Touchy feely...

Touchy feely

It’s been ten years of hard toil picking up your stuff,

I think it time we drew a line and say enough’s enough!

From dust, to dirt, and filth, to grime and loads of skin and fluff,

Don’t you care that I’m fed up - now I’m fucked up and duff?

Am feeling ineffective, old and not so bold;

Now I’m all defective - keep blowing hot and cold!

The first time that you saw me, I was bought and sold

It’s just a shame you don’t feel the same, now I’m on the fold.

You’ve pushed and shoved, yanked, jerked and tugged

And dragged and heaved, hauled, pulled and lugged!

All I want in my old age is some respect (and perhaps a hug)

Fed up with sucking up to carpets that own blood-sucking bugs.

I’ve cleaned your stairs picked up all your hairs,

Disgusting brown, peroxide blonde with some grey and fair.

It’s time to buy another model - now they can have their share!

(Just be grateful that I gave you many years of wear and tear)

Remember the time I stood by your side with all that rubble?

I patiently picked it up and sucked - saved you a lot of trouble!

And all the things you can’t see, like hairy shaving stubble!

I’m blowing now, not sucking, am getting very muddled.

And In my dustbag, there are loads of fags, bits of mags

Scraps and rags, it’s got a drag and I’ll be glad

To retire. And you’ll be sorry and will be sad

Coz I’m won’t be around to clean your carpet shag!

I must admit, I’ve lost my wit, now I’m falling to bits,

My pipes are all long broken now a mix of sellotape and plastic!

I’ve slowed right down and with a frown, now I’m deemed unfit.

It’s high time now you considered buying a newer kit.

I’m not as young as I used to be, not so touchy-feely;

Not working as I used to, can’t be pushed around so freely.

My days are almost through now I’m not so steely.

With lots of love, in Hoover land, from your faithful Miele!

Copyright Linda Lawrence

For my Mum 12^th July 2012

What about the drought?!?

What about the drought?

I won't go out

It's raining a drought!

This wench

Is drenched

Brolley's inside-out!

And it's so bizarre

I can't wash my car;

Is there no

Water left

In the reservoir?

A forlorn black sky -

A storm is close by

But politicians state

(In a dried up debate)

That the hosepipes

Stay dry!

My hair is frizzy

And feeling grizzly

As once again

It's got so drizzly

And people do insist

There's a little scotch mist.

It does appear

That the atmosphere

And troposphere

Are wet!

And it's raining 

Cats and Dogs

In the Stratosphere!

I won't go out -

So much wet about!

And the British Monsoon

Is here much too soon

But where is the drought!?

Copyright Linda Lawrence

9th May 2012

Nineteen Seventy Two

Nineteen Seventy Two

My heart broke in two
(Like yours) In 1972
Never mended - never meant to.

The tears sting my eyes;
As there were no goodbyes
Suddenly broke all our ties.

You never once hurt me
Mentally or physically
But presently,
There have been many
And you are not here
To protect me.

And each birthday
Or Christmas day
There are no cards for me
From you,
Under the Christmas tree
But there is a candle.
That's lit for your ghost;
I loved you the most.

On your piano a photo;
Your grandchildren,
Who never got to know you.
But a part of you lives in me
As my name is now nee!

My memories always close by
And I always try
But can't keep my eyes dry.
And all the butterflies
That used to fill the skies
Like you,
Park of natures' demise.

The songs played on Radio 2
From nineteen seventy two
Strongly remind me of you.
So happy and sad
But they make me feel glad
That you were my Dad.

14th August 2012

Sliding away......

Sliding away...

Scratched and scuffed my arm is stiff
It's sad that it hardly moves,
It takes a while, after a style
To get back in the groove.

Old Gold, memories of gatefold;
Picture discs, double A's, labels bold.
Sleeves browned, worn and torn;
The labels' disabled and feeling forlorn.

My rpm has slowed right down
Thought I have an authentic sound!
My noise has got a little thin
And many end up in the bin.

I've been played so many times
Danced and sang to this tune of mine!
You've piled me high, put me in line
No longer wanted, this is a crime!

A gentle stylus on record plays
Slightly warped - those were the days!
L.P.'s, E.P's forty fives -
Need a revival to survive.

Round and smooth, slick and black,
Sliding away, just bring them back!
In a dark box we've stacked our vinyl
It won't be long before they're final.

Copyright Linda Lawrence
April fool 2012

The Blue Lagoon

The challenge was to write a song with Cocktails in the verses and now turned into a reggae/hawiian song by Dave.

The Blue Lagoon

Here I am drunk in Seabreeze Air strumming my guitar
Watching a Caribbean sunset not getting very far.
Chilling with a White Russian underneath the stars
On the place they call Love Island where I hold up all the bars.

Chorus
I sung to Margarita -
I tasted Southern spice;
After my Night of Passion
And now I pay the price!

I watched a Tequila Sunrise with a Lady in red;
Turned down my French kiss for a Screwdriver instead.
We sipped Sex on the beach and nothing else was said
Until an Alabama Slammer whent straight to my head!

Woke up on a Rusty nail right near a Blue Lagoon,
Smelt a Coconut Seabreeze under an Adora Moon.
My night of Exotica - it ended much too soon,
So just picked up my guitar and strummed another tune.

Thought I'd find some solace and go and find me mate;
The night was kinda young, just a little After eight.
After a Touch of summer I told him of my fate
The evening with the Moscow Mule (the Iceman on my plate)

Copywrite Linda Lawrence
Leap year 2012

Cyber Note

Cyber Note

Now do those e mails come face to face

Or Pass each other in cyber space?

Do they stop to exchange niceties?

Perhaps pause for a cuddle and a kiss!

Maybe they just have a tete a tete

Within the journey along the way,

A chat - a good old one-to-one

Or indulge in some good old fashioned fun.

Do the letters have time for a fling?

A point in time for anything?

Some heavy petting between the lines

As a mail correspondence climax entwines.

Think it’s almost anyone’s guess

That they would break for cyber sex?

Would a French letter be used instead-

Before it reaches us to be read?

I muse before they reach our address,

That they’ve had time to redress;

But did they catch a P.C. virus

Before they even got through to us.....

Coypyright Linda Lawrence

15^th February 2012

Moving forward

Moving forward

My hands are so sore and need holding;

My lips are so chapped they need kissing;

The skin on my feet cracked and bleeding and

Looking for something that’s missing.

The skin on my body is thinner;

I’ve been frosty without any warning.

My psyche’s been cold - it needs heating up

But my spirit is slowly warming.

Worry lines on my face are much deeper;

The love in my heart needs a flame,

But there’s a flicker that’s getting closer

For now which is hard to explain.

My whole body is full of lack lustre

Like a song, my life’s been like a reprise.

Now there’s a prompt to start moving forward;

And In the morning a brighter sunrise!

I’ve spent too much time on the outside

Not looking close to what really matters

But the door is now almost ajar -

The windows are not quite so shattered.

My head is so full of questions

But there won’t be an answer to all.

For now I’ll just look to the inside

And wait until something might call.

Copyright Linda Lawrence
4th February 2012