Best Bright As A Button Poems
They tell me I was a most annoying child, not good looking like everyone else's son -
ugh! nor bright as a button, but the 'thick' one. One of those who just tried to help
both teachers and pupils, to do things the easy way, or so brainless or bored not to do
anything anyway, anything at all. After all one cannot be criticised then? - you bet!
So, here am I and I try to write a poem on my faithful laptop so that my mediocre
ideas (that good?) but crystal clear English (yeah right!) before accessing the best
poets' website I have come across - and then I - UR!!!- run out of time blaming my
baby boomer typing mis-skills and you dear web bosses that are only doing your best
with a Peter pest, trying to help, trying to do better so his better becomes his best.
Let's hope that when my poem goes online my gentle critics will see I aspire to play
poetry like cricket - damn I was absolutely crap at playing the the poetry of leather
upon willow so unlike that New Yorker Joseph O'Neill, who probably bowls a Yorker too,
with his trinity of Irishnes, Dutchness and Americanism souping up as 'NETHERLAND'
please intercede for me to type faster or have more time to jot down these musings as
I know you do LOL at my poetry. Please, please be patient and so gentle, gentle my
esteemed fellowe poets in this our republic of letters by stirring it hot and meaty fit for
any rhyme royal.
I won a basket of lavender goodies on a local raffle
It bought a smile to my face
And bought back many memories
Of a lovely lady I once knew
Her husband was a retired GP
She had Parkinson’s Disease you see
She couldn’t be left on her own
He would get on the phone and I would run
She was 83 years old and as bright as a button
I would ‘granny sit’ for her to keep her from harm
Her favourite scent was lavender, and I would always hear her say
Can you get the lavender water for my hands today?
I would gently rub the water onto her gnarled hands
She would smell the sweet scent and smile
And tell me stories of her life
Of happy times and tragedy, the hours spent would fly by
I would hear the same stories time after time
Her mind would wander, but I didn’t mind
I could smile and laugh at the appropriate place
She would shed a tear and I would wipe them from her face
The tragedy in her life was her daughter Rosamund Yvonne
She was born with Down’s Syndrome – even now I can still see her smiling face
Her photo took pride of place on the grand piano
We would look at that faded picture and the old lady would smile
Her daughter passed away at five years old
But still the stories I was told every day
If I smell lavender now it brings back many a memory
Of that lovely old lady and Rosamund Yvonne
THE BALLAD OF MISS DUTTON
Little Miss Dutton,
Bright as a button
Sits with hands in her lap just so
Neat and petite,
Friendly and sweet,
With little girls all in a row
Quiet and demure,
Polite and pure
She teaches girls how to behave
Not like the rough boys
Scuffing shoes, making noise,
Shooting guns, the things little boys crave
But little Miss Dutton
Bright as a button
Has a secret, her own rough boy
Though with her he is gentle
He's a force regimental
Has a gun and it's not just a toy
They'll live life in clover
When this trouble's all over
But meanwhile they'll make the best
Who can say what's to be
Before the world is made free
'til then hope that their lives are blessed
Little Miss Dutton
Bright as a button
Today has an extra bright gleam
For one sacred day's leave
To themselves they can cleave
Live each hour in a blissful dream
They have sworn true love now
And he's made solemn vow
To return when he's finished his chore
He tries fears to dispel
Kisses fondest farewell
Then he's gone - and it's June ' 44.
Little Miss Dutton
Bright as a button
Sits there now and a sad smile she yields
But for him it's all over
He touched the clover
Now at peace in a Normandy field
Quiet and demure,
Polite and pure
Girls follow in every way true
Not like the rough boys
Scuffing shoes, making noise,
Shooting guns - that's what little boys do.
This poem tells a touching story, contains a message, and has rhyme and rhythm