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Poets’ Corner – another from Christina Lynn

ROOKERY NOOK

In the spring when birds do sing

And love is flying on the wing

When after days and nights of passion

It’s time for birds a nest to fashion

Where safe, secure her eggs she lays

And mother bird in comfort stays.

Rooks usually build their nests in trees

Which rock and sway in the breeze.

In Wannock, it can blow a gale

Last year’s nest is up for sale!

So this spring they sought a change

And their beady eyes did range

When looking for the ideal spot

They found it in my chimney pot!

For location ’twas just right

No other birds they’d have to fight.

It really had a lovely view

with plenty room just for the two.

When chilly – they’d have central heating

Yes, this place would take some beating!

To build their best they did prepare

And gathered twigs from here and there.

The cat she turned a blind eye

For after all, she could not fly

Easier catches would be found

With birds that fed upon the ground.

 

In September, when the boiler checked

The gas fire flue, their nest had blocked.

A pile of twigs lay in the grate

For chimney sweep I’d have to wait

Before the gas fire I could use

Or fumes might cause my quick demise!

No wire guard to stop their game

Needed “Dobbo”, roofing legend

A few more pounds I’d have to spend

To make my chimney pots bird-proof,

And stop their antics on my roof!

They’ll see this battle I have won

So rooks go back where you belong

To use my chimney pot was wrong!

 

Christina Lynn

Poets’ Corner – just 3 days left…..

Hello again all – I am today posting some more poems by Christina Lynn as we approach Halloween on 31 October, which is the last day of the “Ageing Well Festival”

Christina trained as a music teacher and has given many concerts in Wannock Village Hall – so here goes:

 

PASTIME WITH GOOD COMPANY

When “Lockdown” came we could not meet

For what had been our weekly treat

Rachael, Brian and me, a trio

Bach and Handel played “con brio”

Telemann, Purcell and Loeilett

They’d have to wait another day.

Not sure when we next perform

But we all hoped t’would not be long.

Those concerts done round Wannock Hall

Where we’d welcomed one and all.

Now performing put on hold

When next we play might be too old!

Could Rachael firmly hold her bow

And me the flute have breath to blow?

Brian’s fingers might get stiff

No longer could he play that riff.

For many months we had not played

Then Brian to me a phone call made

Said his room was very big

Three metres distance it would give

‘Cos from my flute I breath expel

Might virus lurk? We could not tell,

But we thought we’d take the chance

Yes this would be safe distance.

We played again – not lost our touch

And we enjoyed it oh so much.

About eleven had a break

In garden coffee to partake.

Frances joined us for a chat

We nattered long ’bout this and that.

And then it’s time to play again

We’re lucky that it has not rained!

Back into the lounge we go

Just time to play, perhaps the Blow?

The morning really has flown by

In ‘pastime with good company’

And we hope it won’t be long

‘Til Ian joins us for a song

And concerts round the Hall we do

Even if ’tis for a few!

By Christina Lynn

Another Favourite “Lockdown” Poem

 

GRANDMA

Grandma’s on the dancefloor
Shaking what she’s got.
If it don’t shake, it wobbles,
And boy, does it wobble a lot.

The old moves don’t come easy
Even though she’s got new hips.
She swings them almost freely now,
And you can barely hear them click.

Grandad’s in the corner,
Sipping on his beer.
Will he shake his booty?
My Grandad – No fear!

Grandma means the world to him,
And he’s her Mr. Right.
He’s the one who’ll walk her home,
The one she’ll kiss goodnight.

My sister just got married,
And the party’s in full sway.
She’s hand in hand with Grandma
Twisting the night away.

Sister pulls Gran closer
To make sure that she’s listening.
Then Grandma stops and shouts aloud
“We’re going to have a Christening.”

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/grandmas-on-the-dancefloor

Poets’ Corner – a couple of my “Lockdown” Favourites

Hello again everyone!

I think I mentioned that the idea of a “Poets’ Corner” was born out of my finding and reading some amusing poetry to a group of elderly ladies that my husband and I would normally transport every other Monday to their Tea Club in the Lions Club minibus.  When we went into lockdown, I vowed to phone these ladies each Monday to have a chat a read them some poems.   The one below is one of my favourites.

 

BRIGHTON NUDIST BEACH

 

They’re pouring into Brighton

From everywhere I hear

It isn’t for the candy floss

It isn’t for the pier.

They’ve brought their buckets and their spades

They’ve brought their flasks of tea

But they haven’t brought their bathers ‘cos

They’re into NUDITY!!

