Norwegian Blue

I put on my best outfit
Make my face up, do my hair
Want to look my bestest for you
So that you can see I care
Feel quite good about myself
When we are ready to go out
But at the dinner table you
Begin the niggles all about
How my looks are less attractive
And my waist is far too wide
I catch you ogling the waitress
When she stands right at your side
I feel inferior and ancient
My confidence, it hits a low
If that’s the way you want to play it
There’s a little place in Norway you can go

After the meal is done
(The insults coming thick and fast)
I infuse myself with wine
“No really, this one is the last”
You just can’t seem to help yourself
with speaking the harsh words
Not understanding the affect they have
Or how your mocking hurts
I’m even doubting my reflection
Sense dysmorphia rushing in
Feel I am no longer good enough
To feed your needs within
Yet, I smile in front of company
Don’t let my feelings show
If that’s the way you want to play it
There’s a little place in Norway you can go

I’ve seen this all before
I’ve had emotions such as this
Felt the gnawing in my gut
Sensed that something was amiss
Turned into a crazy lady
Thinking I was in the wrong
When told that I was ‘sensitive’
And needed to get strong
I am wiser now and learned
See it coming loud and clear
I see where it could lead to
In just another year
I think it’s time you took a holiday
I know just where you can go
Bought a one-way ticket for you
To a little place in Norway that I know


Slimy Tove

Beware the slimy tove
Beware the slimy tove

You are the slow worm
that catches the bird;
the slimy tove
that slithers unheard;
corkscrews round roots
of fallen firs

You are the monster
under the bed
who reaches out
to stroke my head;
lashes his tongue,
yet remains unfed

You are the grimble
in my jujube tree;
fiendish felon
with fallacious tendency;
your offer of fruit
seduces me

You are the apple
juice in my eye;
that stings my tears
as you smoothly slue by;
back to the undergrowth
to wither and die

Seagull Zebra Cling Film

We set off on our journey
taking guidance from a campervan
to have ‘adventure before dementia’.
We pondered this for a while,
with a sense of melancholy
at what had gone before.
Discussed whether we two, too,
were genetically dispositioned
to head down this road.
We continued on our way.
Silliness ensued between us,
as it does.
Niamh, our calming sat nav,
took us down long, winding roads
until we reached our destination.
We had adventures, us and the pups,
in woodland, fields, castles and sea.
We sat outside beachside restaurants,
sipping lattes and eating ice cream.
We laughed as the zebras swooped
and hid our cones from the beady-eyed cling films
that tottered up and down the promenade,
feathery thieves awaiting a chance moment
to snatch the last bite from your hand.
“Zebras?” “Cling Films?”
Makes you wonder.

What Rosie Did

Whilst holidaying in the Land of Corn
We left the cat behind
She cannot swim within the sea
For that would be unkind
She cannot walk along the prom
Or sit whilst we are dining
The pups, however, bound with us
(When not incessant whining)
I miss my little pussy cat
I’m sure she’s won’t feel hurt
For while she isn’t with us
Half of her’s on my T-shirt
I left it lying on the bed
And on it, she – demure –
must have laid her pretty head
And gifted me with fur

Fell Down Silver Mine

I fell down outside the Silver Mine
whilst window shopping.
It wasn’t the best place to leave a big rock –
between the window and the door –
quite shocking!
There’s no major harm; no cause for alarm,
just a bruised knee and a few broken nails,
and, for them, a lack of sales.
Because, whilst tempted to enter to buy a shiny cat,
my fumbling tumble put paid to that.
But, it’s early days of this holiday,
and the shop is quite close by.
Perhaps if I focus on spatial awareness,
I can give it another try… tomorrow