That’s OK! (by me)

Never try to date musicians
Actors, players or politicians
All who make fame their lifelong mission
Feel compelled to keep ambition

Uppermost in their mind’s eye.
Resisting those whose hopes may lie
In other kinds of pie-filled sky,
Aspire to happiness: decry

The complex marketing campaigns
To fill your dreams with endless strains
Of violins, and chilled champagne
(Someone is selling something vain)

You’re not obliged to join, partake
In putting out, appearing, fake
So falsely cheerful, on the make
We don’t all want the same big break

And there are many paths to tread
That do less harm and keep you fed
You could just read a book instead
To fill your soul, first fill your head

The January Blues

I am finding my diet depressing
(A first world complaint, you’ll agree)
For in spite of the shakes, and the carbs, and the breaks
I am moody, sore, tired and hungry

Yet they tell me it’s worth it to diet
It shows character, willpower, poise
And with less spent on meat, you invest what you’d eat
In a dress to attract all the boys

So I guess I should stick with the program
For another few days at the least
If I make it that far, on an energy bar
You could use to scrub pots of their grease

I’m not sure I buy in to the concept
That the thin are more healthy and glam
And a girl in her prime must waste quite so much time
On starvation to bag her a man

No, I’m doing this thing to feel healthy
So the stairs are not quite such a chore
If eschewing all cheese, last year’s jeans pass my knees
It’s a bonus worth nothing at all

The Stand Up Comedy Hour

One day she will somehow surely find
A man who doesn’t make her wait
For hours on end as waiters mind
The poor stand-up whose date is late

And twitchy, hover round the edge
To titter at deluded Hope
Who hesitates o’er meat or veg
While others see the running joke

It’s too unfair, her sitting there
The butt of comments far and wide
As serving staff pour drinks and stare
Embarrassment she cannot hide

The constant refills mean the can
She wanders off to pee once more
Still pondering the galling man
Whose loud and boisterous guffaw

Now seems to ring in both her ears
As face is fixed in bathroom stall
Frustrating as the angry tears
That threaten pretty soon to fall

The promise of a lovely sham
An evening of eating out
She laid her plan to catch a man
But found herself caught out

A Stand-Up Guy

The boy waits just too long
To tell her how he feels
A better bet, and gone
The girl has new ideals
But still he hopes again
To hold her in his arms
When tired of lesser men
She’ll warm to older charms

Her Intended

She set out to state
Though her marriage of late
Seemed as though it had hit on a rock

There were plenty more things
Still in scope of her dreams
So divorce needn’t come as a shock

Thus her offspring she sat
Minding this friend, or that
While she sought a new father-faced fib

Stepping out with a crew
Of the less well-to-do
Who could all see the cut of her jib

But no fellow she met
Could enchant her own set
So she one-by-one cast them aside

For intent in pursuit
Of less forbidding fruit
She, convinced the world must take her side

Simply would not see sense
When it came to pounds, pence
The result too important to count

To escape from her woes
Ignored any who chose
To point out how her theory panned out

Get it together

We keep inconstant company
To care and share alike
The only things you won’t divide:
Your food, your pets, your bike.
Her lipstick’s on the headboard
His fags are on the floor
But somehow through domestic life
One tenet does endure
You always put the seat down
To keep me on my toes
So I must guess the pronoun
From the drink, the scent, the clothes

Loneliness of the long distance lover

Try to put into words
The hole in back of your soul
When fish ain’t talking to birds
No love to patch it up whole

Our feelings sleepy with time
The distant land lies between
Though we both claim things are fine
They’re not as cool as we seem

Sure, it’s a lonely old world
Nights on the couch with the cat
Re-watching boy meeting girl
Romantic comedy’d out

A TV dinner for one
Served on a tray with a spoon
Sat picking every last crumb
Until you’re sick of the room

Midnight brings tea and a book
The cat asleep in your arms
Nobody coming to look
At what remains of our charms

And there’s no note to demand
No ransom number to call
The roll of tissue on hand
For when the tears start to fall

A portrait of the artist from memory

The langorous lids, drooping softly over his twinkling, tired eyes, and that mischievous grin, wryly twisting the lips as his tongue darts out to enter the silent debate.

How did I ever stand a chance? With one plaintive eyebrow I had lost the argument, all thoughts of resistance winging their way to hardier climes.

He looks up, and I feel my heart leap into my mouth, ready to fall at his feet. What a world I find in that face, one glance and I am forever undone.

Oh how I both bless and rue the day I ever laid eyes on you.

Stood Up

I gaze upon this lighted dial
And wonder how you take this while.
Where are you now? What do you there?
Have you forgot me? Do you care?
And why am I still waiting here
When you have made it crystal clear
That you don’t give a fig for me –
Nor time spent in my company?!
So why I wait’s a mystery.
Would that I cared as much for thee!
So here and now I’ll end my poem.
And as for you – I’m going home!