new poems from down udder!

Was it this year or was it last year
That I signed my final Will
Have the clock hands just stopped turning
And the cuckoo lost its trill

Where did that Zimmer frame come from
I didn’t order that
And where did all those stains come from
That sit upon the mat?

Now I know Sundays’ disappeared
But not sure if I’ve passed last year
Did I replace the toilet roll last night?
‘Cause my sphincters gone all tight!

Well I know if I switch on tellie
It will bring me back to life
They give me all the info even, time and strife!
Is that the time already; I’ve got appointment with me wife!
I visit her as often as me mind kicks into gear
She always seems so patient, never moans or not sincere
So if I can catch the right bus, I can be there minutes flat
Then I sit there with me beer can at the grave side on the grass!

Getting home is still a problem
After finishing ‘six pack’ and a chat
Can’t remember number of the bus
And is it red or is it black!

So sometime I start walking
And it always works real neat
With me white cane waving madly
Cars stop; and rides a treat!

So I’m getting by quite comfortably
In whatever year I’m in
Someone is paying fuel bills
And emptying the bin

So each day is new adventure
With buses red and black
And I’ve never lost the cemetery
Even though it’s moving fast

I’ve lost the other half sometimes
But the others help to pass the time
And eventually she turns up again
Usually on the days with rain!

© davo

Percy Thrower was one of the first - if not the first - celebrity gardeners on black and white UK TV.

He had his own garden centre in Shrewsbury IIRC was a plant expert.

Your Percy is far newer and more accustomed to being pointed at porcelain..

yep not sure if I ever saw him but his name must have stuck in my mind a bit like a thrown spanner and one day triggered off a limerick - that's the world of limericks!

The man who lived forever?
 

I woke one mourn and lay awhile
As I usually did
Just savoring early morning sounds
Wondering if I was still ill

Then it dawned upon me
As I lay there in the ‘cot’
Not a single ache or pain could I feel
I had not one single jot!

Just lay there little longer
Not believing what I felt
Could this be really true I asked
Still here or crossed the veldt?

No – clock still ticking on the wall
Cat purring next to slippers
Yes I was alone, but felt refreshed
Didn’t even miss the missus!

I lay there for a minute more
Then slowly into slippers
Stood straight upright, and felt alright
I’d never felt so fitter!

Walked around, ran on the spot
Could have sworn I’d aged to twenty
I know I’d prayed for some release
But this was more and plenty!

The days went by, visited old haunts
And called on mates a plenty
Then the strangest thing occurred
Funerals came up plenty

The family all were so amazed
I led all their celebrations
I danced away the night with young
And left them tired and empty

But then the funerals never stopped
Me old mates gone before
I felt so young and full of zest
But no one to yarn and jaw with

I waved the last one fond farewell
I was just left with all the photos
The youngsters said yes let’s have more fun
But I was surrounded by the “ghosters”

I couldn’t stay on being young
No memories to share or savour
I’d have to start life all again
With those I didn’t favour

So then I made the final choice
Give me back me the aches and pains
And let me die when time says now
And cast away the ‘gains’

 

© davo

You have a talent for the melancholy Davo - a sad but fascinating tale.

well I am melancholic, sad and fascinating too!

here's another sad and melancholic one too!!


When all of your contemporaries
And all the stars you knew
Have all passed on; it’s then you know
They drew short straws ‘fore you!

 When there is no one left to say to you
Remember when we passed this way
Then ya know you’re just way out in front
And it’s getting lonelier by the day!

 
So get out all those old photos
And have just one last look
Cos ya can bet for sure as damn it
Ya name is written in the book!

 
It’s like waiting at the station
And you think you’ve missed ya train
And the station masters shut up shop
And you think you’ve gone insane!

 
They invite you to their parties
And smile as they pass the plate
And all you see are moving lips
Just talkin at fast pace!

 
So just turn off that old hearing aid
Enjoy the peace; give one last wave
The world that you once knew and shared
Has simple moved on ten more squares!

