So SAD

In Jan and Feb the frost starts to thaw

The days are much fresher and the nights aren't so raw

In March and April the season advances

the weather improves and the sunlight dances

In May and June the buds start to sprout

The leaves thicken up and its green all about

In July and August warm turns to hot

The rains all but gone and we're liking our lot

September and October the harvest is reaped

The stores are all full and larder is steeped

November December the weather turns dreary

The winter is here and the darkness is near me

The days resemble nights, the sun rises late

The dark arrives early, there's no sense of day

Beer gardens' over and there's little to do

Outdoor sports are not easy too

The elderly die, an unnecessary norm

Chilled to death, can't afford to stay warm

Energy bills increase, boilers pack in

Underused pipes are prone to freezing

Ice on the roads and leaves on the track

Shovelling driveways, breaking your back

It's no wonder the pagans invented Christmas

It's to break up the months where the world seems to dis us

They've give us an excuse to huddle together

To sing and be merry and ignore the weather

Stay all warm and happy as we watch and recite

To not feel the dark, light our houses up bright

and not mind the roads, we've time off from our shifts

and don't worry about the elderly, just bask in your gifts.

Set get down do Clintons and buy me a card

“Merry distraction from the centre of bleakness”

...I find winters hard.

Round our way

It's rough on our estate
most pubs are now closed down
one road in and out
and 15 miles from town

Trends take a while to reach us
were pretty tucked away
most people never leave the place
they mainly want to stay

Lippy kids play freely
near the few shops that remain
we got a cash machine in 2003
we've buses but no train

I could go on about the bleakness
but the honest truth is this
what you never have
you very seldom miss

And growing up I didn't go short
my life was not impaired
I had the best of friends
and good neighbours who all cared

I must reveal my status
and hope that you'll forgive
as I moved away some years ago
so the estate's not where I live

Now I moved for the love of a girl
and not some social crusade
and whilst I'm in suburbia
don’t let my words degrade

Because no matter how far I travel
I'll state where I'm from, and be glad
that you can take the lad from the estate
but not the estate from the lad

Thank you for my upbringing.

Neorisis x of y (Work in progress)

When walking past interesting houses, my eyes I cannot control
They sneakily peak through the window, like some kind of thief on parole
It's not a voluntary action, I have no aspirations to see
It's an inbuilt peculiarity, please don't say it's just me.

If some one undertakes me on the motoroway, I really can't let it pass
Rather than say ce la vie, I drive like a stupid mad ass
I'm aware its an unnecesarry sport, but I must fufil the need
I hypocritically undertake many more to reclaim my two second lead

When eating a meal with various food types, I do it in a particular way
At the start there isn't much method in fact its varied I'd say
But when I get past the half way point is becomes a mathematic feat
food types are divided and measured, two part vegetable to one part meat

Dark matters at the Whitworth

Art has no attachment to duty
Like love it closely allies beauty
It's foundation is rooted in fire and passion
It's visual appeal transgresses fashion

There's art for some that's not for all
A well framed canvass, a back street wall,
carved in wood or drawn in ink
it should get you talking and make you think.

And do not worry about spending your salary
As entrance is free at this art gallery
Some exhibits are freakishly funny
And have you questioning your value for money

Late

Bum on stone and back on gate
I sit alone and contemplate
The arrival time of my overdue mate
And likely cause of him being late

I'm not impatient to be fair
So whilst I really do not care
Its nice to know whilst sitting there
My pal was fannying with his hair

Son to a father and father to a Son

I say with complete circumspect
I love my folks and do respect
the chance they shaped, through love and strife
to give their boy the best chance in life

And vows they made to surpass their kin
to be better parents from within
to show the love they never had
to be a better mum and dad

and so to me to play the same
generation improvement game
I'll do this, I am truly driven.
I'll deliver what they should be given.

I'll be supportive of all their skills
and encourage them to seek out thrills
I'll arrange for social interaction
With clubs and classes they'll get the traction.

I'll watch them sing and perform in plays
and weekends will always have family days
The dreams they have will never be blighted
they'll all be taken to see united

They'll eat out and socialise

Their grand-folks will feature in their lives
they'll feel our pride in work and play
they'll hear we love them every day

And where I fail, I shan't lament
Because I set off with a good intent
And where I failed, my children three
will complete the intended legacy

Back seat passenger

He talks whilst he's on the job
He sometimes comes early or late
He's often 'just pulling up now'
His meter displays his rate

He answers all customer queries
And scores one hundred percent
From the repetition of the questions
You'd suspect this quiz to be bent

Are you starting or finishing?
Have you been on long?
Have you been busy tonight?
Are the lyrics of the customer song

So mix it up next time you board
Ask about his loves in life
If his kids are a continual disappointment?
When working late, does he worry about his wife?

