this,

Spirit.