 

CHORUS

 

Mum’s all bare, Dad’s all bare

The kids are starkers too

Grandad thought he’d have a crafty streak

I didn’t think that he had got the barefaced cheek!

My old girl

Didn’t she look a peach

Wobblin’ down to the water

On Brighton Nudist Beach!

 

The Vicar doesn’t like it

Teacher is upset

Yours disgusted Tunbridge Wells

Has not recovered yet!

The beach has been more crowded since

I don’t remember when

And I hear the price of telescopes

Is going up again!

 

Johnny went out shrimping

With his little net

Up and down the water’s edge

He hadn’t caught one yet.

He pushed his net into the sea

His Dad went pale and limp

Johnny said “I’m sorry Dad

I thought it was a shrimp!”

 

So come on down to Brighton

Come and have a bash

Just down the road from London Town

You’ll be there in a flash.

Swim in the altogether with

The old folk and the nippers

You can stay here for a week

Or just be a day Stripper!

 

Author anon (sorry!)

 

 

 

Poets’ Corner rides again!

The following poem was written by our Committee Member and Treasurer, Marilyn Nolan.  Marilyn had a friend who lived opposite the pond in Seaford……..

 

“WITHOUT PREJUDICE”

 

 

From “Duckhaven”

Blatchington Pond

Sutton Drove

SEAFORD

 

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

 

Dear Sir

We used to be so happy, swimming here and there,

Just like all the other ducks, we didn’t have a care.

 

But now it’s all so different, we can no longer play,

We have to be on guard now twenty-four hours a day.

 

The reason is so obvious;  it’s there for all to see,

They’re up there on the buttress wall, leering down with glee.

 

We hear they call them eagles, but they make our feathers creep,

To us they look like vultures and never seem to sleep.

 

Up there staring, wings outspread, they give us the evil eye,

We’re shaking under our eider down, expecting them to fly.

 

If you’ve put them there to guard you, or protect your “Milliners Rest”,

You need to look no further, our protection is the best.

 

We’ll listen for intruders and watch with beady eyes,

We’ll quack and quack and flap our wings and won’t tell porky pies.

 

We beg of you, dear Christopher, this heartfelt plea we make,

Please cover up those eagles and give us ducks a break.

 

Yours sincerely

Donald, Daisy and the Ducklings.

Many thanks Marilyn!!

Poets’ Corner – on the run down

Good afternoon again – it seems like we’re heading for a pretty unsociable Christmas.  However, I still have some poems to perhaps cheer you up!

The first one is again from Christina Lynn, and relates to the first “Lockdown” in March this year.  Let’s hope it doesn’t get this bad again!!

 

SHOPPING IN LOCKDOWN

 

As we went into “lockdown”

Our shopping it became a problem.

Those with computers shopped on line

If slot was found, it would be fine,

Others used “click and collect”

Great if order was correct!

Many had to go themselves

And often there were empty shelves.

That virus caused a great pandemic,

Not a loo roll could you buy

Though in many shops you try.

Gone were the days when choice you had

No cushioned quilted, t’was too bad!

Though some of us have not forgotten

When all you had to wipe your bottom,

Old timetables pages which you tore

From hook on back of privy door!

Tins of soup and fish and beans

Some grabbed them all by any means.

I hope those greedy people blush

‘Cos weaker ones they shoved and pushed.

And then we had to social distance,

Closer than two metres an offence.

Were told it was for our own good

When far apart, in queues we stood.

As a nation we’ve much practice

Buses, trains, and at Post Office

We’ve obediently stood in line,

And often waited quite a time!

Now one in, one out, it was the rule,

And most of us were sensible,

But when in shop at last we got,

We really felt we’d lost the plot.

Direction arrows like a maze

Left us feeling in a daze!

Up one aisle and down another

Shopping now, you’re in a dither

‘Cos when shopping you’ve a list

So things important you don’t miss.

Just when you thought you’d got the lot

You look at list, one item you’ve forgot

So round the shop you go again

Oh dear me, it is a pain!

Blast! it’s getting very late

Again at checkout you must wait

Then, at last, your shopping done

In the car and head for home.

 

Many thanks Christina!

Final Poem for today

And here is one from one of my favourite writers of cautionary tales

 

GEORGE, WHO PLAYED WITH A DANGEROUS TOY

(and suffered a catastrophe of considerable dimensions)

 

When George’s Grandmamma was told

That George had been as good as gold,

She promised in the afternoon

To buy him an immense BALLOON,

And

So she did; but when it came, it got into the candle flame

And being of a dangerous sort

Exploded

with a loud report!

