Joyce Birch & The 1st of April Blues

Oh dear oh dear its time again 

to turn the annual page

Though some of us bemoan the tides
relentlessly we age

On days like this it should be bliss
a time to celebrate

Not hoping that no one will ask
 ‘How many passed to date?’
If ageing isn’t bad enough
the timing’s been a bind

Disparaging slights defamatory taunts
a birth-date so unkind

Of all the days throughout the year

 the trendy neat and cool

Dear Joyce the last of mothers nine

has to suffer 'April Fool'
She is no clot nor dunderhead
ninny goose or moron

No crackpot goof or nincompoop
no one to walk the floor on

Numskull dunce duffer dolt
Joyce Birch defies the rule

Her time salutes the summer’s day
she is no ‘April Mule’

Borrowed Time

A ticking clock defiantly

Holds tight the reins of time

Shares it briefly as you look

Reminds you that it’s prime

But all in all this master piece

Of moments passed sublime

Will trick you into thinking

There is always much more time.

A clock face smile is short and sweet

With its ever changing dial

Moving on incessantly

You may loan some time awhile

Counterpain (Rock of Ages)

Written specially for this eccentric but funny salesman Geoffrey Rock

At Bonus Willerby Electrical Store,

in the section known as trade

Where deals are done at lightning rate 

with loads of money made

For many a year all sorts have come 

not sure of what they want

from the master mind purveyor 

of know-all parts list font

Such legendary patter, 

takes the novice mind off price

removing all suspicious thoughts

smoothly mumbling “Ever so Nice”

“Now let’s see what this lot costs

we wont be charging that!”

or “ No, no, no that’s far too low

we need a little fat.”

“There you are, my very best,

forty quid that’s nice”

Count your fingers check your bill

He’s charged you twice the price.

Week in week out he’s been there

with tongue-in-cheeky mock

the ‘absolute top of the wholesale shop

they’ll miss old Geoffrey Rock

The Purchase

I bought this thing the other day

though now I wonder why

I felt it had panache and verve

so pleasing to the eye

Yet now alas I cannot see

quite why it had allure

it matches nothing in my home

so lacking de rigueur

The Table

The table waits to be defined
employed in many ways
to eat to write or just sit tight
play games on rainy days

For gatherings of families
or terse negotiation
so important is a table
for the sake of declaration

The Chair

To sit upon or set upon

will first require a chair

To sink within or think without

it’s not important where

To use it as a reference

or salute in noble deference

irrespective of your preference

One will always need a chair

Where On Earth?

I put it there I know I did
I’m sure I wasn’t dreaming
it really is frustrating
it makes me feel like screaming

I don’t believe it could have moved
to somewhere on its own
it’s just a piece of manmade stuff
unconsciously alone

Where has it gone where is it now
I’m starting to despair
I’ve looked in every place but one
it’s there I know but where?

Years ago I was searching the house for my mobile phone. Muttering and cussing to myself I looked in every room, on every shelf and every drawer. As I got to the kitchen my mother-in-lawJoan (MIL)  asked "what are you looking for Cliff?" "My  mobile phone MIL" I replied.  She stared at me with an expression of utter disbelief and said "You're carrying it in you left hand Cliff!".

After reading this to a group recently I was asked did I know 'Old John Meddlesome'


Old John Muddlecombe
Lost his cap,
He couldn't find it anywhere,
The poor chap.
He walked down the High Street,
And everybody said,
"Silly John Muddlecombe,
You've got it on your head!".

19th Century author unknown

The Away Day Ode

The time has come for she who worked


so many years and never shirked


To put away her pad and pen


and never tread that mill again


No more the drudge of turning up


the dreary workplace coffee cup


Office bods thrown in together


with little more than how’s the weather


Oh farewell those remaining there


with burdens she’ll no longer share


With bright delight she looks anew


A life of multicoloured view


Nirvana journey’s road not long


Sing out loud to Annie’s song