New Stationery

New stationery – delightful, delicious
Delectable unto the core
New pens and new pencils and cases
And rulers and oh so much more
All lined up just ready and waiting
New courses just bursting to go
With highlighters, paper pads, sharpeners
To get in the mood and the flow!
For there’s something so fab and so special
About a beginning that’s ever so new
That entices and motivates, urges
To bring out the new in you too!

Stationery (Photo credit: wasabicube)

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Bills

Bills – those dratted little things
That fall upon the mat
To leave your mood deflated and
Decidedly quite flat
All dressed in DL sizing
With windows for address
The letter that arrives with force
To stifle and depress

But once every so often
A letter might arrive
With a cheque or more spondoolies
A means to then survive
The constant dread and worry
That bills just tend to bring
Accounts, invoices, outgoings
The banker’s bite and sting!

Invoices (Photo credit: cybrgrl)

 

Admin Mountain

There’s a place called admin mountain
A heap of paperwork
All piled so high with all the stuff
From which we like to shirk

Brown envelopes with invoices
Memorandums listing jobs
Letters that require attention
To cause convulsive sobs

Bills, demands and statements that will
Drain down the money bank
Reports, research and info that
Bustles in the ranks

Paper piled high to get sorted
In time for the deadline
Oh the joys of admin mountain
Let it wait! Now where’s the wine!

Mounting bills Project 365(2) Day 142 (Photo credit: Keith Williamson)

 

Riches Beyond Compare

I spy them sat behind their desks
The bankers in their suits
Counting up their bags of money
And precious gems to boot

And locked away in bank vaults
Are gold bars of so much worth
With all the other precious things
So treasured on the earth

But what do riches really mean
How can we add them up?
Are they really quite so tangible?
To come in silver cups

For aren’t there other valuables
Worth more than bars of gold
Those things in life so priceless
That we honour and behold

Those things that have no price tag
Those things that can’t be bought
Those things that mean so very much
That come with grace and thought

That come with love and kindness
With compassion and with care
Those riches that are free to all
That go beyond compare

So I spy the bankers counting
Their stash of gold money
But I would rather count up wealth
In riches I can’t see

 

The Boiler Gremlin

There’s a gremlin in my boiler
Who is taking great delight
By tap dancing through the system
To blow out the pilot light

For the fact of which I’m certain
And the thing I most implore
Is that his evil little ways
Leave us freezing lest we thaw

Then our morning shower is icy
And as cold as cold can be
And the house is simply freezing
When we rise to make the tea

So dear cheeky little Gremlin
If you want to stay alive
Please hop away and scarper off
Save you taking a nose dive

For the plumber will come to visit
And fix up your ways for sure
Cos we want to have hot water
And heating for evermore

 

The Sock Goblin

I swear there is a sock goblin
Addicted to our socks
Without a care for other clothes
For pants or ladies frocks
For they don’t go a-missing
Or vanish out of sight
But leave a sock lying around
And it will just take flight

A sock will disappear at will
N’er to be found again
For these foot warmers melt away
With no-one to explain
Just where they could have got to
Or where they well might be.
But one thing for sure this goblin
Is giggling with glee

And when socks go in the washing
His eyes shine out so bright
Because somehow in the process
He’ll sock-nap them alright
And hold them all just hostage
In some place we don’t know
Laughing aloud as his antics
That leave our feet on show

So to that mischievous goblin
Please cease your wicked way
And pack up stealing all the socks
You come across each day
For though you think it’s funny
To us it is a bore
For now we’ve only got odd socks
Left sitting in our drawer

 

A Day Off

If I could have a day off chores?
I’d feel so very glad
Would it really be that lazy?
Would it really be so bad?

And a day without the washing
Would just make me so happy
No hanging out and bringing in
Or ironing with my tea!

And to have a break from cleaning
Dusting shelves and mopping floors
Would be a complete blessing
Oh please – I do implore

Or to take some time off cooking
From grating cheese and all
We could go out and have dinner
To avoid the kitchen’s call

Just a day to not do anything
A day to rest and see
The way life really could be
Without chores and liberty

The freedom to chillax a bit
And rest my weary legs
To watch TV or maybe shop
For clothes just off the peg

So could I have a day off chores
I’d feel so very glad
Would it really be that lazy?
Would it really be so bad?

 

The Waiting Room

The Waiting Room,
Poignant with a pungent odour of sweating bodies under wet raincoats
Drenched from the torrential downpour
Pounding on the grey and dismal station platform that stretches out beyond the entrance door.

The Waiting Room,
Silent yet bustling with the crisp rustling of broadsheets and tabloids
Smearing black ink onto the readers’ grubby digits
And obscuring their visages wet from the rampant winter storms that are raging at the closed door.

The Waiting Room,
Optical with illusions sighting anticipation and boredom, frustration and resignation
Coffee cups and chocolate wrappers lay in gay abandon
Until a crackle in the pipes proposes a mass exodus onwards and outwards through the exit door.

The Waiting Room,
Still and tranquil with it’s tired decoration and worn facade bedraggled
Remains in situ, brown, in tatters and unloved
Condensation and mildew heavy, with rain lashing on the forlorn platform outside the opened door.

The Waiting Room,
A room where the world can wait
A room that looks out at a world in wait
A room that can do nothing but wait but a room in actuality that must not wait anymore!

 

Busy Times

Have you ever stopped to wonder
What your busying is for.
Is it really quite so necessary?
Or a disguise that hides much more?

Do you think, what is the purpose?
Planning days that cram so much
To be busy every moment
And succumb to busy’s clutch?

The modern disease of Busy Busy
A rampant venom in our veins
No time to sit and ponder
What is taking all the strains.

For if you stripped away your Busying
What would it then reveal
Would there be peace and comfort
Or an exposed achilles heel?

So is this daily mass hysteria
A cloak of inner rift?
Of busy bees in busy times
Where something is adrift.

And what purpose does the rat race serve?
The constant clock watch bring?
Why not just say enough’s enough
And subscribe to quieter things?

To find time again to take a breath
To sit and rest a while.
For one thing is sure, you can’t deny
That busying is just a trial!

A trial without a jury.
A sentence without a crime.
A life in the dock that’s being served.
The choice that misses time.

For have you ever stopped to wonder
What your busying is for
And if it’s really necessary
Or if there is much more!!!