The ocean roars and waves do crash,
Endless blue, horizon smash,
A symphony of power and might.
A wonderland that's out of sight.
Sea foam dances, seagulls cry,
Seashells scattered, treasures lie,
Beneath a sun that's shining bright.
The ocean's beauty fills my sight.
But danger lurks in depths below,
The ocean's mystery, we'll never know,
Where creatures great and small take flight.
An endless journey, day and night.
Swimming in an outdoor pool,
drinking from a fountain,cool;
Swings and slides in childish fun ,
summer picnics in the sun;
A Sunday Brassband trumpet call,
in open spaces enjoyed by all;
Bowls and putting on the green,
in the Vale Park 'the 'place to be seen;
Leisurely strolls and chat,
forties style,now so very 'old hat'.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Five stones
school caps
pooh sticks
film flicks
short back
and sides
mangles
oil cloth
braces
plimsole
dripping
and toast
satchels
school milk
cut-throat
razor
coal fires
and draughts
She was a forties woman thrown into another era
We had no idea that she wanted to be a para
She was dressed exotically with a veil on her face
Her hair would have reveled an alien’s in space
She was a forties woman who appeared shy and kept quiet
No matter how crazy our children, even if they caused a riot.
We would not have known her name if she had not given us a resume.
She maintained an even-keel status each and every day.
She was a forties woman who babysat our children and more.
The last I counted she was watching up to eighty-four.
In between watching she liked to wash and iron clothes.
Where this freak came from, none of us knows.
How many remember the crooners from way back
Frankie Boy, Perry, Der Bingle, and the King, Cole Nat
Little Richard, Deano
They were the cream
Brings tears to my eyes to remember the pack
CHRISTMAS PAST
Each Christmas we all gathered there,
‘Aunt Clare, has more room ,after all’ with
her trestled tables and chair.
Grown-ups swigging their brown bottled ale,
young-uns, lemonade with paper straw,
VE style parties, once more.
Lunch over, the voice decibels rose,
raucus laughter oiled by the beer
brought forth more plates of festive cheer.
Cards slid noiselessly over the American
cloth, copper coins switching from pot to pot,
enthralled children watching on, ‘til
banished with a special treat, to the cold
stairs, or now bare front room, or to play
out in the deserted twilight street.
Every year the ritual was much the same,
a family ‘bring and share’ , long before
such gatherings were given this name
Enough of being lazy all these years,
Get up and just do it!
It’s time to move your soul,
Get up and just do it!
Take your clothes off,
And look yourself in the mirror,
Hate yourself for those fatty layers,
Get up and just do it!
It’s time to change your habits,
Instead of turning to your alarm clock,
It’s time to clear that mental block,
Get up and just do it!
Stop throwing around reasons,
Stop considering circle a shape,
Stop pampering yourself mate,
Get up and just do it!
Enough of those bull,
Life is beautiful and short,
It’s good to strike the iron when hot,
So, get up and just do it!
Nothing proud about being fat,
It’s ugly absolutely unhealthy,
Pump up some iron; its worthy,
Get up and ing just do it!
We never thought of how smart we were
or where life would lead us
as long as it liked us
and then the baby was born,
scorn and derision
a black and white commercial
a break from the tedium
and talking of them
we couldn't be them when
we were too busy being
us.
(The race was always on.)
Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarre, Rita Hayworth, Lana Turner
Stars of the forties, how many can remember
What century am I from
Was in love with every one
Much too young but old now and wearing dentures
The Big Bands of the forties, I loved them all
Glenn Miller, the Dorseys, Arty Shaw and Les Paul
They were so smooth
And quite raucous too
Collected their 78s, I certainly had a ball
The best Christmas gift I receive each year
Is love, simply pure sweet affection
What could possibly be more cherished than that
It's the meaning of Christmas on reflection
Too bad this feeling doesn't last the whole year
What a joyous world it would be
Dream on little fellow, you're a wee bit delusional
You're sounding like a nostalgic retiree
The world has changed and not for the better
It's just a personal opinion I quote
Gone are the days of warm Christmas visits
Bearing gifts under big overcoats
Each generation has it's own treasured memories
Today's kids will remember theirs fondly
But ask anybody from back in the forties
They'll say those were the best, by golly
© Jack Ellison 2013
~Lost are our beautiful starlets in the early forties
In full garb, signs of their times, dancing tipping toe prancing their stance
Contrasting our times, no cleavage revealed , but legs were bare
For: Rick Parise
Contest Name: May I Have This Sijo Dance
Along narrow streets,carol singing
Boxes rattling,lanterns swinging
A stocking hung for Santa to fill
waking too early was a thrill
Chicken killed as a special treat
Finding three-penny piece in our sweet
In England ,in our area at least this has not changed much in 60+ years
the 'chicken' maybe a turkey or a piece of beef even,the thtree-penny pieces are now 5p's
There is still street carol singing,albeit now for charity.
Sour
milk in summer,
damp clothes in the fall,
wollens lightly scented,with white
moth balls!
A
high tea-
eaten off
American
cloth
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