Where did my day go to? By marge.

I wake up in the morning

Knowing what to do during the day.

I get up, dressed, set the washing machine going.

When breakfasted, I clean my teeth.

Check I look normal.

I check my emails, facebook,

Then reply to all the messages.

Then, I write my daily poem and

Download it to Wordpress and Blogger.

Before I know it, it is lunchtime,

No housework done, nothing useful done.

We must have lunch, nothing exciting

Hiding in the fridge, sandwiches again?

I sit to drink a coffee, check emails,

Look at facebook, reply to messages.

By now, it is mid afternoon, I remember

I should have hung washing out on the line.

Then I spy, weeds in the garden, I begin

My daily battle with the weeds, which they win.

Weeds can grow quicker than I can remove them.

Oh! Its time I should be cooking an evening meal.

Then it is T.V., time, in my chair, feet up

What will we watch tonight?

Where did my day go to?

©  Marjorie Lacy, May 2019.

I Choose to Change, or Not? By marge.

I am fed up with my present self

The feeling that I am left on the shelf.

Sitting in my chair, day by day.

Reading, dozing my life away.

How do I get the energy back?

My brain is mushing, going blank.

Why am I not going walking?

Walking until my feet are hurting.

I could go out in the car,

Go a ride on a bus or train? Nah!

Why I am I not out gardening?

Why are my passions, leaving?

What about the Cinema? No.

I would rather watch T.V. So,

I will stay in my chair,

Where I can remember where I went,

what I did and with who, money spent.

© Marjorie Lacy May 2019.

How Please can I Be? 10th May 2019 by marge.

How pleased can I be?

Today we have been told

THAT….

Simon Armitage has been

Announced as Poet Laureate.

How pleased can I be?

THAT….

A Yorkshireman has been given

This huge honour…..

An honorary title,

No pay goes with it

BUT the great benefit of

Being famous for his POETRY.

I have not met him

BUT would like to,

He is impressive as a

Big, Bluff Yorkshireman

You can hear the Millstone Grit

In his voice, see it in his face.

How pleased can I be?

Today we have been told

THAT….

Simon Armitage has been

Announced as Poet Laureate.

©  Marjorie Lacy.

Looking Forward to May 1st 2019 by marge. 30 of 30 Poems.

1st of May is a time of celebration

It takes many forms, depending on

where you live. Some towns have

Parades with May Queens, some

have Morris Dancing, some villages

have their Maypole with children dancing.

Other towns and villages have street

Parades with Bands playing and

Traditional Plays. With street parties

people sharing fun, food and drink

with excitable children and dogs.

Simple community events.

Churches and other organisations

have open events to build community

cohesion, introducing persons to person.

Mix and mingle get together with singing

and dancing. Some influential person will

get up and speak.

Farming communities this is a time of fertility,

time for planting. The new birth of lambs and cows.

A time of hard work, often a profitable time

and hope for the future. A time to drink beer

While planning for the coming months.

A time for regeneration as the trees come into

leaf. A Young man's fancy turns to love.

The birds are also busy with eggs and chicks.

Opportunist birds and animals looking for the food

of natural selection.

We are closer at this time of year to our pagan

past. More superstitious, more in touch with

the moon and stars, the air around us. The soil

beneath us. The water of rivers and Seas, all

Important factors to our human life.

My Hands by marge. 29 of 30 April Poems.

When I was young,

I was proud of my hands,

they were small and dainty.

As I got older I could

embellish them with bright

coloured nail varnish,

Later still, as part of my work,

I learnt manicure and also

taught it, my hands were

immaculate then.

Other people would envy

them, hiding their own bitten

nails behind their backs,

asking for help.

Now, in old age I have arthritic

hands that are no longer pretty.

A road map of blue veins dominate,

red lumps and bumps of knuckles.

It is difficult now to take proper care,

of my hands, cutting and shaping is hard.

I don’t cut my nails until I absolutely have to.

It is me that hides my hands in gloves.

Unwilling for people to see how ugly

my once small and dainty hands have

become. I am tired, I am weary,

I am old

©  Marjorie Lacy.

The Difference between Mist and Fog by marge. 28 of 30 April Poems.

I drove up to the hill out of my village,

the further up I got, the thicker the mist.

I turned left, and bumped into the fog!

The fields of Oil Seed Rape had looked

almost romantic in the mist!