What are his views on euthanasia?
Where does he sit on the euro?
Should we bail out the banks?
Has he ever been to Truro?

What does he know of medieval weaponry?
What does he most admire about Blake?
Has he read the works of Milan Kundera?
Has he ever dreamt but thought he was awake?

You might get an unusual look
You might start a fight in the back,
But it's better to stand out from the crowd
Than sink and blend into the pack.

Train to London

Serious looking men in suits
Women looking sharp in boots
Seats reserved, taken, free
Keep the strange guy away from me

Silent moments, no social try
Watch the blurry fields go by
Catch up on your thinking time
As traffic free you eat the line

H

Self centred vein and bitchy
All of these things you are not
You're intelligent blonde and fun loving
Humorous sexy and hot

Belgium's finest

Had a rough day?
Have the kids gone too far?
Take the edge of your life with a Stella Artois

It's sharp golden goodness
will make you it's fan
consistently delivers like no other can

Ignore all stories
of marriages wrecked

Pull on the ring and get the juice necked.

The headlines of my life

Born in davyhume in 74
To Pam and Malcolm a son
To Gary a brother 7 years junior
Home was a flat across from my nan.
 
The memories are sketchy at best

I'd moved from the flat before turning one
Only 100 yards away
And strangely still opposite by nan
 
It was around the age of 18 months
My behviour as a child changed
Sleep was no longer a friend on mine
My parents lives rearranged
 
For the next year or so
I made my mother weep
My mind was engaged with everything
And I ran on just one hours sleep
 
The neighboorhood would help to raise me
mum slept whilst it was light
Aunty Agnes and aunty Anne did the day shift
And then mum stayed up through the night.
 
Doctors tried all medications
I spent time with child psychologists
Efforts mainly were fruitless
Experts became mere apologists
 
One final throw of the dice
Chances of success miniscule
At the age of two they decided
To send me on early to school
 
The idea seemed to work
Through the day my energy abated
Physically worked out
and mentally stimulated
 
Mrs Reagan was my nursery teacher
In all for near three years
We had a great connection
Formed through smiles and tears
 
Pat Reagan to all who know her
Has cared for three generations
Is still teaching at my primary school
The name nursery swapped with foundation
 
I remember primary school fondly
I loved to make friends and to play
I never had feelings of anxiety
I looked forward to school every day
 
I think I remember all of my teachers

Mrs Cornthwaite, Sheila Atkinson
Sheila Woodyatt,  Anne Taylor, Vera Pryce
Mrs Smith, eccentric Mrs Bernard

Ian Royal, Diedri Stubbs, all were nice
 
Mrs Bernard was one in a million
She had these crazy ear rings
A dog called bonnie and drove a tr7
Played piano and funny songs we would sing
 
She read Ogden Nash and Roald Dahl

with so much passion and conviction
She created new realities
Cratfted on carpet with fiction
 
I remember the fire at the scool

Mrs Bernards room was burnt out
A large section of the main school was damaged
My brown pencil case I'd do without
 
I loved the social side of school
I remember all my classmates
I felt closest to simon Whitehead, David Lowe
Namoi Stanway and Sarah Yates

TBC 

Distant memories

He sits alone and wonders
Of a life that he once knew
Of people real and places near
Are the memories true

Vivid dreams they're not
And whilst they did take place
There's not enough familiar
It's just the faintest trace

It a factual account
Recalled in fading hue
And whilst he cant remember
He knows it all as true

Call me, text me, FB me

It's that god awful feeling
When you notice your pocket feels light
When you've been out of the house for fifteen minutes
And you realize your phones not in sight

You'll only be out for an hour
And half of that times in the car
But still you are undecided
Is driving back is a step too far?

It's a feeling that you might miss that call
The one you're not actually expecting
Or worst still not be able to make a call
As a phone box is out of the question

Or you won't see that status update
From your friend who's not a real friend at all
You walked passed him in a corridor at school once
Granting him access to your soul on a wall

A phone has and always will be
A device for communication
But the thing that strikes you as different
Is the constant update fixation

The idea of not having a device
Is one not many comprehend
It's your camera, photo album, notepad, map,
Address book, toy box and friend

So with this multi-functional Swiss army phone
Our lives have to be sweeter
But there are so many things it will never do
To kiss her is not the same as to tweet her

It's an add on not a replacement
life is much more than an app
upgrade your thinking, download some You time
Avoid this gadget based trap.


