Monday, 10 December 2007

CHRISTMAS PAST.But I think it's going to be O.K.

I've collected the turkey, that went quite well,
Cleaned all the cutlery, that was just hell.
Arranged all the seating I think they will fit,
Oh! now there are two more, I'll move chairs a bit.
The turkey is cooking I don't want it tough,
Ten minutes a pound, plus twenty's enough.
The veg are a nightmare, there are such a lot,
Potatoes or sprouts first, I think I've lost the plot.

BUT I KNOW IT'S GOING TO BE O'K'.

My husbands a problem, he won't let me drink,
A glass of white wine would be perfect I think,
I'm afraid he remembers my terrible gaffe,
When I dropped the turkey but it made us all laugh.
The trouble that day was we went to the pub,
The drinks flowed so freely, ah! that was the rub.

SO NOW THE COOK IS NOT ALLOWED A DRINK.

The turkey is perfect it's resting a while,
The potatoes so crispie I just have to smile.
I look at the tables I think they will pass
NOW I'm allowed to have a quick glass.
Let's get them seated and fill up each tum,
Sometimes it's not bad being a mum.
They stand and raise glasses, then give me a look,
They say "happy Cristmas and here's to the cook"

I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE O.K.

Jill West.

Monday, 19 November 2007

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Friday, 16 November 2007

DENNIS'S DARING DEED.

When dinosaurs left the Jurasic park,
They travelled and travelled for miles.
Most of their journey was in the dark,
Over hedges and ditches and stiles.

Their leader Big Dennis said
"We've got to go,the Cretaceous periods over,
We'll be extinct unless we are quick",
So they caught a ferry to Dover.

They travelled on and the small cubs got tired,
So their mothers gave them a cuddle.
Dennis said "now then, we've got to make plans"
So they drew themselves into a huddle.

He said we're in Salsbury, we need to go west,
I hear Somerset's really quite gentle."
One young buck said "really! I find that quite scary,
The A303s traffic's mental

They were so brave and travelling by night
They came to the top of a lane,
Dennis said "let's try here it looks really clear,
At the bottom there must be a plain"

So that's where they stayed and now live on Steart Hill
That's where they gambol and play,
So if you've had a drink at the Red Lion inn,
You might just observe them one day.

Jill West.

DINOSAURS MATING TIME.


If you should come down Steart Hill maybe you might find,
Dinosaurs are living there and others of that kind.
Steart Hill has a stud farm, there's a little pound,
On the left are ladies, on the right males mooch around.

Dinosaurian dormitories is what it's all about,
They're waiting there for mating time off that there is no doubt.
Dinosaurs are singers when you think the wind is sighing,
Late at night up on the hill lady dinosaurs are crying.

Sometimes in the morning around the old Red Lion,
You'll find a pool of water, tears gathered there are drying.
Then in the spring time dino cubs are seen,
Though to catch a glimpse of them your eyesight must be keen.

Jill West.

P.S. Many people find a few drinks at tha Red Lion help
them to see the cubs.

Midsummers Day.

You know those dinosaurs who live on the hill.
Well do like a drink so they've started a still
They're also making rather good wine
Dandelion and burdock I'm told it's divine.

Some beer is brewing, they've added the yeast
They're baking big pies for a fabulous feast.
Potato and carrot a wonderful filling,
The size of the helpings will be really thrilling.

As I've said they're musicians, they sing and they dance,
They tread stately measures when they get the chance.
They've tried modern dances, they'd twist if they could,
As they're rather plump that was no good.

They are all looking forward to midsummers day,
When dinos make whoopee and come out to play
So don't go up Steart Hill lest you really must.
'Cos dinosaur dancing kick up such a fuss

Jill West

DENNIS'S NASTY FALL.

It was just after Christmas there was frost on the ground,
Big Dennis called a meeting and they all gathered round.
Dennis wanted suggestions to help him to think,
As he'd damaged a leg while out on the rink.

He shouldn't be skating he's got very old,
But the ice looked inviting and it was very cold.
The crowd got exited, they were all very vocal,
They said you must call on a doctor who's local

They decided to call doctors Huins and Duffy,
That did no good for they both got quite huffy.
"It's not in our remit to doctor old dinos,
Who are probably fierce and quite possibly wineos.

