It is better to have loved and lost, some do say. I say, ‘yeah, right.’

Anniversary Blues.

Sometimes it’s the simple little things;
The way a new sprung sparrow witlessly sings,
Now, what a hollow feeling that birdsong brings
And dark thoughts of a sunny day and wedding rings.

…On the beach, on the sand,
A gleam of gold on her left hand,
A joyous time for our happy band,
And did we not say ‘ain’t love grand?’

Of one thing we two were sure,
Our love was unadulterated and pure,
For evermore she’d be my one amour,
Our love was truly bound to endure.

Winter came, left me chilled to the core,
The cold I hold in my heart has yet to thaw,
The view we’d shared, of that golden shore
Offers me not warmth nor comfort anymore.

It might be the sight of a gull wheeling on high,
A touch of white, up in a clear bright blue empty sky,
Down here I’m alone to hear its stupid senseless cry
Cruelly tail off in the wind, to drift, to fade, to die.

 

©Obbverse

Crystal Palace play host to Brighton And Hove Albion. Old friends always find succor and comfort at Selhurst Park. (Palace 1, Brighton 2.)

Home Truths.

Oh, how the Crystal Palace fans love to roam-
They know there’s little joy in playing at home.

Eagles fans and players revel in their travelling ways
Since Selhurst Park offers ’em cold comfort these days.

The staff at Selhurst Park remain convivial and charming
But heaving out the welcome mat to Hove is most alarming.

And so goes the game, Deja vu, Palace do what we do best,
Letting Brighton Albion linger on, like an unwelcome guest.

Selhurst Park is becoming an Away teams Field of Dreams,
Surely we’re taking ‘charity begins at home’ to extremes

Obbverse

 

So much for Hi Ho, off to work we joyously go… Guess I’ve got them post-holiday blues.

Workaday.

Oh, yes, it’s back to work I’ve gone,
Here I am, sat upon my sit-upon,

Gazing blankly at a blinking screen
Brooding on the good days just been,

Looking out at a bright bright sunshiny day
Thinking darkly ‘Christmas is 333 days away.’

 

©Obbverse

Not much help, being a blubber-mouth when a strong voice is required. Words can fail me sometimes, but my family never does.

In My Eye.

I sat misty eyed all through the eulogy,
Fine words heard makes it hard to see,
When my daughter rose I went to her side,
To stand strong, some comfort to provide.

If she faltered with her words I’d said
I’d take on the recitation in her stead,
But when I stood forth, as if to speak
Well, damn my eyes, they began to leak.

I had said I would speak up without a quaver
But on looking down the words began to waver,
So I stood by, mournfully manfully staunching my eye,
Ah, but my daughter spoke far more eloquently than I.

 

©Obbverse

A new year approaches, new job opportunities arise, and if things don’t work out, well, a spell on the dole might be good for this over-worked soul.

Dear Folks.

Dear folks, sorry I haven’t written lately-
Work has curtailed my writing time greatly,
My old ass of a supervisor has left in disgrace,
Unfortunately an even bigger one’s taken her place.

Nowadays my time is not my own,
Unanswered messages fill my iPhone,
I’m losing sleep, sangfroid and my friends
Now I’m working every Goddamn hour He sends.

I’m up at the crack of dawn,
My first act is a jaw-cracking yawn,
Second, I reach to switch of the phones alarm
Then for the Lorazepam to restore my morning calm.

Breakfast consists of a hash brown
With a jumbo Starbucks to wash it down,
Will this sustain me till my working day is done?
Por favor, barista, pour me another one, on the run.

I’m an hour at my work station, sweating away
When my supervisor begins his hard working day,
I don’t wish to infer that he’s an obese lazy swine
But when he finds his work hard, suddenly its mine.

By lunch that second coffee’s proved a big mistake,
The boss begrudgingly acquiesces to gimmie a break,
My flying feet slowed, faltered then crawled to a stall-
Two jumbo cups a morning’s a dribble too much after all.

Soon my eight hour day had come and gone,
I was feeling peeved, pissed-off and put-upon,
From not letting me spend a penny, on his dime
The tight-ass wants me here spending my free time.

I asked about paying time and a half?
How long and hearty that man can laugh,
Then when I suggested time and a quarter
His snort came quick, his bray even shorter.

So my work-a-day writings, I will admit
Have been joyless contributions to submit,
But now my scribblings are bound to get better-
How free and inspiring is writing a resignation letter?

 

©Obbverse

The day comes along for a maudlin thought or two. Such is life.

Long Slow Burn.

Spring brings thoughts of summer, tinged with regret,
For today is- was- the birthday of my brother Chet,
So I called in to work claiming, truthfully, an upset.

I drive the old roads we once biked way back when,
Them skies looked newer and bluer way back then
To two overgrown boys, so so far from being men.

I parked by the pool, old now, new then… to reminisce,
Of that hot endless summer, of the exquisite bliss
Of meeting Chets girlfriend’s sister, of a first kiss.

So we spent those days, young and tanned and strong
Not a care in the world the whole damn summer long;
Show me a healthy tan, and I’ll show you you’re wrong.

 

©Obbverse

When you’re feeling sad and low, go see the Doc, he might just cheer you up. Or not.

Severe To Mild.

I have my good days, I have my bad,
Sadly, what a depressing month I’ve had.

I’d not seen my Doc for a while-
Perhaps he had new meds on phial?

So the good Doctor changed my medication
And my mind went off on a three-week vacation.

I’m happy to know my moods have improved
But throughout the trial my mind felt… removed.

So I asked the Doc to halve the dose
Knowing it would leave us both morose.

It pains me, but being human means being able to feel
And a half-life spent numbly fogged up holds no appeal.

Sliding towards the edge, and things are getting flaky at the edge. The hope is to try to hold on and get to the other side, not slip over the edge.

The Man In The Mirror.

It’s winter and I’m of melancholy air,
Summer, months away leaves me in despair,
Cold indifference abounds, no-one seems to care,
Yes, I know, no-one said life was fair.

The Good Book leaves me painfully aware
That God doesn’t think I’m worth a prayer,
Every night is a dark sleepless nightmare,
A sunny morning countenance, all too rare.

I stand before the bathroom mirror and stare,
Reflecting back is a madman’s maniacal glare,
See the troubled eyes, the twisted tousled hair-
Don’t we two make an unprepossesing pair?

Yet our problems are mine alone to share,
And that depressing bastard isn’t going anywhere,
My fear is if he stays I’ll go completely spare-
Please change the mirror, I don’t care to see him there.

 

 

©Obbverse