Written on my iPhone.
Sent from my iPod

Poor Sir Lyn

It's a challenge in life, I must endure
and it's one I must do on my own
tort but pensive I resolve many battles
when I sit down and thrutch on my throne

Drifting pain free

I am drifting, away from what's real
Through one eye I see a way back
But the comfort I get from this self induced numb
Keeps me away from the pack

I drift through occaissions pain free
From the worry and fear I can hide
But I also miss out on the pleasure no doubt
As no lows brings no highs as it's bride

Improving my lot

The world is just, on the whole its fair
And you get what you deserve
So when you wonder where the money is
You're at the bottom of a learning curve

When you realise success is in the penthouse
And there is no lift to that floor
You'll understand the simple rule,
That you toil if you want more

But you're at the start of a successful journey
From this awakening can commence your learning
With the right set of of tools in your locker
You can realise your potential for earning

Understand that your life is your doing
The results are all down to you
Not to your folks nor your teachers
Not the lost chances you rue

There are opportunities still sat all about you
The biggest of those are within
And there they will stay as potential
Unless you get up and begin

But beginning is exactly that
It's a start and not a solution
Don't be swayed by detractors
Protect your mind from their verbal pollution

Stay focussed on your goals every day
Leave nothing of your time to chance
The first step it the most important one
So take it and make things advance

you're a genius with untold potential
So show it in all that you
Study your field every day
Keep pushing if you want to break through

No one is better than you
Youre an equal of all other greats
don't spend time with the simple
Make all of the masters your mates

Aim high but break it all down
into to stages and realistic steps
Divide symphonies into learn-able bars
And your six pack into small sets of reps

And so as I write this I am learning
And these verses are notes to myself
I'll improve my lot, and reach new heights
In work in family and in wealth

Camping in Cornwall

Tents are magic,
Camping is great
When the weather is clement
And the kids sleep in late.

When the kit is prepared
And you're well stocked with wine,
It's fair to say
that camping is fine

But things feel different,
When you've not got the kit
When the rain beats hard
And you tent absorbs it

When the flash flood delivers
A stream across your floor
And your plastic coffee cup
Sails out of the door

When your cooker provides
More light that heat
Then making a brew
Is no mean feat

When your lilo is punctured
And deflates whilst you snore
Leaving imprints of stones
As you sink to the floor

So what am I saying
What's the point here
I guess it's that like anything
It's better with good gear

So when I get back
Enough is enough
I'm shopping online
And getting good stuff

A much bigger tent
Fridge, port-a-loo
Wardrobe, small toaster
Microwave too

I'm buying a trailer
to stick it all in
And then I'll be set
For comfy camping

And next time we go
We'll be seasoned and hardened
And will definitely stay
Further afield than our garden

Alone but connected

Life begins alone but connected
In the womb a cord provides food
The closest you'll be to another
But existing in loved solitude

In love I am also alone but connected
Attached of my choice to my bride
Still there's a feeling of seclusion
Even though she lays here by my side

Online it could never be truer
Your connected like no way before
And still there's a sense aloneness
That's what happens when you get up at four.

Natural born chiller

I’m not a natural born runner

I'm really not built for speed

don’t get me wrong I like my sport

but I also like a feed

I know it's doing good for my heart

and it will hopefully reduce the load

so despite my urge to do other things

I get out on the road

I'd like to share some observations

and go into the unknown

share something from my psyche

and hope I'm not alone

1) I seem to run my fastest

when I passing a busy place

I some how pick the pace up

as if competing in a race

2) I also find in built up places

I run whilst breathing in

To diminish my bulky profile

and create the illusion of being thin

3) My mind is my worst enemy

and it distracts me in my run

it tells me that I'm knackered

and that I really should be done

I recognise it's voice these days

and I never let it win

but I do find it quite curious

that this critic lives within

4) It doesn't matter how tired I am

at the end of my jogging stint

I always find the energy

to finish on a sprint

5) I sometimes run with comedy

playing on my ipod

but I do think a laughing jogger

as a site is just quite odd

6) If I'm running a circuit with an incline

then I'll tackle the up hill first

leaving the easier back leg

so I can finish on a burst

All these things and more

I ponder when running about

it's probably these oddities

that actually tire me out.

