The lovely Marian, who is partly responsible for running this marvellous nursing centre, challenged me to write a poem about this…so here it is!

I am, at present, in a nursing home

Quite by choice, you understand,

I’m doing physio, on my own

Feeling better, feeling grand!

And I have learned a great new word…

That makes one gasp with great surprise,

The reverse trendelenburg!*

A name you’d link with World War spies….

But it’s a term used to describe

A position, as if in a chair,

The only problem is that I’m

Six feet up, yes, in the air!

This brings with it certain dread.

And carers have me bang to rights,

‘Cos this manoeuvre’s in a bed…

And I simply have no head for heights!

(*Huzzah! I didn’t even think I’d find a half rhyme for that!)

Download an App from the iTunes store

And it seems your bed frame is so much more..

It’s got wi-fi and bluetooth – that missing link –

So Apple products can effortlessly synch…

iPhone, iPad, iPod Touch,

All double as remotes, as such…

Turn on a fan, from the comfort of bed…

Or switch on a light, to get your book read…

Dim music for a romantic mood…

Oh, let’s not go there…it might get rude.

Fancy something relaxing, something more chilled?

A 15 speed massage is currently billed

As a must for your welfare, good for your poise.

• the Whisper Quiet Motor ensures there’s no noise.

Billed as “Wall Hugger”, it stands flush to the wall

From there, your desire’s at your beck and call…

If lying flat on your back is passée and boring,

Raise the bed head six inches to stop you from snoring…

Want to feel weightless? Free of that stitch?

Zero Gravity’s applied at the flick of a switch!

Tremendous for endless, remorseless pain,

Collapse into bed over and over again.

You can even opt for a split frame design

So I lie flat, you’re at a gentle incline…

King-size, Queen-size, even a twin,

Begone insomnia, let dreamtime begin…

So that’s my poem, and here comes the crux

What do I get for plugging the Reverie Deluxe?!

I asked someone I admire and respect enormously what she thought I should write a poem about, this was her excellent suggestion. Just why do we lable people?

Why’s so much in this world so fundamental?
When did we get so damned judgmental?
Bullying on Facebook, blocking on Twitter,
At what time in hist’ry did we – er
Not think it rough?

We read a text message and immediately find
We reach a conclusion a long way off kind.
Open a paper and everything’s labels,
Isn’t it time to turn the tables?
And say, “Enough!”

She’s not a slapper, she’s not a slut,
No party pooper, she’s a good time girl – but
She might be a daughter or even a mother,
Someone’s partner, someone’s lover,
All good ‘labels’, off the cuff…

There is one shop that I simply find it impossible to pass by…. it’s an Aladdin’s den, I just cannot resist it. It’s my Abercrombie & Fitch, my Christian Dior, my Aston Martin ….. oh, you get the picture… Suffice it to say, it’s magnificent….

Jewel-like items in the window,

Toys for every ‘puter geek,

Gadgets, gizmos, neat contraptions,

Just enough to snare the weak.

Talk on Face Time to a client,

Who’s working out in Timbuktu,

Marvel, as you hold your phone up,

That she’s staring back at you.

Test the latest sexy puties,

Each a feast for greedy eyes,

Try out all the plug-ins, add-ons,

Corroborate! Accessorize!

Tablets, minis, maxis, smart phones,

Cases make your mind just boggle,

Adaptors, hard drives, games for experts,

Launch your back-up, learn to toggle.

I simply cannot pass this shop,

Without YEARNING – I’m always torn,

Should I buy some house essentials?

Or settle for some techno porn?

I may pass by if I’m in company,

But I’m quite lost if I’m alone,

Can’t resist the latest tablet,

Or this year’s must-have, mobile phone.

But chances are, I’ll drag you in,

And, once in, you won’t turn back.

You’ll walk out with an Apple Air

Or the iPhone or  the Mac…..

You can barely turn on the TV without some reality programme featuring “celebrities” tackling a challenge new to them. Forgive my cynicism, but much of the time we can be forgiven for barely recognising many of them

I have written a poem about those people, actors, singers, sportswomen and men etc., who are lured out of (semi-) retirement and obscurity and the fickle public who make or break them…

I once was the toast

Of film, of TV.

Couldn’t open a paper

Without something ’bout me.

I was the face of the 80s

I was hip, I was hot

Now I’m just me

I’m not known, I’m just NOT.

Now I’m deffo not A list

Or B. Maybe C

But I need the exposure

On prime time TV.

So I’ll enter the jungle

Eat kangaroo penis

To remind you – vaguely

As to just where you’ve seen us.

Put my body through hell

And humiliation

But I’ll be on the lips

Of each bod in the nation.

I’ll tackle the bitching

Of Celeb Big Brother

So I’m not considered

As just A N other.

I’ll dance or I’ll skate my way

Into your brain

But come a new year

I’ll be forgotten again.

I wannabe famous

I don’t know what for

I’m not good at much,

Just know I want more.

Know I can’t act

Know I can’t  sing

I’ve really no talent

I just want some bling.

Want a car by Ferrari

A suit by Versace

To be seen at a premiere

Or an after show party.

I’ll streak at the rugby

To get on TV

My body’s not perfect

But I will be seen.

I’ll ‘out’ you on Facebook

I’ll block you on Twitter

Won’t  play by the rules

I’ll gossip, I’ll titter.

I’ll climb into bed

With an ‘A’ list celeb

Sell my tale to the tabloids

– No avoiding my web

I’ll shaft my own sibling

To get a new ‘friend’

Don’t care who I hurt

It’s a means to an end.

I’m a girl on a mission

I don’t give a damn

Who cares who I hurt

So you know who I am.