They said call a vet that would be very wise,
He will understand dinos, not like us guys.
"I don't think I'll do that" Dennis said with a frown.
They're predudiced people and might have me put down".

So they called farmer Tom who lives very near,
He tends all the animals he has in his care.
He came straight away with hot poltice of bread,
"This will help ease the pain and bring comfort"he said.

Dennis felt the pain going, Tom was like a magician,
Now they've made farmer Tom their appointed physician
If they have any troubles or anyone's ill.
They just wave to tom from the top of the hill.

Jill West.

THE DINOSAUR COUNCIL MEETING.

Remember thr dinos who live on Steart Hill,
Well, they've decided to build a school.
With lots of small cubs now if a dino can't read,
It will probably feel quite a fool.

As the village below is built mainly of stone,
The walls should be really quite thick,
"The price will be high" I heard one of them moan
"Perhaps we should build it of brick".

The meeting quite quickly got terribly loud,
Held in what once was a shed,
The way old Dennis ran it made me feel proud,
"The looks are important he said.

What we build on this hillside has got to look good
We must remeber the dinos to come,
We'll consider it deeply as all dinos should
All decided it must be in stone.

So Dennis was happy how it all came about,
All the dinosaurs gave a great cheer.
Dennis opened his jaws and gave a great shout
He shed from his eye a small tear.

Now everone's happy, the cubs have a school,
And a playground where they can cavort,
The dinos remembered the old golden rule,
Don't make plans without plenty of thought.

Jill West.

This village is all stone, with the exeption of four mock
stone houses built in the late sixties.

BULLIES

Napoleon was a little man, the European bully,
When people said "you're nasty",
He said "you you don't understand me fully.
Because I am a small man I have to scream and shout,
To make up for my lack of height I throw my weight about."

There are a few more like him who behave this way,
Blustering short bullies with such a lot to say.
But Napoleon fell from grace ,
To a sticky end he came,
And it would not surprise me much
If they did just the same.

Jill West.

Saturday, 13 October 2007

SLEEP OR SHEEP

When sleep escapes me, what can I do,
My mind brings up problems
And I have to think them through.
I try to reject them but I can't clear my brain,
I want to think of other things
But my troubles come again.

People say to get to sleep
The one thing you can try,
Is that old trick of counting sheep,
But mine all seem very shy.
My sheep all seem so naughty
They will not jump the style,
I get all the wayward ones
Their manners are quite vile.

I go through all the poetry
That I loved as a child,
Then I find I've forgotten bits
That really drives me wild.
So It's back to my crosswords
They really tire my brain,
When I've done a few of those
Sleep comes once again.

Jill West.

I find the Daily Telegraph Quick X.word books
ideal for banishing unwanted thoughts.

Sunday, 7 October 2007

Update nursery rhymes.

Hey diddle diddle the cat did a widdle,
Mother got rather upset,
"It's just as well he's not very big,
I wouldn't want a cow for a pet".

These two are from a friend who lives nearby.

Mary Mary make over fairy,
How does your garden grow.?
With decking , hot tub and water feature
And a few flowers just for show.

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
When the boys came out to play,
He kissed them to; he's bi O.K.

Brian Cowley.

Tuesday, 18 September 2007

THE GNOME.

There's a gnome in our garage, he's made it his home,
He comes from this parish, so he's not had to roam.
He sleeps in a hammock where he gently rocks,
He has a small line where he hangs out his socks.
He only eats baked beans straight from the tin
But as he eats dozens he's not very thin.

He sings little songs as he brushes the flags.
He's quick with his needle so he's never in rags.
Sometimes we wish that he'd go away
So we rage and we yell our anger to vent
But we always say he can stay, as we have to admit
That we do need the rent.

SEQUEL.

The gnome in our garage has let out some room,
We asked him for details and we said "to whom".
The gnome said "he was homeless just like myself
So I made him a bunk bed, he's just a wee elf."

The elf sings karaoke his voice is so high
The sound of his wailing makes our poor neighbours cry,
As we can do nothing to make him relent,
We've told that mad gnome we are raising his rent.

Jill West.

ELF UPDATE

Remember I told you about that small gnome
Who came to our garage and made it his home.
You heard how he took in that homeless wee elf,
And gave him space at some cost to himself.