Snip Trip

I like sterility of the doctors surgery
The smell in the air is thick
But it's little consolation
When youre sat there feeling sick
 
But thats not a concern for me today
As I am here on a different dealing
I am lining up a small operation
To ensure that three kids is my ceiling

A place for everything

My brain doesn't work in order
It's just not a linear device
It skips it jumps and it spins back
It's random and so imprecise

So with that duly considered
Why when I put clothes back
Do i arrange my t shirts by colour
Fading from white through to black

The moment before they met - Artist Steve Fuller

Optimistic skies
optimistic hearts
two who cannot be together
but cannot be apart

break form their lives
early in the day
it's no existence
but it's their only way

Scratches

And when I leave my mortal land

what of me to legacy

no memories as my peers gone too

marks but scratches depict me

Marks so feint I won't be seen

unless I start to gouge them now

I need to realise what’s within

And amplify efforts somehow

Spread myself I can no more

and focus now is what I must

like laser on a single spot

before I lay to dust

And what of me shall I invest

how to choose my way

what to stop, or start, do more

I cannot know today

What I know is what I write

and what I too believe

and what a sound mind can conceive

he also can achieve

Change me?

My eyes are tired,
too tired to see
The obvious in front of me
My mind spends time
In other places
And brings to me fragmented traces

If I reflected
And took time out
A sense of things I'd have less doubt
But I am a creature
Who does not think
I do what comes upon instinct

I feel, I know
No reason why
I write things once, no second try
My paint's on canvass
No sketch initial
You'll see my heart not superficial

Would I change
My traits remove
And could my outward face improve
Would my writing improve by letter
And paintings suddenly be better

I doubt it would be my reflection
As after taking close inspection
Of my rhyming introspection
Change to me is not correction

brilliance comes from imperfection

Three is the magic number

My children are my everything
they define why I exist
light my days when I'm home from work
and remind me of what I've missed

Whilst I sit here writing this
they are numbered one two and three
and though at this stage nothing is final
child four I just do not foresee

It is hard to stop producing
when you make such lovely young
good looking, talented and loving
and not too highly strung

But I'm pretty sure I've hung up my boots
I'm happy with my little collection
I've drunk real deep in the well of life
and been blessed with a trio of perfection.

Picking the wife up

I'm sitting in my car Waiting for my wife An activity that accounts for A large chunk of my life She's often running late But she rarely is to blame Things conspire against her Excuses equally lame I think she likes the tension She buzzes off the hurry Takes too long getting ready Ends all things in a flurry She needs some organising Stopping pushing to the max Take some time to plan herself And time out to relax

Perk of the perch

Stooped forward and tense

Eyes fixed on the quiver

Oblivious to anything

That's floating down the river

It's the ultimate in switching off

as I was once taught

that the human mind may wander

but can only hold one thought

And as my mind is only

Focussed on the red

worries cannot occupy

the focus in my head

So if fishing's not your sport

but you fancy stress cessation

perhaps try lighting joss sticks

or hypnotic meditation

But leave me by the water

in the quiet countryside

tackle out, rod in hand

fully occupied

Que You E You E

Queues are quintessentially British

And in them we spend days

Shuffling caffuffling

In Impatient malaise

I'm indifferent about the time I spend

In formal waiting line

In company, or for minutes

And I'm absolutely fine

In queues that move

Or for things I need

I never mind the wait

But certain circumstances I just cannot tolerate

Pushers in and space invaders

really wind me up

Poorly thought through filter systems

Or tills badly set up

Queues from lack of resource

Or caused by lack of skills

Or created by the elderly

Who haven't took their pills

In fact I never realised

When this poem begun

But the only queue I like to be in

Is a queue of one

Panic on the streets of Manchester (August 11th 2011)

I've walked the streets of Manchester

and the sights have not been pretty

as a disenfranchised underclass

has reeked havoc in my city

A marauding mob with only

one thing on their mind.

To get something for nothing

and rob good people blind

It's been blamed on a tragedy

miles from where we live

but the ruin caused in a young man's name

good people won't forgive

The cost to us is shocking

as this boils over in our nation.

The attitude is embarrassing

and has damaged our reputation.

And what you see upon our streets

are not the hard men of Britain.

These are work shy sewer rats

whose lives have gone unwritten.

Or at least they haven't written them

cos they're too feeble to try.

They'll blame it all on immigrants

but they're just stoned and work shy.

