My Great Family by Mark Wilson.

My family were shocked about my disability

What would they do how would they treat me

Some turned their back and turned up their nose

I suppose that's the way it goes

My Mrs and my kids weren't bothered one bit

They were the ones that helped me deal with it

I have bad times but they are still there

They weren't going anywhere

They help me with my daily tasks

They help me with anything I ask

Nothing is too much trouble they will lend a hand

Because they really do understand

My grandson Charlie is a wonderful young lad

Seeing him makes me so glad

He knows just what I need to do

He runs around and helps me and he's only 2

I'm lucky to have a great family by my side

They make things steady on my bumpy ride

Gift Horth Mouth by unkown writer.

Gift Horse Mouth – Cyril Bruce

You never took no charity,

Nor would accept a helping hand,

Some would scorn or shake their heads,

Some just didn’t understand.

Nostalgia of that little town,

Now just a distant memory,

No character there any more,

A town that meant so much to me.

What have they done?

What has gone wrong?

There is nothing left to lose,

Are you turning in your grave, Cyril Bruce?

A uniform, so smart and green,

Shiny medals hanging from your chest,

A far cry from that blackened cloak,

Wonder in which you were laid to rest?

A moment’s silence if you please,

A flag half-mast, the town salutes,

A character from distant memories,

The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,

Set the Blue Lady’s ghost at ease,

The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce,

People get down on your knees,

The Tramp of Hemsworth, Cyril Bruce

My Great Family by Mark Wilson.

My family were shocked about my disability

What would they do how would they treat me

Some turned their back and turned up their nose

I suppose that's the way it goes

My Mrs and my kids weren't bothered one bit

They were the ones that helped me deal with it

I have bad times but they are still there

They weren't going anywhere

They help me with my daily tasks

They help me with anything I ask

Nothing is too much trouble they will lend a hand

Because they really do understand

My grandson Charlie is a wonderful young lad

Seeing him makes me so glad

He knows just what I need to do

He runs around and helps me and he's only 2

I'm lucky to have a great family by my side

They make things steady on my bumpy ride

2 short pieces on "Self Care".

"Self-care means pausing and paying attention.

It’s asking yourself a lot of questions: How am I?

What’s working?

What’s not working?

Why am I stressed, sad, mad,

overwhelmed, feeling ashamed etc?

What can I change?

If I can’t change it, how can I cope?

if I can change it,

what do I do first?"

Ethan Somerman.

--------------------------

"Be amazed.

Take a step back and look at your life with gratitude every now

and then. Be amazed. Squeeze every last ounce of goodness out of

what is around you. Savour it. Soak it up. Luxuriate in it. Be amazed.

When you’re burned out, bone weary, and bedraggled, use

amazement to fill yourself back up.Seek out those situations,

people, and activities that remind you of what it means

and how it feels to be amazed."

Leslie Ralph

I Am No Longer Counting by marge.

Borrowed from Elton Johns lyric

I am not longer counting. I’m not keeping score.

I am no longer counting.

Not counting the days or weeks.

I am no longer counting

The sheep when I can’t sleep.

I am no longer counting

The teeth I have lost.

I am no longer counting

The miles going by and by.

I am no longer counting

The years going by and by

I am no longer counting

The weight I have put on

I am no longer counting

The words of this poem

I am no longer counting

I am no longer

I am no

I am

I

© Marjorie Lacy. Feb 2019.

Finding Gold Dust by marge.

Have you seen the fairies feet,

Spreading gold dust as they dance?

Have you seen the mothers face seeing

Gold dust in the light of her babies face?

Have you seen the puppies tail wagging

Gold dust all over your carpet?

What about the yellow light under your chin

Reflecting the gold dust from a buttercup?

What about the gold dust that fluffs out

The chicks and ducklings tiny yellow feathers?

We see the mother bird feeding her baby

We see the gold dust in the babies yellow beak.

We see the sun’s gold dust reflecting on the sea

Shimmering sunbeams from the sky to sea.

Have you seen the rainbow’s bright colours?

Gold dust shines out between the sun and the rain.

Have you seen the fairies feet

Spreading gold dust as they dance?

I know I have.

© Marjorie Lacy.

The Sound of Trees by Robert Frost.

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear

Forever the noise of these

More than another noise

So close to our dwelling place?

We suffer them by the day

Till we lose all measure of pace,

And fixity in our joys,

And acquire a listening air.

They are that that talks of going

But never gets away;

And that talks no less for knowing,

As it grows wiser and older,

That now it means to stay.

My feet tug at the floor

And my head sways to my shoulder

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,

From the window or the door.

I shall set forth for somewhere,

I shall make the reckless choice

Someday when they are in voice

And tossing so as to scare

The white clouds over them on.

I shall have less to say,

But I shall be gone.

Everyday things - Gravy by marge.

Ah! Bisto - we all used to say.

The power of the T.V., advertisement.

We all came to know the Bisto family.

Grandma used to thicken the essence

at the bottom of the roasting the beef,

Thickened it with cornflour, or a drop

of Yorkshire Pudding mixture.

At home with mum and dad,

We had Yorkshire Pudding with

onion gravy as a starter.

We had our roast beef dinner

with gravy, of course.

Then, our dessert course,

yorkshire pudding with sweetened milk.

As an elderly wife, now in 2017

I use Yorkshire Puddings made

by Auntie Bessie - 4 minutes in the microwave!

BUT !  I still make traditional Gravy to pour over.

BUT !  I do use, not an OXO cube but a stock pot jelly.

© Marjorie Lacy.

Last night the Rain Spoke to me by Mary Oliver.

Last night
the rain spoke to me
slowly, saying,

what joy
to come falling out of the brisk cloud,
to be happy again

in a new way on the earth!
That’s what it said
as it dropped,

smelling of iron,
and vanished like a dream of the ocean
into the branches

and the grass below.
Then it was over.
The sky cleared.
I was standing

under a tree.
The tree was a tree with happy leaves,
and I was myself,

and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves at the moment,
at which moment

my right hand was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars

and the soft rain—
imagine! imagine!
the wild and wondrous journeys
still to be ours.

Mary Oliver, Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me