WELL! there's been an upset they've had a big split
The elf threw a party the gnome threw a fit.
All the elfs friends came , they made lots of noise,
Small elfish devils those wee girls and boys.

The karaoke was loud and they all sang a lot
The gnome was complaining but who cared a jot.
When the elves started drinking the elderflower wine
The gnome was cheesed off he said "that was mine.

I'd saved that for Xmas you horrible bunch
Now there'll be nothing to have with our lunch."
The elf said he was sorry he'd been so unpleasant
He made shoes for the gnome as a nice early present.

Designed in green leather with nice curly ends,
The gnome was delighted, they're now best of friends.
It's best to say sorry when you know you're wrong.
Then you will keep frienship that's lasting and strong.

Jill West.
Some people (gnomes in particular) are easily pleased.

Friday, 7 September 2007

MOBILE MANIA

Moron! Moron! Moron! I want to shout
Although I know that he can't hear.
Coming round the corner on the wrong side of the road
With a phone clamped to his ear.

It makes me so sad that people don't care,
It's not only young men break the law,
We know all the grief an accident causes,
Misuse of mobiles makes my senses feel raw.

The mobile phone has taken over it's everywhere you go,
People heedless of their children as the wander too and fro.
They can be very useful when used to summon aid,
But they themselves cause danger, very common I'm afraid.

You may call me a grumpy old woman,
I can see that is probably right,
But I don't want it say on my headstone,
Killed by mobile phone one dark night.

Jill West.

I wrote this poem after nearly dying of shock when a large
car just missed me after coming round a corner on my side
of the round. Needless to say the driver was on a mobile phone.

Sunday, 12 August 2007

Cider D.Ts

When we moved from Wiltshire to Somerset many, many years ago this small village seemed quaintly behind the times. In particular the old thatched pub The Red Lion Inn. (This still looks old but is very much up to date and serves exellent food.)
The drink of choice for farm workers was scrumpy (very rough cider.) Some of them took bottles of the stuff to drink with their lunch. This sometimes caused quite drastic results.
So this poem.
Cider D.Ts.

He thought he saw an elephant walking on the wall,
Jumbo looked a bit unsteady as if heading for a fall.
Then came a tiger hanging on his tail
The tiger had had a few so he looked rather frail.

A large white rabbit came behind, then a small brown donkey,
Behind these were a camel and a funny little monkey.
The jumbo sprouted wings and flew, the others quickly followed
It was then the old chap knew it was all the booze he'd swallowed.

The moral of this story is don't drink too much cider.

Jill West.

Saturday, 11 August 2007

The Pussy.

A pussy died and went to heaven, his life had not been good.
He passed through the pearly gates and by St Peter stood.
St Peter said "what can I do to make things up to you"?
The pussy said "a cushion please and tasty bits to chew."

Later in came little mice who too had poorly fates,
They told St Peter they would like some pairs of roller skates.
The next day St Peter asks the cat "Is he O.K. and how he feels"?
The cat said "Hey! the cushions great and oh! those meals on wheels."

Jill West.

Saturday, 28 July 2007

Susan.

We live in a small village in Somerset. Some people have quite large gardens
and keep hens. So

Alan came on Wedensday and said "have you seen a hen ?
It seems to have escaped and I really can't say when.
The children are distressed that it's got a wanderlust
It's decided to go walkies and we think it's gone for bust".

We looked around our garden which isn't very big,
We said "if it's wearing a disguise it might be in a wig."
We had to report that there wasn't any sight,
If we tried to catch it we might be up all night.

Thursday.
We heard Alan calling across the garden wall,
He'd scaled the wall of number three almost heading for a fall.
"Susan's in your garden, behind your garden seat,
I may have to beg your pardon but this looks like a defeat."

Pete went out full of fight to corner the pretender,
Alas the bird had taken flight, it was a real contender.
The kitchen roof from number three to Alan was no worry
But when he came into sight Susan thought she'd better hurry.

So when he tried to grab her Susan flew up on the wall,
We said "Alan don't go back that way" we feared he'd have a fall.
So he came through our cottage with tablecloth in hand,
We so hoped he would catch her just as he had planned.