While were all feeling morbid! I can hark back to my 3 years of shepherding 1967-70.

The Dog

You may not see me often as I ride around my sheep
The hills are hard and savage and the bloody things are steep.
I find a seep, a boggy patch and tell my horse to go
But he is being stubborn - in his minds eye he says ,”No!”
We struggle some, then I get off and lead him to the place
One step  and I am knee deep , then flat upon my face.

I look up to his patient face as he stands up and dry,
While I gaze  wet and miserable into a leaden sky.
Back aboard my saddle I let him show me where
The best place to approach and then to get us there.
My silent heading Dog looks up as if to ask the Lord
Where did he get this  useless boss who cannot find a ford.

We reach the ridge and Dog has seen a ewe that’s having trouble
He looks at me and sighs and rounds her up quick double,
He eyes her still and I’m supposed to creep up to her with skill,
Assist the lamb to join the world and help him get his fill.
The Dog is thirteen years of age, I lack his expertise
To do the job as well as he, as I fumble on my knees.

For three years Dog encouraged me, and tried to help me learn
But he was aging fast, you see and I had years to burn.
At last his sight was giving in, but agile  still  and  keen
He’d run  into a tree or  fence his dim eyes hadn’t seen.
I couldn’t leave him left behind when other dogs I ran
He loved the run, the company, the knowledge that he can.

I shot that Dog one evening.  Under the kanuka tree
Gave him fillet steak , his favourite , set his spirit free.
I stroked his old grey head before he died under my hand,
Owed him that, I did , a friend , fellow worker on the land.
The tears rolled down my cheeks as I sighted between his eyes
The shot thundered, he twitched a bit, became silent bye and bye

I buried him with care and thought, beneath that tree so old
Wrapped in a blanket  bright to keep him from the cold.
I made a token to mark  the ground that was his place of rest
I knew without a doubt  that he  was one of nature’s best.
I sat for hours beside his grave , that starry moonlit night
And watched a meteor flash past  and thought, “an omen!” right!


you definitely have a touch of Lawson and Paterson there laddie! - a dogs a mans best friend for sure!

So sad!  Couldn't hold the tears back... 

Dreamtime [whitefella style]


I sup another amber brew

And smoke peace bowl until it’s through

Then charge another one to go

The dream time has to go real slow


And slowly in the cool morn air

The thoughts and memories become more clear

The map of life becomes spread out

And now I see it with no doubt

　

The things I’ve done; the paths I’ve trod

The crossroads; always a sod!

Take the left; take the right

Is that a star I see so bright?

　

But now I can just map it all

Change the choices; make the call

Then look at where it may have led

If only I had kept cool head!

　

Ah well the dreamtime will not change our world

We made our beds and on it curl

Well maybe just one more amber cup

And charge another peaceful plug?

Grandfather clock had stood there for a long time
Even longer than he could remember
He had been told that he came from a long Germanic line
 
Life had been good apart from the ringing in his ears
But he had learnt to cope with that over the years
But had to admit to that small feeling of terror as the hour approached
 
Things had gone wrong once back in 1921
Something about a main ratchet and spring
So for a few days he had been able to rest and meditate
And listen to old grandmother clock keeping her time
 
Fortunately someone had ‘programmed them’ with a minutes clearance
So they didn’t compete a lot
And it was nice to hear her less somber and more melodious chimes
 
He had heard talk along the corridor of the new era of clocks
The ‘electronics’ that didn’t need winding
But what did it all mean?
 
He had to admit though that getting wound up was a bit intrusive
Invasive even, and since they started letting the little people do it
It had become uncomfortable
They pushed and twisted and got stuck
Maybe he should think about the conversion job a bit more
 
But for now he was happy with his lot in life
He had been often admire and even praised and lovingly touched
He looked across at grandmother clock and could have swore
She chimed just out of the blue, as if to say let’s stick together on this one

© davo