“My dog Jed” by Margaret Pearce

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My dog Jed

Is not argumentative

And can’t be said

To be offensive.

 

My dog Jed

Doesn’t cause trouble

Damage alleged

Was caused by his double.

 

My dog Jed

Loves to roam

Is selectively deaf

About coming home.

 

My dog Jed

So very courageous

In disgrace in the shed

I think it’s outrageous.

 

oooOooo

 

©

Margaret Pearce

“THE WINTER SEASON” by Margaret Pearce

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THE WINTER SEASON

 

The curtain of autumn

Lifts colourfully up,

Revealing performers and actors

And other such factors.

 

While a glittering gauze

of slanting rain

drapes a curtain of murk

over the choreographer’s work.

 

The orchestra tunes

and the music swells,

High pitched concertinas

of hysteria screaming.

 

The ballet builds apace

an intricate dance

of advances and retreats,

And entrechats and leaps

 

Pirouetting bodies

and high kicking legs.

Sinews straining, arms flung tall

towards the illusive spinning ball.

 

Victory floating in the balance

Soft shoed boots tilt and point

Towards the stage goals

Of white painted poles.

 

At last the finale is reached

And in grease painted mud

And lit by media evidence,

Is the troupe’s last appearance.

 

And that cyclops eyed monster,

that audience of critics and fans,

Shows clamourous appreciation

Of their players’ hard won accreditation.

 

oooOooo

 

© Margaret Pearce

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Hand Washing” by Margaret Pearce

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HAND WASHING

 

I wash my hands before I play

With my guinea pigs, mice and my pet rat.

I have been told that this is the way

To keep them as clean as the dog and cat.

 

My hands look clean enough for me

But Mum nags of the news so gritty

Of those nasty germs that you can’t see

Can sicken and kill the largest city.

 

Now Mum warns that before I dine

To keep away that very bad flu’

Washing my hands will protect me fine.

And yours as well because it’s true.

 

 

WASHING YOUR HANDS ALL AROUND

THE ONLY WAY TO STAY SAFE AND SOUND

 

oooOooo

©

Margaret Pearce

“Autumn” by Margaret Pearce

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The sunlight glints across the grass

Touched by frost to a white old age

Of sober tints that will not last.

Soon the mist and shadows will slowly fade

And winter’s cloak will drop again

For one last glimpse of summer’s glory

At the beginning of an autumn morning.

 

 

©

Margaret Pearce

 

“Autumn” by Margaret Pearce

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The sunlight glints across the grass

Touched by frost to a white old age

Of sober tints that will not last.

Soon the mist and shadows will slowly fade

And winter’s cloak will drop again

For one last glimpse of summer’s glory

At the beginning of an autumn morning.

©

Margaret Pearce

“This man About Town” by Margaret Pearce

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In an urban residence

Lurks that animal of leisure

Barks work is for peasants

Life is for pleasure.

 

A beautiful Border Collie

From a hard working breed

Sneers chasing sheep a folly

A hard way to get a feed.

 

He wears his devotion

And his loyalty so fair

And his loving emotion

With an elegant air.

 

Always complacent

And so very smug

The most perfect mate

To accept a hug.

 

Why be judgemental 

That he prefers to play

He’s worth the rental

So around he will stay.

 

oooOooo

 

©

Margaret Pearce

“SCHOOL FEVER” by Margaret Pearce

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SCHOOL FEVER

Running to school one cold wet day

dreaming of escape and running away

Visiting islands full of sea and sun

Enjoying swimming and lots of fun

Returned to reality dark and grey.

 

Required homework not done yet

Idiot me never a teacher’s pet

Very hard to get past this disaster

Explaining why I can’t work faster

Rewriting forever the homework set.

 

©

Margaret Pearce

“My Secret Friend” by Margaret Pearce

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MY SECRET FRIEND

 

My secret friend

So fat and round

Under my bed

Was often found.

 

My secret friend

Liked being alone

Avoids emails

And mobile phone.

 

My secret friend

Never idle

Can walk up walls

With sideways sidle.

 

My secret friend

With legs of eight

And web well made

Prepares to wait.

 

My secret friend

Clears my room

Of flying pests

His web their tomb.

 

My secret friend

Costs nothing to feed

He always finds

The food he’ll need.

 

My secret friend

So black and furry

After he’s fed

Is almost purry.

 

My secret friend

So very lovable

Mum believes

He’s only trouble.

 

My secret friend

Had got to go

Mum thinks spiders

The deadly foe.

 

My secret friend

Doesn’t have ears

But very hurt

About Mum’s fears.

 

My secret friend

Was so bereft

He packed his bags

And quickly left.

 

My secret friend

So fat and round

Under my bed

No longer found.

 

oooOooo

 

© Margaret Pearce

‘TWELVE THOUSAND C.C.’S’ by Margaret Pearce

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TWELVE THOUSAND C.C.’S

 

He was a macho man

With speed man dreams.

He darned his leathers

With barbed wire seams.

 

He parted his beard

On the outside lane

And cleaned his teeth

With the sprocket chain

 

He lusted for the bike

Of his speed man dreams.

Double carbarettors

And twelve thousand c.c’s

 

He’d pay without woe 

He needed his butt

On a bike with go

On an engine with gut.

 

For that ultimate thrill

With death defying skill

Double carbarettors

And twelve thousand c.c.’s

 

Busted and ageing,

The biker kept raging

The oil kept seeping

And his life blood leaking.

 

‘I possessed the machine’

Gasped the macho man

‘With the speedy routine.

‘I don’t give a damn

 

My bike and I

With death defying skill

Will ride hell’s roads

For that ultimate thrill.’

(c)

M Pearce