Shall I Tell You A Story?

Shall I tell you a story about a mouse
That lived in the wall of a very old house?
He dined on scraps that fell from the table
And dodged the cat whenever he was able.

Shall I tell you a story about a cat
Who sat by the fire, on a lovely warm mat?
He'd prowl the house with a haughty strut,
But would stay out of range of the yapping mutt!

Shall I tell you a story about a pup,
Who next to his master's feet would curl up?
A more faithful friend you never will see.
His name 'True Blue' fits him to a tee!

Shall I tell you a story about a man
Who muddles along the best that he can,
With his dog, and his cat, and even the mouse?
Contented, they stay in that ramshackle house.

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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I Am......Therefore, I Feel! !

I am a child, lost in a strange and frightening world,
A refugee in a time of trouble.
I gaze upon the faces in a hostile crowd:
An orphan, whose home is a pile of rubble.

See me!

I am the victim of habitual abuse, crying for help
Though there's no-one to hear.
I cry myself to sleep each night
But can find no help or solace here.

Hear me!

I am the invisible person, unnoticed, unloved
Never showing the pain inside
Of having no-one there to come home to.
You'll never know the tears I've cried.

Touch me!

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Words Fail Me! ! !

I'm waiting for a spark of inspiration
To set my willing hands to tapping keys,
But all I feel is anger and frustration.
I might as well be typing in Chinese.

I've been here hours and still I have no inkling
How to pull the words out of my head.
The stars outside my room are softly twinkling,
And soon I'll have to drag myself to bed.

I cannot seem to form the simplest phrasing,
Let alone the tempo and the rhyme.
I think I might as well try crystal-gazing!
It all seems such a total waste of time!

Oh, well! I'll just give up and go to sleep now.
My pillow calls and I cannot resist.
Sleep's soothing hand feels cool upon my fevered brow,
And there's nothing more to do now but...desist!

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Just a State of Mind

It's no fun growing old, you know.
Your joints seize up and creak.
You can remember what happened in years gone by,
But not what you did last week!

You once had luscious brunette locks.
They're thinner now, and grey.
Climbing the stairs was a doddle back then.
Now, it takes you all day!

The figure you were so proud of
Is rotund now, and sags.
Your face is all lined and wrinkled,
And your blood-shot eyes have bags.

Your tummy is now a pot-belly.
Your legs have varicose veins,
And the arthritis in your elbows and knees
Plays up whenever it rains.

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Flower Power

It really isn't funny
When the day is warm and sunny
But your nose is red and runny
Though you haven't got the flu.

And isn't it a pity
When the garden looks so pretty
That you eyes are dry and gritty
So you can't enjoy the view.

Throughout the Summer season
While you're coughin', pantin', wheezin',
Snufflin', splutterin' and sneezin'
Others frolic in the sun.

Antihistamines can buffer
The discomfort that you suffer
Still, you find it so much tougher,
In a heatwave, to have fun.

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Storm In a Teacup?

Rain!
Not again!
Persistently pouring,
Dull, wet and boring!
Drenching my clothes. What a pain!

Pelting!
Belting!
This must be a freak
'Cos only last week
The sun was so hot, we were melting!

Teeming!
Streaming!
Shoppers with trolleys
Battling with brollies
Soaked to the skin, wetly gleaming.

Lightning!
Frightening!

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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The Christmas Fairy

The fairy on the Christmas tree
Is looking quite forlorn.
Her wand is broken and splinted;
Her wings, all tattered and torn.
Her dress of stiff crepe paper
Was once a bright sky blue,
But time has bleached it all away.
It's now a much paler hue.
But through it all, each Christmas
She sits in pride of place,
Gazing down on the proceedings,
A serene smile on her face.
She sat there when I was growing up,
And when my son was small,
And, somehow, I know she'll still be there
When the grandchildren come to call.
She's become a part of my family life,
Of memories which I hold dear,
And to me, at least, she heralds in
A Christmas filled with cheer.

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Merry Fishmas and a Chippy New Year

'Tis the night before Christmas, and all through the place
The fishcakes are vanishing without a trace.
The fish, the sausages, the chicken, the pies
Disappearing like magic before our eyes!

The pace is so hectic, the fryer feels frazzled
While the counter assistants are dazed and bedazzled!
The till's begun smoking - it can't take much more!
And still we've got people pouring in through the door!

The shop's full to bursting - we can't fit them all in,
And if this was a pub, we'd yell 'No room at the inn! '
But the tide of humanity is now ebbing away
And all is at peace at the end of the day.

Still one thing remains for the staff here to do.
Here's our Christmas message to each one of you.
To quote C C Moore (and I hope that's alright!)
'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night! '

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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My Favourite Christmas Things

[With apologies to Rogers and Hammerstein for fouling up a perfectly good song. Feel free to sing along, if you've a mind to.]

Robins and reindeer and tinsel and holly
Christmas trees, mistletoe, Santa so jolly
Listening to carollers sing 'We Three Kings'
These are a few of my favourite things.

Films like 'White Christmas' and 'Jack Frost' are charming.
Scrooge and his spirits are somewhat alarming.
And Julie Andrews. I love when she sings
'These are a few of my favourite things'.

Turkey and Brussels and mince pies and jelly,
Eating till I've got no room in my belly
Then scoffing more till my waist button pings
These are a few of my favourite things.

When it's cold out,
And the night's long.
When I'm feeling blue,

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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Just Another Number!

I've seen a few birthdays come and go
And I hope to endure a few more,
But at my age one can't help but question it all.
Just what is a birthday for?

When I was a child I looked forward to them.
It was exciting to guess what I'd get.
But now that I'm old, I don't feel that same thrill.
It's just something I want to forget.

Another year older means nearer the grave!
And I know I'm not ready to go.
So why keep on counting the years as they pass?
That's what I'm wanting to know.

So I'll stop having birthdays at all from now on
After all I don't feel my real age
And knowing time's passed is no comfort at all.
Besides which, how do you gauge?

[...] Read more

poem by Dawn Ferrett
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