XLIII - I remember when.

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Last week's writing challenge from Mama's Losin' It
included an option to write something beginning with "I remember when".
My contribution should be sung to the tune of
"Time goes by" from the film, Casablanca.

◊◊◊

I remember when

I remember when
Letters were writ by pen,
The mail came twice a day;
The fundamental things decay,
As time goes by.

The milk came to your door,
There was lino on your floor,
Mum's made apple pie,
Who cared what the future brings,
As time goes by.

Bad guys wore black hats,
Little girls in pink.
Ovens full of biscuits,
Dishes in the sink.
Spam was canned meat,
And coke was just a drink.
That no one can deny.

But it’s still the same lament,
The rush to change, hell-bent,
No-one stops to wonder why.
Change will always puzzle parents,
As time goes by.

Oh yes, change will always puzzle parents,
As time goes by.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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Apologies to Herman Hupfeld.

XLII - Love is Red

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This week's writing challenge from Mama's Losin' It
is to write a poem about a favourite colour.
My contribution should be sung to the tune of Love is Blue.

Love is red
(making a meal of Love is Blue)

Red, red, my wine is red
Red is the wine that goes to my head
Pink, pink, my life is pink
Warm is my heart with something to drink

Red, red, my steaks are red
Frying for two, along with some bread
Green, green, my salad is dressed
I devoured you and now I can rest

When we sat, how the night sped away
Talking long into the following day

Noir, noir, the Pinot’s I’ve had
Sipping on them, life’s not too bad.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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Apologies to Pierre Cour.

XLI - Memories past.

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Having read Dianne's post and Lee's follow on post,
I was driven to write this.


Memories past

Old envelopes, filled
With letters, notes and billet doux;
Moments of emotion,
Expressions of love or thanks or just adieu.

Love gone unrequited
And love most freely shown;
Pleadings from the heart
And notes of from hearts of stone.

Stories from the country,
Postcards from the beach,
Letters from the front,
And Mum’s attempts to teach.

Letters writ with tears
And read with tears once more;
Wrapped with love and ribbon
And kept in a bottom drawer.

Time entrapped eternal
But released every now and then
To warm a heart once more
In the dreamy land of ‘when’.

When I was young…
When life moved at a different pace…
When people took more time…
And valued style and grace.

Now, when communication is quick
But seldom very deep
Where txt jst sez "luv ya babe"
What memories will our children keep?

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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XL - Six of the best

Well now, Sophia has given me a creative blogger award.
As grateful as I am, it is tricky trying to fit it into my format but here goes.
The easy bit first: a list of my six loves. Or, more correctly, six of my loves.
Keeping to the verse format, of course!

Six of the Best

Of my six loves, the winner by far
Is a well aged bottle of Pinot Noir.

The next love is women, a passion risky;
Mrs Newbery take note, it's friendly not frisky.

On a cold winter's night, when the days are short
Life is much better with a stilton and port.

And while I sit and nibble a piece of my cheese
Some chamber music is certain to please.

With all this food, you'd think me toffey,
But I can't not sing the praises of coffee.

And how else could I end a list so terse
Without mentioning my writing what passes for verse?

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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XXXIX - Love Sonnet to an Enemy

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This week's writing challenge from Mama's Losin' It.

A Love Sonnet to an Enemy

O my foe, we have had our ups and downs,
Our battles, imaginary and real;
We’ve fought at length with tears and grief and frowns
With wounds so deep they’d surely never heal.

But to you I owe a sizable debt,
A most shocking thing to say, I know.
You’ve made me what I am today, and yet
I’m sure that you didn’t intend it so.

As quenching toughens metal, glowing red;
As stones give blades an edge to cut more true;
Your friction toughed me for life ahead
And drove me on to show what I could do.

O dear and lovely foe, hear me when I say:
You’ve done your best, now kindly go away.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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XXXVIII - The Squirrel

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Hey, I won a prize! Stewart Pidasso runs a caption contest
and my caption for that above photo won.
Well, not quite the above photo, I added the Grrrrr! myself for this post; call it poetic license.
My winning caption was "This aint so bad. You should see the other guy."
This lead to the following limerick:

There was a young squirrel called Nutsy,
Who mixed it with squirrels less gutsy,
When put on the spot
He gave more than he got,
As a homicide, it was open and shutsy.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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XXXVII - He's got a little list.

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Mama's Losin' It had a writing assignment last week. I chose to do the poetry option (of course, that's the only option I choose) but one of her other options was 'Ten Pet Peeves'. Since then I haven't managed to get the song "As some day it may happen" from the Mikado from my head. So I modified the song a little. There may be more that ten peeves.

For those of your not familiar with The Mikado,
KoKo, who sings this song, needs to find someone to execute.

He's Got A Little List

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list — I've got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
There’s people when you’re worried who say to ‘just relax’
All the bloggers who ambush you with their wretched music tracks
All gossipers and slanderers; sordid, vile and grubby
All women who insist on calling husbands ‘hubby’
And all the gentle souls who think that ghosts exist
They'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

CHORUS

He's got 'em on the list — he's got 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed — they'll none of 'em be missed.


There’s people with religion, who think they know the truth
And the radical feminist — I've got her on the list!
And the people who are rude and needlessly uncouth,
They never would be missed — they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who claims, in a manner unoriginal
Though even only a sixty-fourth, he’s really Aboriginal
And men who think they’re not a man unless they have a gun
And people who always see the gloom and never see the sun
And that singular anomaly, the televangelist —
I don't think he'd be missed — I'm sure he'd not he missed!

CHORUS

He's got him on the list — he's got him on the list;
And I don't think he'll be missed — I'm sure he'll not be missed!


And that most annoying nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The rabid Monarchist — I've got him on the list!
And men who spend their idle hours bitching ‘bout their wife —
They'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed.
And the Opposition politician, with never a good word
But with righteous indignation after everything’s occurred
And the tradesmen that you waited for but never ever showed
And the people who drive four wheel drives but never leave the road
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed — they'd none of 'em be missed!

CHORUS

You may put 'em on the list — you may put 'em on the list;
And they'll none of 'em be missed — they'll none of 'em be missed!

[Exeunt CHORUS]

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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Apologies to W.S. Gilbert.

XXXVI- Satan's Bollocks

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Satan's Bollocks

By and large I love my greens,
My parents taught me right
Broccoli, spinach, peas and beans
I’ll gladly eat all night.

But the green that gives me much disgust
Is the dreaded Brussel Sprout;
By all means, cook them if you must,
Then... chuck the buggers out.

My childhood dinners ended late
I was ordered: eat the lot
So I slipped them slyly off my plate
And stuffed them down my socks.

Now sprout fans, please retreat
I don’t wish to be debatin’;
You’ll never convince me to eat
Those sulphurous balls of Satan.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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XXXV - A winter's morning in June.

I have been quiet for some time with poetry far down my to-do list. 

I was prompted into action by a post on Diane's blog 

which lead me to Mama's Losin It 

where there was a challenge to write a 16 line poem 

about something life changing from my childhood.

◊◊◊

A winter’s morning in June.

Her hair was blonde, her eyes were blue,

Her legs reached past her middle;

I adored her in the way that puppies do:

All enthusiasm and warm piddle.

Her lips were pink, her skin was white,

Complexion cream and peaches;

I’d curl up in my bed at night

Dreaming of her nether reaches.

I was a mess of hormones, dreams,

young lust and cheap cologne.

But the bubble burst, or so it seems,

When she spoke to me alone.

She was as thick as a housing brick

With an IQ of a winter’s morning;

“Piss off’ was all she really said to me,

I was grateful for the warning.

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© J Cosmo Newbery

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