With so Many Talented Poets in the group it is about time they had their own page.

Ann Joyce on Plot

7 November 2019

A Plot

 

‘A plot, a plot, a plot’ says she

‘A what’ says he.

‘A plot of land’ she said.

He looked bewildered, shook his head.

 

‘Why not’ she said and smiled.

‘Some land, a house to build,

a room for you, a room for me,

a room for all our children three’.

 

‘A house, a room for you and me

a room for all our children three’.

He clapped his hands and smiled with glee.

 

So arm in arm along the trail

of all the plots of land for sale,

some full of rocks on sides of hills,

some with dried-out streams and rills,

some with brightly coloured grass,

says both, ‘but isn’t that so nice’.

 

Too many plots, no choice was made.

How can we ever choose, they said.

We’ll put their numbers in a hat

and draw the chosen one like that.

 

‘Oh, you have me dazzled, love’ he said,

‘Oh, you have me frazzled too’ he said.

‘So many rooms to fill’ he said.

‘How about a spell in bed’? 

‘In bed’ she said,

‘Oh, yes’ he said.

 

‘You’re mad’ she said.

‘I want a plot of land’ she said,

‘where I can sow and grow

carrots and onions all in a row,

a stand for trees, some hives for bees’.

 

‘For bees’ says he,

his face no longer full of glee.

His mind caught in a plot of thought

of insults and of slights on him,

the many stings upon his skin.

 

How could she make him dig and weed

and tend to all her other needs.

His back began to ache and pain

but she beamed a grinning smile at him.

She knew that she could win this round

and so she bought a plot of ground.

 

She took his hand and both lay down,

she kissed away his many frowns

and he began to dream again,

a room for you, a room for me,

a room for all our children three.

Eddie Kent

brought forward from pick of the month.

The Old Ways

Where have all the old ways gone
When good manners was to the fore
People said please and thank you
Gentlemen still opened the door

Boyfriends asked a fathers permission
When they wanted a lady’s hand
They wined and dined their girlfriends
Not looked for a one-night stand

Picking your nose was disgusting
Passing wind was even worse
When girls went to the toilet
Boys looked after their purse

Is chivalry still out there?
Do boy scouts still roam the streets?
If so why is it on a bus
Youngsters don’t give up their seats

Is what I’m asking so alien?
I just want people to have respect
Show their elders some courtesy
Is it too much to expect

When someone you see drops something
Be refined, and have some class
Don’t wait till they bend over
Then kick them in the ass

Remember good manners cost nothing
Politeness doesn’t have a price
Don’t be a sap and be ungracious
It’s always nice to be nice

So if someone you see is in trouble
Give them a hand, don't be rude
And if you do so just look at their face
What you'll see is gratitude

In the old days people they did this
For they realised politeness was free
So let's all just take a step backwards
Here endith the lesson from me

© 2016 by Paphos Writers' Group. Proudly created with Wix.com

  • Facebook Round
  • Twitter Round
  • YouTube - Black Circle
  • Google+ - Black Circle
  • LinkedIn Round
This site was designed with the
.com
website builder. Create your website today.
Start Now