All About Their Business
Here, down by the river, there are amazing things to see,
Kingfishers, Otters, Moorhens and even the Water Flea.
All parading together, in Mother Nature's open spaces,
Living out their separate lives, going through their paces.
Hunting for their victuals, they forage along the edge,
Forever keeping vigilant, creeping through the sedge,
Alert and always ready to scuttle away from harm,
Survival's of the essence, when anything gives alarm.
The placid snaking water, perpetually on the go,
Trickling over silt and stones, travelling with the flow,
May Flies darting to and fro, a fascinating sight,
Fishes jumping, hoping to get a really tasty bite.
The sparkle of the sunshine, mirrored in the brook,
Twinkling o'er the surface, teasing my fishing hook,
Whilst waiting for these creatures to come and take the bait,
We hold our rods expectantly, and sit and contemplate.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Family Christmas
Sitting in front of the fire, Auntie Flo's reciting a story,
it's one about her first Christmas as a newly wed,
the same one she broadcasts every year,
but no one is listening.
Uncle Fred, 'out to the world' snores rhythmically
on the sofa.
Mother exhausted, having cooked the lunch,
without help, as usual,
stifles a yawn.
Dad, brow furrowed, is trying to piece together
Eddy's lego set,
whilst Eddy glowers,
after all, it was 'his' present.
Joe, playing with a set of 'disco lights'
is sending flashes of colour across the room,
straight into Grandpa's eyes,
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Charity Shop
I said to my friend, , , , , , , , , ,
Have you ever visited a Charity Shop,
It really is worth a lengthy stop,
To search amongst rails of second- hand clothes,
All of which, at one time, somebody chose,
And find a bargain with a designer label,
Purchased probably by someone called Mabel.
So into one, we then made our way,
And started looking without delay.
So I said to my friend.........
Now here is a really smashing blouse,
Your interest, I know this will easily arouse.
Now it's your size, so that's quite nice,
Bought probably at a ridiculous price.
You could even wear it to the the office 'do',
With that skirt that's got the ribbon slotted through
The hem, and it's just the perfect shade,
Should I say turquoise, or maybe jade.
Well anyway, it's very you,
So what do you think, give me a clue.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Right Girl For Me
I'm looking for a girl who's right for me,
One who knows how to talk intelligently,
She'll laugh at all my jokes,
And ignore the other blokes,
And find that I am just her cup of tea.
The task is not so easy, I have found,
There aren't that many 'right' ones still around,
But if they're out there somewhere,
And if any of them might care,
To find me, then I won't be going to ground.
My charisma can be in itself impressive,
My conversation I know is quite expressive,
I am kind in word and deed,
And I think you will concede,
That I wouldn't be someone who'd be repressive.
I can say that I'm a very balanced chap,
Who, when the going's tough would never flap,
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Butcher's Shop - UK Style
Legs, Shoulders, Ribs and Shanks,
Chops, Sirloins, Breasts and Flanks,
These are all 'meats' of the Butcher's trade,
Where lots of delicious 'things' are made.
Hams, Pies, Pickles and Stuffing,
No I am really not bluffing,
Chicken, Goose, Turkey and Duck,
To buy these things you need some 'pluck'.
With these 'meats' you need to know,
How to steam and roast, real slow,
How to fry, simmer and grill,
It can be quite a difficult skill.
But the kindly Butcher will help you out,
You really only have to shout,
He knows the cuts, has all the info,
With all his knowledge, he's a real pro.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Wallpaper
I went and bought an all-white bath, a washbasin and loo,
The old one was a mushroom shade, and very out-of-date.
I got a friend to install it, at a fair and reasonable rate,
With pottery squares, a shower screen and vinyl flooring too.
It took four day of chaos, with everything ripped out,
With drilling and loud hammering, continuing every day.
But when it was all finished, and the men had gone away,
It was just a new wallpaper, that I had to think about.
I needed to enhance a very discoloured, tatty wall,
Using paper lightly embossed, of a subtle silky cream,
Chosen to match a beige and slightly off-white colour scheme,
So that when observed by others, it wouldn't appal at all.
My daughter measured out the lengths, each fitted so precise,
She quickly and carefully glued them on, with infinite precision,
It took a lot of searching shops, before making my decision,
So many patterns there to view, all such super merchandise.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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Concrete Jungle
He swings his torch high and low,
piercing the dark undergrowth, green and lush,
casting a glow across the swampy places.
Leeches creep onto his laces,
and wheedle their way up his trouser legs,
these bloodsuckers are the dregs,
adhering to the skin on his shin.
They hang on tight. Gee, how they bite!
This tropical location he is in, has become
a fixation. Such beauty lit up at night, as parrots
take flight, screeching out as they flap their wings,
and a tree frog clings to a gnarled old root,
eyes staring resolute, tranfixed by the dazzling light,
and frozen by fright, until the fear eventually
sends him off, to scoff some nocturnal meal,
which will appeal to his taste buds.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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A Child Again
I'm a child again,
as memories come flooding back.
Here I am standing outside my old school
which is due to be demolished for something more modern.
Nobody's about, all is silence, except for the birds
chattering away in the same old Elm tree
which still stands against the side of the bicycle shed.
Such a strange feeling, something I can't describe.
I lift the latch on the gate, and walk through
into the playground, and pause awhile.
Voices seem to echo in the air around me.
Ah! Sarah, the noisy one with the ginger hair, into every scrape,
always a whirlwind. Unstoppable was Sarah.
Robert the shy, reserved one. Never mixed much, a bit of a loner really.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Proceedings
The Committee Members all sat down,
for the Annual General Meeting.
The Chairman stood up and asked if there.
was enough available seating.
He then asked Members were they ready,
to begin the proceedings or not,
Everybody declared that they were,
so he opened it dead on the dot.
Names of those present were written down,
and some apologies accepted.
Then minutes of the previous year,
were read out approved and corrected.
The Treasurer with a concerned face,
declared that they had no more money.
These dyer straights were met with sheer shock,
this situation wasn't funny.
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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The Visiting Aunts
This is a memory from my childhood, when I was about Nine years old.
The visiting Aunts have come through the door,
They haven't been here for six months or more,
Their presence is such an incredible bore,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts are so out of date,
I soon noticed that when they came through the gate,
Their dresses date back to nineteen-o-eight,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts have kisses that smother,
With whiskery chins as one will discover,
Each one is just as bad as the other,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts look all around our place,
Tutting and waving their hands, so the lace
Which encircles their wrists shakes a pace,
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poem by Ernestine Northover
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