We can't say what happened next, you must enquire at No four,
You may not be very welcome if you go knocking on his door.
I don't think Alan really cares if she won't come home,
He says "she's a free range chicken, she has every right to roam."

Jill West.

P.S.The chicken came home of her own accord when she got hungry.
It was lucky a hungry fox didn't see her first.

The Beady Eyed BIrd.

We had been burgled in the past, it gave us such a fright
When we got up they'd broken in, we won't foget that night.
The burglars drilled the window frame, it was such a nasty shock
Then they lifted up the latch so there was no broken lock.

We were nervous for a long time and found it hard to rest,
So when we heard the noise we thought it wasn't for the best.
It came from what was once my shop, it sounded like a cluck,
So we picked up walking sticks to give us both some pluck.

When we went in we saw nothing till we looked down at the hearth,
Then what we saw crouching there gave us such a laugh.
The burglar was a large young rook, with beady staring eyes,
When he gave a lusty caw we both jumped with suprise.

I fetched a towel to catch the bird, that's the kindest way,
But he wasn't having any and made to fly away,
He flew once around the room and then made for the door,
Pete chased him but slipped on what the bird left on the floor.

From sitting room to dinning room he swiftly made his way,
What was on that poor birds mind I really couldn't say.
In the alcove a blue bowl sits looking like a nest,
So with a caw and a graceful swoop that's where he came to rest.

It was so simple then to catch him and so to set him free,
He must have been so relieved as I must say were we.

Jill West.
P.S. We now have locks on all of the windows. It's such a pain having
to find keys.

Wednesday, 25 July 2007

Media Madness.

One piece of news brings out the reporters
Just like a dog with a bone.
They don't let the truth spoil a good story
They never will leave it alone.
One piece of news starts a media frenzy,
All the reporters go crazy,
They all say "we've got an exclusive
The truth was elusive,
The facts of the matter were hazy."

One piece of news is the start of it all,
Everyone's given a shot.
Press, radio, TV, all glean from each other,
It all goes in the melting pot.
That vandalised church brings very long faces,
The vicar has tears in his eyes,
"The devil is in some people out there,
The police are quite useless he sighs."

One new piece of news can be hard to find,
Their deadline is getting quite tight,
Nothing is happening no news at all,
It gives the reporters a fright.
But if news gets short, they don't give a thought,
They know that when all else fails,
For a story to keep the veiwers and readers,
There's always The Princess of Wales.

Jill West.

Monday, 23 July 2007

Sooo not Banbury

Sooo not Banbury

She rides a white bike to get to her work
From Monday to Friday she doesn't shirk.
With a ring through her navel
And a stud through her nose,
Her I Pod plays music wherever she goes.

Jill West.

Thursday, 5 July 2007

PAYING GUESTS.

Paying Guests.

Our daughter Hazel phoned and said "could you do B and B.
A client must go to Greece on business, he's in a quandary".
He has to leave dependants they must have some care,
They need looking after, not too easy to be fair."

I said "we're not to young ourselves and not really very fit"
Hazel said "you can do it, you'll soon get used to it"
We asked further questions she said "it's Sam who is a polly,
The boxer dog is beautiful and her name is Molly.

We said we would take them 'though we've never had a bird,
I knew we would love the dog, parrots are not to hard we've heard.
We were told that he could sing and also he would prance,
That was very near the truth he led us quite a dance.

He sat in the dining room just where he could see,
But we thought his aim in life was really to be free.
Sadly Sam thought my curtains looked quite nice,
He pulled them through into his cage and ripped them in a trice.

Half a pound of twopenny rice is the song that he can sing,
And he really dances flaps his wings and has a fling.
He says so much and makes us laugh we simply must forgive,
We've decided to be tolerant, to live and let live.

When they both went home again I admit I shed a tear,
Especially for that darling dog who stole my heart I fear.

Jill West.

When Sam and Molly come to us now my new curtains are well
out of reach.

The Assasin.

People who know my husband Pete well, think of him as a kind and gentle man.
He has another side to his nature as this poem shows. It is called

THE ASSASIN.