They'll blame it on their housing

and that there's nothing else to do,

they'll blame it on their upbringing,

but none of this is true

Don't listen to trite opinion

and lazy arsed deceptions.

You get in life what you deserve

with very few exceptions.

So go back to where you came from,

or better yet a cell

you've smashed a window and carried a plasma

haven't you done well.

Waiting Room

I am in a waiting room

It's an uncomfortable size and is square

Keep your eyes on the posters or floor

Avoid any eye to eye glare

Take your device from your pocket

Read mail or find silent reflection

Do anything but start conversation

Avoid inter-patient rejection

Charity Shield 2011

The charity shield is a no loss game

It's just a bit of fun

But city came out firing

As in decades they've won none

In spite of not much ball

They battled at their best

And in their most important game

Showed vigour and showed zest

They took a two goal lead

And made plans of sitting back

But underestimated

The power of our attack

As players new were solid

And down, were not to lie

As the Stretford end will tell you

United never die

The first came from Chris Smalling

To score a goal so rare

The centre back arising late

Side footing in mid air

The second came from Nani

And only shortly after

The berties loooking glum

The reds were filled with laughter

At this stage it's fair to say

Most of the stadium knew

The inevitable was coming

And the winners wouldn't be blue

So the script was handed to Kompany

Who decided to write a farce

Nani made a solid challenge

And left him on his arse

The run to goal was short

And Joe Hart made no fight

Nani rounded sweetly

Taking victory on the night

So thanks to the noisy neighbours

To leaving us with plenty

For letting us take silverware

Now on to number twenty

Peas

Peas are just majestic
It's not a case of hype
The choice of which amazes me
There are a many type

I don't like garden especially
Theyre sweet, but not my taste
Marrofat are much preferred
They rarely go to waste

Mushy are sublime
And make a chippy work
Sweet in pods are not my thing
The shelling bit I shirk

But the inspiration
For writing about pea
Is the hot and spicy snack
The lovely wassabi

It's like a nut but not a nut
An accompaniment for beer
It's a crunchy nibbly fun sized pea
In a hot spicy veneer

So get yourself to asda
And to the foreign food section
Pick up a bag and indulge yourself
In my Japanese horseradish affection

Fishing the Ribble

Morning mist lifts as on my arrival

The stillness of the water and the air conceals

a flurry of life beneath the surface

An expectant day for fishing

I take a low seat and unfurl

my rod and other essential parts

Keen to be in the water

nevertheless following my drill with precision

The sand martins swirl over the bank

in formation they look like living smoke

twisting as one, a welcome distraction as I assemble

I smile.

I wade into the flow

the strength beneath the still apparent

I take my position in open water

ten yards up from the swim

No signs of life

But eternal optimism and previous successes

tell me today will be a good day

I always set out that way, I mean why else would you go

Bait on hook

underarm toss

float flickers in the current

we are on, another smile

Playing out

When I was a lad,

not too long ago

I played out for a good while

a good while don't you know

Of course the summers were sunny

We had much finer weather

And time moved much more slowly then

And six weeks was for ever

But prominent in my memory

was the freedom exercised

when our parents let us play with friends

and it mainly was outside

We played in local parks

took trips down to the shops

and with no mobile phones

we ran our lives by clocks

“be home for 12 for lunch”

and “home for 5 for tea”

and every now and then

I'd take my mate with me.

