What’s the oldest thing you own that you still use daily?
I’ve lived too many places
Left too many behind
So much I owned discarded
Replaced to begin again.
I cling to things that are pointless
Squirrel them safely away
But the oldest thing I use daily?
Sorry I can’t really say.
Describe one of your favorite moments.
The shakey first steps of a toddler
A baby learning to crawl
These are my favourite moments
My favourite moments of all.
The outstretched arms of a mother
The tottering steps of a child
The joy on parents’ faces
There’s nothing to beat it at all.
What notable things happened today?
Slept well and didn’t wake early
Went for my morning run.
Messaged my youngest grandson
Today’s the day he’s three.
He shares my late mother’s birthday
So easily remembered for me.
Remembered up coming birthdays
It all seems to happen in June.
I’m seventy two in a few days
So even have one of my own.
Each of my family are special
So birthdays are notable days
But the thing that makes this one special
Is I’m back and writing for you.
Welcome back to Andrew Green’s Poems – look out for me on the Daily Prompts as I get myself back in gear.
‘Is your glass half full or half empty?’,
A question I don’t understand.
My glass is half full if you’re filling it.
Keep pouring please – to the top.
Half empty as soon as I drink from it.
I could do with you topping it up.
The secret’s to keep refreshing things
Not just to use life up.
It’s fine to be glass half empty
Just remember to fill it back up.
Tᴡɪɴᴋʟᴇ, twinkle, would be stars,
There’s no gigs they closed the bars
Twinkle, twinkle, no nights out
Tough for comics there’s no doubt.
When the pubs and clubs are shut
There are no gigs, there’s no stand up
Nowhere you can raise a laugh,
Lead us up a giggly path.
Not that we don’t need a laugh
A glint of humour, tiny spark,
A hint of how things used to be,
The ‘funny side’ we have to see.
Meanwhile prisoned in your room
You struggle for a laugh on zoom
And wryly through the curtains peep
To see the world gone quiet, asleep.
It’s your bright and hard won laugh
Lights an audience in the dark,
Tho’ I know not where you are,
Come back soon oh little star.
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When shall we three meet again
carefully social distancing?
When the hurley burley’s done
And when ‘R’ is less than one.
Where the place? On the heath?
What of thunder, lightening, rain?
Can’t we meet inside again?
It’s not safe to be indoors
Lest we meet with covered face
Mask upon that nose of yours.
Double, double, toil and trouble
Fire burn and cauldron bubble
See what happens if I cough
Folk can’t scatter fast enough!
Fillet of a fenny snake
In the cauldron boil and bake
Works much better than the bleach
Orange fella’s bad mistake.
Eye of newt and tongue of frog
Wool of bat and tongue of dog.
For a charm of powerful trouble
Watch my Wuhan hell broth bubble.
We’d have conjured far more deaths
If not for the nhs
Saved the skin of that Macbeth
Stayed at home escaping us.
There ought to be an old folks’ demo
Gather, Piccadilly Square
Pull down Eros Statue
Eternal Youth, oh yeah??!!
Who got dumped in care homes
To ‘save the nhs’?
They were just ‘bed blockers
Discharged got no tests.
Left there with their carers
No proper PPE
ICU won’t take them
Have to keep those beds free.
Let’s delay the lockdown
‘Herd immunity’
Only old folk dieing
That’s OK you see.
So pack out Piccadilly
Cram all the old folks in
May just spread the virus
But a cause worth gathering.
Little boy blue,
Come blow your horn,
Tell us how wonderfully
Everything’s gone.
There’s sheep in the meadow,
There’s cows in the corn.
Our death toll’s the highest
The problem’s not gone.
There’s chlorine in chickens
There’s hormones in beef
But where is the boy
Who looks after the sheep?
Where is the man
Who will make Britain ‘Great’
He’s under a haystack
fast asleep.
Little Jack Horner stared in a mirror
admiring his puffy white skin.
He stuck up his thumb
and was proud as they come
that the white pallid likeness
was him.
Now the thing about skin
is it’s a very good thing
for keeping our insides tucked in
but the colour and hue
is not down to you.
You pretty much get
what you’re given.
It’s pretty good stuff
for feeling and touch
and helps keep our bodies
real cool.
It does all that stuff
quite well enough
but what it is not
is really that hot
for deciding
who gets the best job.
A good enough reason
it’s certainly not
for someone to kneel
on your neck
so unable to breath
you’ll soon be stone dead
and all cos
your skin colour’s black.
Your skin’s really not
a license to kill
or even assume you’re
the boss.
So get used to seeing
whatever their colour
that others are really like us.
The years of oppression
enslaved, a possession
are really not
how it should be.
It has to change soon
which could take
some doing
but let’s start with you
and with me.
Little Polly Flinders
Sat among the cinders
Toasting her pretty little toes
Anger at injustice
Prejudice and hatred
That’s the way a bonfire grows.
Little Polly Flanders
Sat among the cinders
Watched the burning embers glow
Who has stoked the hatred?
Who should be berated?
How does such a big fire grow?
Polly’s mother caught her
Scolded her daughter
For spoiling her pretty little clothes
Liberty affronted
Human rights confronted
That’s the way our freedom goes.
Little Polly Flinders
Sad among the cinders
Watches conflagration grow
Cries in consternation
So sad for her nation
Tearful as the bonfires grow.
Andrew Green's Poems 