Pete strode up to the kitchen with murder in his heart.
It was then that I heard the awfull killing start.
I heard the deadly weapon strike, then his roaring call,
His great cry of triumph as he saw the body fall.
Three at least had fallen before he took a break,
I felt compassion for him I knew his arm must ache.
The paper he had rolled up and now held in his hand,
Was the weapon he had chosen to destroy that filthy band.
He knew that there were other ways he might soon have to try,
But just at that moment he had to kill the fly.

Jill West.

P.S. I hate fly sprays they make me wheeze.

Wednesday, 30 May 2007

Surface Mania.

Surface Mania.

Just give me a surface I can't bear to see it bare,
I must put something on it,I can't leave it sitting there.
We bought a pretty table, great just inside the door.
Now it holds a lot of games which once lived on the floor.

The worktops in the kitchen which were once really clear
Now hold china for restoring and oil paints sitting there.
The dresser in the sitting room which houses china bright
Is now adorned with paperwork, it's not a pretty sight.

The television can't escape, it holds a pot of flowers,
I picked them from the garden as I dodged the April showers.
I'd love to clear it all up and put it out of sight,
Sad to say I can't do that our cuboard space is tight.

The answer is more storage room
To make a tidy life complete
I know! my husband takes up lots of space
I'll just get rid of PETE.

Jill West.

Wardrobe Clutter.

Wardrobe Clutter.

I must clear out my wardrobe though
That's really a beautifull dress.
But the last time I wore it I have to admit
I weighed so very much less.

I really should should go on a diet,
I've put on more than a stone,
It happens to people as years advance
So I know that I don't weep alone.

The answer seems to be exercise,
That would put me on the right track,
But my poor little legs won't go too far,
And part of my problems my back.

Pete and I thought of press ups,
I must say that Pete managed three,
I did just one and then I was done,
It was nearly the finish of me.

I'll probably put half those things back
And cross them off of my list
And hope one day soon I'll be thinner,
I'm always an optimist.

Jill West.

Friday, 25 May 2007

Sisters, Do You Remember Burcombe.

My twin sister and myself were born in a little village called Burcombe.
In Wiltshire, England. Very similar to the village in Somerset where I now live.
Sadly my sister Betty is no longer with us but her poem says so much about those
carefree times of our childhood.

SISTERS' DO YOU REMBEMBER BURCOMBE

Do you remember Burcombe? The willow tree shaped like an arbour,
Our big old fashioned stone floor larder.
The apple tree named Beauty of Bath,each wobbly legged new born calf.
Those little leaded window panes, the scarlet runner climbing canes.

The tree lined lane we walked to school,our jumpers all hand knitted wool.
Blackberry staines on childrens lips, old mans beard and wild rose hips.
Snowballs making fingers raw, our milk drunk through a real straw.
When it rained and froze so quickly, every twig was covered thickly.

With ice that sparkled in the sun, then slowly thawed to drip and run.
Bluebell woods in wild array, I wonder are they there today.?
Oh' the summers warm and bright, when we couldn't sleep at night.
The river cool and so inviting, such temptation fish are biting.

Mouth water tasting rhubarb tart, riding on the old hay cart.
Poor rabbits chased it made me cry but how we loved that rabbit pie.
Our playhouse was the flour mill etched in my mind it is there still.
And in my dreams I hold on tight, the wheel turns waters gushing might.

Remember cricket in the field, those homemade bats we used to wield.
"Hows that, your out, I'm not you are," our echoed shouts rang loud and far.
The tall yew tree I couldn't master, six weeks I had that arm in plaster.
It came off just in time for school, all through the hols, yes life is cruel.

So many memories I recall I wish I could record them all.
We moved away to different parts for husbands came to steal our hearts.
Each of us a different way, yet I remember still today.
SISTERS DO YOU REMEMBER BURCOMBE ?.

Betty Barnard.

My lovley twin sister.

Thursday, 24 May 2007

THE LITTLE TREE.

I was the youngest of ten children. My oldest brother was twenty one
when my twin sister and I were born.
So this poem.

The Little Tree.

I was the smallest sapling upon the little hill,
Nine trees grew around me, only three are growing still.
Age and illness slowly claimed them and my shelter then was lost
Cold winds can reach my branches and I have to count the cost.

Our lineage is a family tree, each person is a branch,
So make the most of all of them don't leave anything to chance.
Don't loose touch with loved ones they help to ease your way,
Write to them or ring them, make this a happy day.