 

The lights went out! T-he windows broke!

The room was filled with reeking smoke.

And in the darkness shrieks and yells

Were mingled with electric bells,

And falling masonry and groands,

And crunching, as of broken bones,

And dreadful shrieks, when worst of all,

The house itself began to fall!

It tottered, shuddering to and fro,

Then crashed into the street below-

Which happened to be Saville Row.

…………………………………………………

 

When help arrived, among the dead

Were

Cousin Mary,

Little Fred,

The footmen

(both of them),

The Groom,

The man that cleaned the Billiard-Room,

The Chaplain and

The Still-Room Maid.

And I am dreadfully afraid

The Monsieur Champignon, the Chef

Will now be

Permanently deaf.

And both his Aides

are much the same;

While George, who was in part to blame,

Received, you will regret to hear,

A nasty lump

behind the ear!

 

MORAL

The moral is that little boys

Should not be given dangerous toys!!

By Hilaire Belloc

Poets’ Corner – continued!

An Ode to a Diamond

Cathy is a one off, I know you’ll all agree,

And everyone will miss her, but no-one more than me.

I remember well her interview, she outshone all the rest,

And left us in no doubt that she was simply the best.

The nine years she’s been with us, have flown by in a whirl,

With a short break in the middle to produce a baby girl!

She has proved to be a diamond, there’s just one of her kind,

A harder working person would be difficult to find.

With her friendly smile and attitude and eagerness to please,

She made everyone feel welcome and put them at their ease.

Although she’s very flexible, of her you could not rob,

The writing of the registers, it was her favourite job.

And though I had to search hard, a fault I finally found,

She seemed to have a problem with pens lying around.

If your pen was missing, no good looking on the floor,

Or under your computer, it would be in Cathy’s drawer!

 

Written by our Treasurer and Committee member, Marilyn Nolan, who was once Cathy’s Manager at Sussex Downs College!

Poets’ Corner – on the wind down……

Good afternoon everyone – I do apologise for the hiatus in getting some new verses to you, but it’s getting a bit more difficult as time passes.

However, here is another poem, written by Christina Lynn, and with an “Early Covid-19” Theme……

THE NOON-DAY WITCHES

On Thursday night at eight they came

To clap for carers was the aim

And after, friends and neighbours stayed awhile

For a chat -t’would boost morale.

Now ladies Sandra, Ros, Margaret & Anne

Heads together made a plan

Front gardens, mornings in the sun

Have a drink & eat a bun.

We can have a right good natter

‘Bout all the things that really matter.

There’s many topics they discuss,

Great debate with little fuss.

Perhaps if there were men around

Arguments they would abound!

Most days, when at twelve o’clock

I take a short walk round the block,

From a distance I can hear

Much laughter, witch-like cackles

Quite scary, it can raise your hackles.

So I’ve given them a name

Which came unbidden to my brain.

‘Noon Day witches’ don’t take offence

I know to you might make no sense,

But I’d just listened to this music

For you its title seemed to fit!

Yes you really made me smile

From real witches I would run a mile,

But you’ve no broomsticks, hats or spells

And helping others you do well.

Of ladies you are Wannock’s best

And the tea you made it passed the test.

On Wednesdays when you came to pour

And cakes dispense and much much more

“The Noon Day Witches” is the title of a symphonic poem by Antonin Dvorak

Poets’ Corner – another “Ode”

Finally for today at least, here is an original from our Committee Member, Marilyn Nolan:

AN ODE TO “MO” ON HER RETIREMENT

 

If your wedding is approaching, you’ll be looking forward to the day,

But be careful with arrangements, take note of what I say.

 

Book the venue for the service, for the reception, book the hall,

And don’t forget the photos, that would never do at all.

 

The bride will look so lovely, the groom so dapper too,

To have no record of the day would surely never do.

 

A rumour has been spread about, there’s a snapper on the loose,

She says she’s a photographer, but beware, it’s just a ruse.

 

If you do decide to use her to record your happy day,

Make sure you have a back up somewhere along the way.

 

She goes to all the parties, and gladly volunteers,

Clutching her box brownie, which she’s had for donkeys’ years.

 

We thought with her advancing years, her memory she’d lose,

But now we think it’s probably ’cause she likes a drop of booze.

 

She really is forgetful, of that we have no doubt,

‘Cause she discovers when it’s too late, the film has been left out!

 

 

So if you want your album to be full and free of gaps,

Take a tip from all of us:  don’t get “Mo” to take the snaps!

 

Author:  Marilyn Nolan