With the freedom given and the boundaries pushed

I rolled in tractor tyres

I climbed school roofs, made swings over rivers

Swam in the sewer and lit fires

It's therefore no bloody wonder

that my children don’t play out

I'd like to blame it on bad men

But they've always been about

The things that restrict kids movements

Have on the main been in our heads

We worry that they'll encounter

imaginary dreads

So push their boundaries for them

Let them out after dark

Let them cross a road or two

and play in the local park

my kids are 1, 4 and 9

so things are looking bright

in 12 short years my eldest

can play out of my sight

My Darling Wife

I've had some good friends over the years

in fact some of the best

but of all the friends who've been and gone

by far my wife's the best

I've kissed some girlies too

I've had a reasonable host

but of all the kisses to be had

I love the wife's the most

I've met some funny folk

who've had me laugh and laugh

but none was quite as humorous

as the other half

I've wrote some odes before

expressions have poured free

but this just feels all wrong

with my wife encouraging me

To write something about her

whilst she's sitting by my side

I'm hardly going to reveal that

She's was third choice bride

I'm not about to say

that her breaths a little smelly

she kisses like a dyson

brains rotten by the telly

I wouldn't share this online

in case my buddy's look

oops there goes tonight's nooky

its posted on facebook

Happy Anniversary

Wedding anniversary's bore me

They come round every year

I'm loathed to celebrate another

until they bring more cheer

Beer and cards and presents

and other things for me

the shallow stuff, is what I want

not sentimental twee

Money

Money slips through my fingers

in a way I understand

but in spite of all my grasp of dough

I cannot save a grand

I can see where its all going

but haven't got a clue

of how to stop my wasteful ways

It simply will not do

I have too many hobbies

Too many things adore

I buy, I hoard ,I harvest

I order, I collect, I store

I want too many things

Things I simply need

Because when someone else has got one

Inside me plants a seed

So I'm going to change my fabric

and I don't mean buy more clothes

I'm cutting my cloth more suitably

and delivering a suite of nos

I'm going to start tomorrow

It's not a good time today

As I, am currently winning

Three auctions on ebay

Family

Families are so special

They even pre date time

Your born into one without a choice

no reason nor rhyme

Families can be odd

and the members can be burks

But you wouldn't choose another

in spite of all their quirks

as the family that is yours

has been shaped from gene to gene

and their oddities and talents

are encased within your being

You mother always loves you

and shows you where to go

She wards off poor decisions

And she listens when your low

Your dad he is your hero

He's good at many things

He make you feel so special

with the time for you he brings

Your siblings are a challenge

and drive you round the bend

But the older that you grow

the more they are your friend

They're family because some how

some where in the past

the love between a mum and dad

came together with a blast

And so it's time for you to shape

your family, born and grown

and apply all of the things you learnt

and a few things of your own

They'll always be your babies

and alone won't have enough

so drown them in your adoration

time, support and love.

Camping in Cornwall (Thursday 28th July 2011)

by Craig Thomas on Sunday, 31 July 2011 at 19:17

Tents are magic,

Camping is great

When the weather is clement

And the kids sleep in late.

When the kit is prepared

And you're well stocked with wine,

It's fair to say

that camping is fine

But things feel different,

When you've not got the kit

When the rain beats hard

And you tent absorbs it

When the flash flood delivers

A stream across your floor

And your plastic coffee cup

Sails out of the door

When your cooker provides

More light that heat

Then making a brew

Is no mean feat

When your lilo is punctured

And deflates whilst you snore

Leaving imprints of stones

As you sink to the floor

So what am I saying

What's the point here

I guess it's that like anything

It's better with good gear

So when I get back

Enough is enough

I'm shopping online

And getting good stuff

A much bigger tent

Fridge, port-a-loo

Wardrobe, small toaster

Microwave too

I'm buying a trailer

to stick it all in

And then I'll be set

For comfy camping

And next time we go

We'll be seasoned and hardened

And will definitely stay

Further afield than our garden

Victory in Manchester Day (14th May 2011)

by Craig Thomas on Sunday, 31 July 2011 at 23:28

If a war broke out between the Mancs and the Scouse,

I'd be planning and fighting with blues in my house.

If a battle commenced twix North and South,

I wouldn't hear the accent from the Scousers mouth.

If the red heads in skirts invaded our land,

the Cockneys and I would fight hand in hand.

If the Frogs crossed the waters to spoil our isle,

I'd fight with the celts to protect every mile.

When Europe was set up on by the German stench,

we stood up together and fought with the French.

Lay down your arms you bigoted fools; stop your dividing before stupidity rules.

Lets all stand together as brothers as one, and kick in the Martians, alien scum.

Craig Thomas ©

Dearest Jim

Dearest Jim

Now that you've gone and my sadness abated

I'll reflect on the impact you had on my way

Your quirky word smithery and humour delighted

All who you captured with your jokes and your play

Your cunning mastery of languages cryptic

Your childlike humour crafted with guile

Delighted and pleased me, a boy seeking laughter

Found laughing at you and with you all of the while

I share your love of words and their usage

I too read the dictionary, thesaurus's too

I'm merely a pup, in my efforts and interest

But it did get me thinking of whether its you

Who had an effect of me ever so subtle, 

Your odes and your verses permeated by being

Your loving way and delivery of your language

Is something I one day hope to be seeing

Thanks for the welcome, the warmth and your friendship

Thanks for your boys and the ‘Pardon us’ tent

Thanks for the home brew and deep frozen lollies

Thanks for the memories Jim, your'e a gent.