The seeds I've shed have taken root, they're growing up around.
They're giving me good shelter as they sprout out of the ground.
The wind is now not quite so cold upon my little hill
But I won't forget my family, some of whom are growing still.

Jill West.

Tuesday, 22 May 2007

Veggies Underdone.

Veggies Underdone.

Who was it who began the fashion for veggies underdone,
You try to spear a Brussel sprout it really is no fun.
It shoots away across the table trailing gravy drips behind,
Then slides across the resturant floor perhaps with escape in mind.

The carrots are like orange sticks you chase them all around,
Just like the sprouts, with nasty tricks they just go underground.
If I try to eat them just to be polite,I really can't digest them
So I'm awake all night.

So please all you chefs out there may I make a suggestion,
Give them a few more minutes and save my poor digestion.

Jill West.

Village Idiot (Please apply)

Please Apply

We've got no village idiot I think it's such a shame,
If you want to apply put forward your name.
You don't have to be clever not very smart,
Just a warm personality with a very big heart.

I'll take your application, come directly to me,
Have some money ready 'cause of course it isn't free.
When I call on you for cash don't give a pause,
Just hand over all your money it's in a very good cause.

I'm planning to build a luxury home
For poor past it poets who've run out of poem.
You'll be Saint Wotsit and get all the praise
And I will live grandly for the rest of my days.

P.S. I want to be where the gnomes and donosaurs
all roam free. (I know the pub's shut but please can
I have another gin and tonic.)

Jill West.

Friday, 11 May 2007

Cherie update.

I wrote this poem about a year ago when the
cost of flying was very much in the news. Things are
changing now and below the poem CHERIE is the follow
up.
CHERIE.

Cherie was a nifty witch and Tony was impressed,
Her broomstick came from Hogwarts she'd pinched it she confessed.
She said "Tony it's a cheap way to get from place to place
and it's really rather thrilling when the wind is in your face."
Her name was Cherie and she rode the fastest broomstick in the West.

She said "everyone's complaining about the costly jet,
The ozone layer is vanishing and Gordons quite upset.
We have to do something about our travel costs,
If we don't you know what! the next elections lost."
Her name was Cherie and she rode the fastest broomstick in the West.

Now Cherie couldn't get Tone a magic broomstick so!
She went to a local store to get one she could tow.
But when she told Tony what she had in mind
He nearly went ballistic he thought her so unkind.
Her name was Cherie and she rode the fastest broomstick in the West.

Tony was so angry he said" I don't want to cause a rift
But I think I'll go to Two Jags he'll give me a lift.
I don't think I'm ready yet, I don't want to learn to fly,
I don't want to join Wilson at that party in the sky.
Not even for you Cherie on your fastest broomstick in the West.

Jill West.

Retirement and getting ready for the American tour.

Tony said "all my packing's finished I've got all that I need,
Socks and suits and shirts and such and something good to read.
I hope you've kept your load light Cherie for I must confess,
When we get to the airport I don't want to pay excess."

Cherie said to Tony "my broomstick I must take"
And those were the words that made poor Tony quake.
She said "It's a handy form of transport, I'm 0n it in a flash,
You have to admit that I've never had a crash"

While looking at the places they shortly soon would be
he said"I would let you take it if it was up to me.
But SALEM is our first stop and to be quite fair,
If you fly in on your broomstick there'll be a riot there.

Jill West.

Tuesday, 1 May 2007

Things Are Never As They Seem.

As I seem to have some U.S. visitors what you
call a trunk on a car is to us a car boot.
We have car boot sales in fields etc selling
unwanted goods (some fabulous some awful)
But there is something for everyone. So,

Things Are Never As They Seem.

She got up bright and early a good start to the day.
The sun was shining brightly as she went her merry way.
To a farmers market a hunky one to find, to do odd jobs
about the house but good looks were on her mind.

All the stalls she looked at had only ladies there,
They were rather rude to her when she made her
meaning clear.
"This is a farmers market but they seem rather rare"
Not one nice farmer to be had, it didn't seem quite fair.

