The Creeping Cold by Toni Newell

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Winter is upon us
It gets colder every day
I need a jacket on
To keep the cold away.

My warm pyjamas and
An extra blanket on the bed
A flannel pillow slip
Where I will rest my head.

Shorts become trousers
Thongs are put away
Tee shirts turn to jumpers
To keep the cold at bay.

Milk becomes hot chocolate
Salads become roast
And cereal is replaced
With honey on hot toast.

Trees are shedding leaves
In hibernation mode
Preparing for the winter
When growth is slowed.

Yes, winter is upon us
But is followed by the Spring
Warmth again is promised
A seasonal offering.

Photo from Pexels by Peter Frese

Music To My Ear by Toni Newell

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I woke up to a sound
Beating in my head
An imaginary tune
Which trumpets led.

I did not recognise
What vibrated in my ear
But moved instinctively
In pleasure it was clear.

A mist came over me
Like I was in a dream
Music became louder
Or so it seemed.

Guitars took the stage
A melody subdued
In this euphoria
I felt totally attuned.

The beat continued on
I embraced the melody
It took me to a special place
One that I could only see.

Photo from Pexels by Tim Mossholder

Archer by Toni Newell

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Archer is not an angel
But he is my pride and joy
He’s not always obedient
But loves to play with a toy.

It doesn’t matter what it is
As long as it is thrown
As he just loves to catch it
On his very own.

He can chase it endlessly
Even when he’s puffed
But he won’t give up easily
Until he’s totally stuffed.

Archer is not an angel
But he is an angel to me
He represents all that’s good
Innocence and humility.

Henry The Mouse by Toni Newell

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Henry,
was a little mouse
Who lived in the basement
Of a very large house.
 
At night,
when the lights went out
Henry would surface
And wander about.

He’d go to the kitchen 
In search of some food
And eat what he fancied
Dependent on mood.

Sometimes,
He yearned for a little sweet
He’d raid the cupboard 
To find what to eat.

He’d spend the night
Collecting food
To take back to
His little brood.

Mrs Henry was 
Delighted to see 
All the goodies provided
For the family tea.

Henry was clever
And avoided the traps
That held peanut butter
And that’s why perhaps.

He wasn’t a fan
Of that particular spread
Which saved his life
Otherwise he’d be dead.

Henry had lived
In the house for five years
Had avoided the traps
Which was one of his fears.

So Henry continued
Whilst his family grew
But dwellings were shrinking
Need to find somewhere new.

So he sent his grown children
To the house next door
He helped them set up
Which was quite a big chore.

Now two happy families 
Live side by side
Mrs Henry and Henry
Are both filled with pride.

The Colour of Life by Toni Newell

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Green strokes on paper
Underneath the blue
Depicting a rain forest
Greens of different hue.

Nature’s bountiful
Beautiful and clean
The foundation of life
And very often green.

Green symbolizes life
Producing oxygen
Which keeps us all alive
The world and mortal men.

Green’s pleasant to the eye
Calming and free
Covering mountains,
Shimmering from a tree.

The colour green’s alive
It’s vibrant and lush
And beautifully captured
By strokes with a brush.

Photo by Pixabay

Looking At Pasta by Toni Newell

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So many types of pasta
Of many varied shapes
All of the same ingredient
Yet a difference it makes.
There’s rigatoni and penne
And also shells and bows
Spaghetti, tagliatelle,
Linguini, and on it goes.
And the sauces are so varied
Bolognese, to start the list
But the cook can be creative
And give the sauce a twist.
It’s no wonder that it’s honoured
For its versatility
An ingredient of many shapes
Can produce such variety.
So, let us celebrate
On the twenty fifth of October
World Pasta Day
This year and forever after.

In response to Celebrations prompt

Photo from Pexels.com by Karolina Grabowska

Chinzy and Arthur by Toni Newell

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Chintzy looked at Archer
Lying on the couch
He looked up and she said
You’re nothing but a slouch!
No I’m not, he replied
A puppy needs its sleep
Chintzy, she just sighed
Your excuses you can keep
Another hour passed
And Archer still lay there
Chintzy she was seething
And thought it was unfair
He was asleep in her spot
Where she should now be
But there wasn’t any room
For her to spread out and be free
She listened to him snoring
And decided just to leap
To snuggle in beside him
So she herself could sleep.
There they lay together
Each in their world of dreams
Sharing the space together
Cats and dogs can be friends it seems.

The Story of Pots and Pans by Toni Newell

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In a wide and deep, deep drawer
That sits beneath the stove
Live all the different pots and pans
It is like a treasure trove.
The frying pan sits well below
Lets out a painful squeal
You’re all too heavy there on top
My handle I can’t feel.
The largest pot holds two inside
Which adds the extra weight
The pot itself feels under stress
And says I’m sorry mate.
Smaller pots sit side by side
Squashed together tight
And lids of different sizes
Straddle all the pots in sight.
Slowly the drawer opens
And suddenly there’s light
The pots and pans all shudder
As a hand gives them a fright.
They pushed and pulled around
As the frypan is extracted
And all the other pots and pans
By discomfort are impacted.
We wish they’d find a bigger drawer
So we could have some space
And not be squashed and scratched
The big pot whimpers with grace.
Soon the frying pan’s returned
To the bottom once again
With pots and lids on top of it
And that awful pain.

Spring by Toni Newell

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The temperature is rising
There’s music in the air
From birds singing loudly
Their mating calls do fair.

Bare trees now blossom
As bulbs come back to life
The sweet call of Spring
The drake looks for his wife.

Colours surrounds us
On breeze a sweet scent rides
It’s full of new beginnings
It’s Spring where hope resides.

Nice To Be A Snail by Toni Newell

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It would be nice to be a snail,

Carry my house upon my back

And leave a silver trail,

Never needing to unpack.

Out for dinner every day

No kitchen in my house

‘Cause it’s very small inside

Can’t even fit a mouse.

I’d always be close to home

Never far away

And my house I’d fully own

No mortgages to pay.

Cleaning would be a dream

Over in a blink

Giving me much more time

To play and even think.

It would be nice to be a snail

Carry my house upon my back

Never be far from home

And safe when the sky is black.