Long Distance Love…



Hello mother and stepfather,

Here I am at Bristol harbour,

It is raining, I’m not complaining,

But it makes moving even harder.

Got my room in the hall,

It is cosy, but quite small,

Miles from Uni, my legs are puny,

I don’t think that I can walk at all!

I have no cash, I’m not flash,

I need my grant for beer and hash,

Can you send a takeaway?

Or I will have to live on beans and mash.

Soon be Christmas and I’ll be home,

Now dearest mother I heard you groan!

Buy some gin, it’s not a sin,

I’m sure you don’t want me to be alone.

Now I must go, and see my tutor,

No more games on my computer,

Must not be late, or hesitate,

I am working towards my future!


Sty Eye…


Oh no I have a sty in my eye,

It really stings it’s making me cry,

My mother said ‘Bathe it with tea,

Cold and strong that’s the key.’

Well I tried to balance the bag on my face,

But the tea bag split, and I looked a disgrace,

Tea leaves like freckles all over my nose,

Lovely brown stains running down my clothes.

I think next time I’ll let it itch,

I’ll probably develop a bit of a twitch,

But at least I’ll be clean, not covered in tea,

No more reading at night for me.

Breakfast Bar…

breakfast bar

My kitchen is just lovely it has a breakfast bar,

My husband knocked it up he is a superstar,

Now the kids can eat whist I pop up the toast,

I can even make a cuppa, I am the perfect host.

I no longer need to run, to the dining room,

My world is full of smiles no more doom and gloom,

The floor is easy clean, the stools are nice and neat,

It really is superb, a lovely place to eat.

Now I want some tiles and a nice new sink,

I’m sure that he could do it before I even blink,

Maybe change the cupboards, add some shiny taps,

Let’s not go to mad, I don’t want him to collapse.

And did I mention the bathroom, it needs a nice new suite,

And maybe underfloor heating for my chilly feet,

I’ll write a list of jobs and leave it on the wall,

And maybe he can do them afore it is nightfall!

Hiding Under The Bed…


I’m writing this poem from under my bed,

A place of calm to where I’ve fled!

I’ve found some dust, a pair of drawers,

Does no one vacuum these dusty floors?

I must be quiet or I’ll be found,

The kids can hear the smallest sound,

But wait I see a pair of feet,

Painted toes all nice and neat.

I try not to cough and be quite still,

Being on my own is such a thrill,

I don’t what them to find my hiding place,

I think I’ll make it my secret base!

I’ll leave a book, maybe some food,

Hang fairy lights to enhance my mood.

I hear a voice calling for me,

‘Where are you Mum, I want my tea!’

I heave a sigh and give up my space,

And plaster a smile upon my face,

‘Coming!’ I shout as I wriggle free,

No more dreaming under the bed for me!

Scratchcard Dreams…


I scratched away my hopes and dreams,

On a ticket from the shop,

I scratched it with a golden coin,

I thought my heart would stop.

But alas, alack I dreamed in vain,

Of the riches I could win,

My thoughts of diamonds truly crushed,

My money’s wearing thin,

No more I’ll gamble on impulse,

Spending to extremes,

I understand the lottery is…,

Tax on a poor girl’s dreams.


Paper Money…


My uncle used to slide, unto my little hand,

A crisp note made of paper, with £5 round its band,

My Mother used to tell me, it wouldn’t buy a toy,

And she would swap me coins, I think it was a ploy,

She pocketed the note a smile upon her lips,

And then she sauntered off, to buy us fish and chips,

It’s only now I’m older, I’ve realised the trick,

I’ve tried on my kids, but they are far too quick,

I wish I’d kept the note, tucked gently in my fist,

I’m sorry Uncle Bert, you’re really truly missed.