Her car though old still goes quite well, it gets from A to B,
It's just a little short on space, she buys all sorts of things
you see.
So after her dissapointment, she didn't get a farmer,
"I only wanted one she said just a jolly handsome charmer"

She saw a sign along the road it proclaimed a CAR BOOT SALE
So that would be O.K. for her, this time she couldn't fail.
If she could buy a large new boot and attach it to her car,
It would carry all her goods and be the best by far.

In the gate and through the field, she had to pay a pound,
But alas you've guessed it not a car boot could be found,
So it seems the way things are she'll never get her dreams,
As I told you to begin with thigs are never as they seem.

Jill West.

Thursday, 12 April 2007

JACKDAWS.

We live in a beautifull little village in Somerset.There are no
brick built houses in the village. most are built of blue lias stone
quarried locally. The blue grey stone is very attractive.
Many of the houses were built in the 18th centuary but the
thatched Red Lion Inn is believed to go back to 14th centuary.

I like watch the jackdaws on the roofs of Baker street when I
am doing my washing up.In the spring they are very entertaining'
So the following poem.


A Desirable Residence.

"My dear " said Mr Jackdaw, "where would be the be the best,
Now that spring is here at last, to build ourselves a nest."
"Jackie! Baker Street looks super number five's the one we vetted,
Sadly nearly all the others have been securely netted.
If we're going to nest there we must be very quick
Jill and Fred are jackdaw friendly so that should be our pick.

Flagstone Cottage has three good pots, this row has many more,
But most of them have netting now, it really is a bore.
Oh quick! another couple are making for our spot,
It's going to be fight now for that special chimney pot.
Just flap your wings and caw a lot to drive them both away,
You look so fierce when you do that I know that they won't stay.

We'll dance around the top a bit to show our claim is right,
We only want to scare them off not get in a fight."
"Now you've laid two eggs dear, and our nest is feeling cosy
We will raise our little brood here the future looks quite rosy.
The chicks will keep us busy they need lots of love and care,
And we'll reserve this chimney pot for us again next year."

Jill West.


Careless Cone Caretakers

Why are council cone caretakers so careless with those cones,
They're always queing at the roadside causing lots of moans.
They're obedient little creatures, mostly staying where the're set.
Awaiting council workmen but they havn't turned up yet.
Sometimes they get knocked over, waiting patient to be righted
But as I've said before the workforce hasn't yet been sighted.

When you're on the motorway they guide to a chicane
Alas! when you reach the turning place you're in the wrong lane.
You travel quickly ten more miles trying to return
Moaning, sometimes swearing at all the rubber that you burn.
You can't blame those little cone chaps, they really do their best,
So let's hope that when the night comes they will get a bit of rest.

Jill West.

Sunday, 8 April 2007

PLURALS.

Plurals.

The English language is a funny thing
The plural of mouse is mice
The plural of louse is lice,
But the plural of house isn't hice,
The plural of house is houses,
And when it comes to computers
The plural of mouse is mouses.


It's not what you do hear.

When you have a family you have to learn so much
With children playing round you, you have to keep in touch,
Your eyesight gets much keener and you really hear much more
Childrens ways are different, what next do they have in store.

You're doing the ironing, they're laughing paiting in a book,
Then they become quite quiet so you go to have a look.
Painting in a book! no not afterall, they got fed up with that
So they're painting on the wall.

The lunch is almost ready, in fact it's nearly done,
You've said please wash your hands but that sound!
What was that? you go into the bathroom,
OhLord! they're about to bath the cat.

You pick up the cross pussy and get him nice and dry,
Tell them they are naughty, then beg them not to cry.
Every one seems happy now but you don't what might come.
Good eyesight and tuned in hearing is what it needs to be a mum.

Jill West.

Thursday, 5 April 2007

Cuboard Love.

Cuboard Love.

"Do you love me darling"? I asked him with a smile,
He slowly turned towards me and then he paused a while,
"Of course I love you darling" the words fell from his lips."
"So why Pete when I turned my back did you steal my last few chips.


Nice Vice.

You need a little bit of vice to make the world go round.
Although it may not seem to0 nice that is what I've found.
When people have no vices they really are a pain,
They don't seem to laugh much and every daay brings rain.

A little bit of chocolate and perhaps a little drink
That extra creamy biscuit might make your diet sink,
If it does and you get fatter and you might do I suppose
Take your cash and make a splash and buy some nice new clothes.

