Good people of the world, enjoy,
that flashy foil and crinkly noise,
a chocoholics favourite season,
to indulge for no other reason,
than that Easter Bunny left some eggs,
(it doesn’t matter it makes no sense),
so scoff that choccy goodness down,
I’ll have the white, you have the brown.
© ceenoa
i broke my ankle on New Years Eve,
on a simple attempt to cross the street.
my feet moved off before my head,
and so i tripped right off the edge.
I broke both bones in my left leg,
“we’ll call an ambulance” they said,
but 2 hours later I still waited
getting more agitated.
so in the end to my car i hopped,
and my kidlet drove to the hospital and stopped.
they told me I would have to stay,
for an operation the next day.
I’ve had to have a plate put in,
securely fixed with 7 pins,
and part of a bone they couldn’t fix,
has now been given the surgeons flick.
so now I hop, and scoot round in my chair,
6 whole weeks no weight to bear,
and i think each time i see my foot,
before i moved I should have looked!
© ceenoa
WARNING: If you don’t like “toilet” humour (and I mean that literally) – move along now!
This verse has been nagging me to write it for days since the “visit”- so I finally gave in and decided to traumatise you all as well.
**************
there’s a poo in my loo!
it had been well hid, till I lifted the lid,
and a poo in the loo,
when you go for a wee, is not something you want to see.
oh, that poo in the loo,
who left it there? and do I really care?
but the poo in the loo,
says they need a lesson, in remembering to push the button!
so the door to the room of the poo in my loo
now displays note, on which I wrote:
you left a poo in my loo –
next time don’t rush, and remember to FLUSH!
© ceenoa
I skipped the visuals for this one – it just seemed the appropriate thing to do!
I gathered them up and put them,
in a place they could be hid,
and just to make sure they couldn’t escape.
I covered them with a lid.
They are my sweetest treasures,
invisible to your eyes,
yet when I look upon them,
their richness makes me smile.
No thief in the night can steal them,
from the place that they are hid,
and when I am feeling broken,
I gently lift off the lid.
© ceenoa
A few years ago I wrote a post called Reasons why you shouldn’t do housework.
I thought it was time to for a reprise, more in line with my current excuses, er reasons, for not completing my houseworkerly duties.
I can’t vacuum the floor today,
I need to create something that may,
be transiently pleasing to my “arty” soul,
and happy lasts longer than clean, don’t you know!
I can’t wash the windows, sorry, not today,
my grandson left finger kisses on his last stay,
and it would be un-grandmotherly mean,
to destoy his art just to make them clean!
I’m not washing dishes, the clothes or the floors,
I’m not cooking food, cleaning windows or doors,
I’m doing MY stuff, and having some fun,
the housework can wait until I am done.
Oh, and if you don’t like that, then let me suggest,
that you don’t visit, or, better yet,
do come for a visit, and if you,re concerned,
you clean my house, and I’ll watch and learn!
© ceenoa
I’d love to have a shed,
where I could put my stuff,
where it would not matter,
should I splatter,
paint or resin on the floor.
I’d love to have a shed,
a space I could create in,
inks and clay,
on the benches could stay
and not have to be packed up.
I’d love to have a shed,
a Sister’s Shed I’d have
to share the fun of art,
with those of similar heart,
oh, I’d love to have shed.
© ceenoa
Apologies to “Danny Boy” but the tune caught in my thoughts, and so the rhythm of the rhyme mimics the song , of a sort.
Oh, damn it all,
the grass, the grass is calling,
from fence to fence,
and down the driveway too,
it’s growing fast,
my garden’s disappearing,
into a jungle green,
of lush, and knee-high grass.
Oh, damn it all,
the grass, the grass is calling,
and I must go,
and get the mower out,
to cut the grass,
when I’d rather I was doing,
anything else, but sitting here,
and thinking grassy thoughts.
And I’ll be back,
next week to do the same thing,
for it is Spring,
and this is what it does,
it torments me,
this verdant, grassy greeness,
so I will go,
and slay it to the ground.
Oh, damn it all,
the grass, the grass is calling,
and I must mow,
and cut it to the ground,
the rain and sun,
will work all week to heal it,
and it will grow again,
and so the vicious circle goes.
© ceenoa
P.S. Now, admit it – did you try and sing it to the tune? 🙂
I want to declutter my brain,
to get rid of the names,
of people I’ve met,
that I’d rather forget,
I want to declutter my brain.
I want to declutter my brain,
of memories that pain,
and let go of that mess,
and have more space, not less,
I want to declutter my brain.
I want to declutter my brain,
then fill it with goodness again,
the hugs of a child,
their laughter and smiles
I want to declutter my brain.
© Ceenoa
Seems that 31 October 2014 was a good day for writing – 3 posts came up in my FB feed today. Of the 3, I decided I liked this one best. If you’re interested, the original post can be found here.
People think of baggage,
as something that is bad,
to be discarded soon as,
the opportunity is had.
But baggage can be useful,
for storing things you need,
to grow and learn and change from,
old life lessons you should heed.
New baggage is the hardest,
it’s lines are sharp and cruel,
painful corners on the cases,
where you’ve been played a fool.
Old baggage can be comfortable
as it fits like second skin,
especially on the corners,
where it’s been broken in.
Recognise your baggage,
whichever style it be,
you paid for all it’s excess weight,
you know nothing comes for free.
Understand the reason that you packed it,
with all the tales it tells,
save what you deem as valuable,
and leave the rest on the carousel.
© ceenoa
Oh, Spring has sprung,
the sun does shine,
but I’m stuck inside,
and doing time.
I’ve got “the bug”,
in throat and head,
and backache’s forced me
out of bed.
I long to sit out in the sun,
looking at it’s not enough,
but I know that if I move,
I’ll stir up this hacking cough.
This too shall pass,
and it will be,
that soon you’ll spend,
some time with me!
Oh, Spring has sprung,
she shines so bright,
clear blue day skies,
crisp, sparkled nights.