Now, had disappeared, hidden by fog.

As I reached the top of the hill, no fog!

The green Farmers fields were there

his private airfield was still there.

Suddenly, I was in the misty rain, with

windscreen wipers flip, flopping.

It was more like autumn weather.

What is wrong with our weather?

“They” talk about Climate Change

all the time, are we really experiencing it?

Why can’t Spring be Spring?

It was when I was a child, we knew

Where we were with the weather then….

©  Marjorie Lacy.

My Hands by marge. 27 of 30 April Poems.

When I was young,

I was proud of my hands,

they were small and dainty.

As I got older I could

embellish them with bright

coloured nail varnish,

Later still, as part of my work,

I learnt manicure and also

taught it, my hands were

immaculate then.

Other people would envy

them, hiding their own bitten

nails behind their backs,

asking for help.

Now, in old age I have arthritic

hands that are no longer pretty.

A road map of blue veins dominate,

red lumps and bumps of knuckles.

It is difficult now to take proper care,

of my hands, cutting and shaping is hard.

I don’t cut my nails until I absolutely have to.

It is me that hides my hands in gloves.

Unwilling for people to see how ugly

my once small and dainty hands have

become. I am tired, I am weary,

I am old.

©  Marjorie Lacy.

The Land Train at the Seaside by marge. 26 of 30

One of the delights of the seaside

is the Land train, a delight for

Mums, dads, kids and dogs!

Grandma and Grandad too.

The trains are usually brightly coloured,

Driven by an elderly man, like everybody’s

grandad. Polite and helpful gives you

your ticket too.

Excited children board, deciding

where everyone will sit, can’t wait

for it to move so that they can wave.

The engine starts and Woops we’re off!

Everybody waves at trains, it is

part of the fun of being at the

Seaside. Well! We don’t have Land

Trains at home! Do we?

When we get to the end of the track,

Do we stay on or go straight back?

Do we get off and play on the beach?

Shall we get off and have ice cream?

The Land train takes us back again,

time to go and have our tea,

“Can we come again, Mum”

Can we dad, can we, can we, Please?

Have you heard a Hurdy Gurdy Played. 25 of 30 April Poems

I had never heard one until

during our day at Pontefract

Castle a couple of Medieval

Musicians were playing some

very different type of music.

Drawn by the strange notes

coming from the Hurdy Gurdy.

An odd-looking instrument,

with airbag and drone pipes

similar to Scottish bagpipe,

it has small wooden keys.

Also, strings that are vibrated by

turning a crank handle.

Intrigued we sat and listened, the man's

wife was accompanying him on a whistle

while banging a deep sounding drum

and tapping on the bells hung on a stand.

tapping on the bells hung on a stand.  

A talented woman!

Their collective sound was magical.

When not playing, the man told us

about the Hurdy Gurdy, an ancient

instrument, his came from Germany.

the Hurdy Gurdy is known all over

Europe and North Africa.

In medieval England, it was known

as a Hurly Burly. Often played by

Blind beggars in places where

A lot of people could be found.

© Marjorie Lacy, April 2019.

The Mummers Play. by marge 24 of 30 April poems

The Mummers Play:                                           24 of 30 April Poems.

St. George and the Dragon.

We were at Pontefract Castle                

celebrating St. Georges Day,

Various entertainments were

telling the stories of St. George.

The Mummers got the biggest

audience, all excited about

seeing the Dragon.

This was a small group of Mummers

who needed help from the audience,

children eagerly became sheep or

village children. Some beefy men

also joined in to help the villagers

to kill the dragon who was eating

their sheep and smaller children.

The villagers tried throwing stones,

shouting and throwing water at the

dragon, but it was not afraid and kept

coming back each night. Then they

were told that St. George would be

riding through their village, they

sent some men to plead with St. George

to stay overnight and help them

kill the dragon.

The village men and beefy men from

the audience lay in wait for the

dragon coming for the baited sheep

left out for it. The dragon fell for

their trick, St. George and all the

men fell on the dragon, St. George

stabbed it with his sword, then           NOTE: In this version,

cut off its head and held it up.                         A woman was inside

                                                                        The dragon’s costume.

Everybody cheered, they need not                    Her roar was not very

fear the dragon again, they thanked                 loud.

St. George and he went on his way.

© Marjorie Lacy. April 2019.