(That's if you can afford it. If not there is always the charity shop.)

Jill West

Thursday, 22 March 2007

Cry Baby andThe Mower Moral.

Cry Baby.

When Pete came into the kitchen he saw how much I cried.
You see! I was peeling onions and no matter how I tried,
Tears came rolling down my cheeks it made me look so sad,
You see my allergy to onion juice is really very bad.
Pete said "peal them under water, that's the best way I have found
But because I had no snorkel alas! I nearly drowned.

The Mower Moral or Jane's Tale.

It really is a super day I think I'll mow the lawn,
The dandilions and docks and things make it look forlorn.
I'll soon get the mower out and give it a quick crop,
I don't want to cut too close, I do know when to stop.

Oh dear! the bally mowers stopped, it's gentle rythmns altered
It must be the extension lead, that's why it's faltered.
There seems to be a lead loose, I'll just give it a knock,
Ouch! damn and blast the stupid thing has given me a shock.

This was a past neighbour and those were not the words she actually said!.

Jill West.

Wednesday, 21 March 2007

The Crossword Addict.

The Crossward Addict.

When I'm deprived of my crossword I'm moody and mean and I mope.
My temper is very erratic and my poor husband just cannot cope.
I'ts the one thing that gets me going it boots up my brain for the day.
I get on with my cooking and sewing when I've had my portion of play.

When I'm deprived of my crossward I sit and I sulk and I glare,
The sun won't come out in the morning I'm just like a grumpy old bear.
My ever decreasing brain cells are crying out to be moved
I think they need that morning jolt but that's something that can't be proved.

So my cry goes out to the paper shop off crosswords I must have my share
Because crossword deprivation is something I very much fear.

(Crossword deprivation. A severe illness found in the elderly)

Jill West.

No More Mr Nice Guy.

No More Mr Nice Guy

I want to do something different
I'm tired of the things I have done
I'll start a home for retired garden gnomes
I think that would be rather fun.

I'll line them all up in neat little rows
And knit them all smart little coats.
But if they decide to give me some cheek
Grab them all by their sweet little throats.

Jill West.

Sunday, 4 March 2007

Veggie Alligators

Veggie Alligators.

The crocodile has a lovely smile
His manners are really sweet,
But if he comes knocking on your door
Remember he eats meat.

The alligator on the other hand
I believe is a veggie eater,
Just give him an apple he'll be so nice
His manners just couldn't be sweeter.

Jill West.

P.S. Remember children this is just a poem it is not a good idea to feed alligators.

There is a road in our village with several keen gardeners as I write a poem each month for our village news letter this was aimed at them.
Springs Not Sprung.

I had a word with the Church Street mob,
I said "I can fulfill your dreams.
I've something very different here a bag of magic beans.
Go to the allotments, don't forget a spade,
pop in all these super seeds
Your fortunes will be made.

The plants will grow and grow and grow as if to reach the sky.
They won't need Georges fertilizer to make them ten feet high.
I only want two hundred pounds it doesn't seem a lot.
You will reach rich dividends from your allotment plot.

They gave me all their money,it wasn't quite enough,
They said we'll pay more later so I didn't cut up rough.
I'm going to have to leave the village now, they planted all the seeds,
They tended them so lovingly but all they got was WEEDS.

Jill West.

P.S. Some years ago I bought some expensive pansy seeds and only got stinging nettles.

Thursday, 22 February 2007

WELCOME TO MY POETRY BLOG

The Daily Malice.

Any of the daily papers could be called the Daily Malice.
I quick peek inside you drink from a poison chalice.
Really happy , truthful stories are few and far between
If it has a happy ending it's not so likely to be seen.

A blazing inch high headline when discovered to be wrong,
Becomes a small retraction about twenty centimetres long.
If one paper prints a story for a lot of cash
The others all decry it and call the story trash.

I'd like to give them all up and throw them in the bin
But then I wouldn't get my crossword and that would be a sin.
So I skim across the malice and the sportsmen who have strayed,
The stories from the palace, all the boobies they have made.

I go quickly to the crossword, the bit I never miss,
There I wallow for a while and that's my Daily Bliss.

Jill West.