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Cheryl Darby Poem
Spring and the great reveal!
Winter is now in full retreat,
those darkest days of rain and sleet,
the clouds will part, as if cut by knife,
the sun warms the earth to beckon life
I throw back the curtains in every room,
to let in the rays and light the gloom,
but then as I blink and my eyes adjust,
I recoil with horror at all that dust!
Spring cleaning is a chore I hate,
but it must be done now, it can't be late,
I mop and dust and polish with wax,
I can't sit in the sun, no time to relax
Now to the kitchen, where I cater,
to remove the dust from the radiator,
down the side of the oven, a treasure trove,
a forgotten chip and a garlic clove
Every room is brought up to muster,
thanks to me and my big yellow duster,
my muscles ache, my energy's sapped,
my face is aglow, my hands are chapped
I think I've finished, but no, wait,
I glance outside beyond the garden gate,
a rusty barbecue, and a lawn full of weeds,
a fence that needs painting, and sprouting seeds
Forgive me if I don't welcome this season,
the work it brings is beyond all reason,
I prefer the winter, the storms and the ice,
curled up with a film and some chocolate that's nice!
Cheryl Darby 2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
What Does Maisie Smile About?
(or A Tale of 3 Ladders)
“I wonder what Maisie smiles about,
when she stares out of her window?”asks Jane,
the new carer at St. Mary's, is curious,
about the aged figure watching the rain
Maisie is deep in her thoughts today,
“Maisie, Maisie”, her Grandpa cries,
“these ripe apples won't pick themselves you know!”
and up the long ladder her young legs rise (1st ladder)
Autumn, in the golden orchard of yesteryear,
the warm setting sun, the birds and the bees,
the grown ups, all so merry with chatter,
Maisie and friends, all playing at ease
Such happy days of Autumn sun,
of foraged blackberries and apple cake,
of sweet plum puddings and then,
apple with cheddar in the same bake
The adults, merry now, and all a dance,
the tree house ladder calls the young throng, (2nd ladder)
the boys scatter 'jacks', the girls make 'cat's cradle',
then all descend to skip in time to song
This is what I reminisce about,
and my time is far from past, you see,
I hear them, calling me, up that final ladder,
“Maisie, your young legs will soon be free!”
Not long now, as I grow so very tired,
I will shed my 'costume' of aged joints so sore,
and return again to the young girl that I really am,
and sprint up those ladder rungs once more! (3rd ladder)
Mrs Cheryl Darby 2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
Irish
'When Irish eyes are smiling',
sang the midwife, gleefully,
as she handed me a bundle,
and revealed that it was 'She'.
A baby, with the darkest hair,
blue eyes, that shone like sea,
here lay this little person,
blessed with Irish ancestry.
A girl no longer now, alas,
she's long since flown the nest,
so I replaced her swiftly,
with 2 Greyhounds, I don't jest!
Faye Shannah and Pigalle Blue,
an Irish racing pair,
but you can safely visit me,
unless you are a hare!
You could come for coffee?
and bring a Cake to finish,
actually, I love real ale,
but never, ever, Guinness!
Cheryl Yvonne Darby (Cyd)
23/02/2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
Inspired by walking on Watergate Bay in North Cornwall, England
Admission fees: Seniors free – Adults free – Family Pass free
My beautiful Atlantic muse
of deepest, turquoise blue,
roaring forth your issue
newly crowned with champagne hue
The sea’s explosive theatre
devoid of human hand,
such a beautiful creation
of faceted golden sand
Closed eyes and salty lips
quenched in the sun’s embrace,
no need for riches here
in Mother Nature’s grace
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
Trying To Join My Pathway To A Greek God
16 years old and full of hope, it's 1977
I began my journey to college by bus
From a sleepy little village in Devon
Excited new students jumping on board
But then, I was transported to heaven
A gorgeous young man with sun kissed hair
Sat down beside me, after paying his fare
He had a swimmers' physique with golden tan
Surely a Greek God and not merely a man?
His Summer was spent on the River Teign
Which had bestowed him a body so very lean,
Broad shoulder muscles filled out his shirt,
I do hope at college they'll teach me to flirt!
The next morning I save him a seat and then wait
Alas it stayed empty as he preferred Kate,
The natural blonde with a model's figure,
Oh how I wished that I had grown bigger!
On icy mornings he even gave her his jumper
I wished I could wear it, and prayed that he'd dump her
But he never did, and my college course finished
Our pathways parted, and my love diminished
Years and years later in 2002,
When I was selling the tickets to enter the zoo
A man who was next, he asked for a single
My heart did a skip, and a thump and a tingle
There was something about him that I recognised
Yes, it was my Greek God, I remembered those eyes!
But nothing else I could see was remotely the same
No muscles, no shoulders, and no hair to tame
He wore a Man United shirt, stretched over his tum,
Covered in tattoo's even one that said 'mum'
His flip flops worn flat under his weight
Three quarter length shorts and a shuffling gait
That was the boy that had made my heart pine?
He had chosen a pathway so different to mine
I chuckled to myself and sighed with relief,
To be happily married to a man with some teeth!
Cheryl Darby 19th April 2015
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
The Gift of Healing
A friend of mine is a 'healer', of the spiritual kind,
She uses Crystals, Incense and concentrates her mind,
To channel all her energies, to bring you some relief,
She can heal your spirit, without need for your belief.
I too can heal I told her, with a little twinkle,
But I use pies and sponges, and a little sprinkle,
Whisking up my sugars, creaming them with dairy,
left on every doorstep, from the 'Baking Fairy'.
The recently bereaved, the lonely and the ill,
My offerings soothe their soul, better than any pill,
Just one or two slices, from the sweetest cake,
And made with my compassion, a Spiritual Bake.
So, if you're sad and lonely, or have chicken pox,
You may open your front door, to find a little box,
Open up that ribbon and take a slice of tart,
Made with love from me to you, to lift your heavy heart.
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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Cheryl Darby Poem
How to judge a book by it's cover
My early morning dog walk is usually enjoyed alone,
Although I'm still attached to my busy mobile phone,
But ahead of me today, a scruffy, unshaven man, appeared,
With earrings, rocking back and forth, above his grubby beard.
I judged him
This 'urban commando' dressed head to toe in camouflage gear,
His top half wrapped up against the rain, but the bottom, I fear,
Was in warmer climes, flip flops and knee length khaki shorts,
His tattooed calf was on display, ah, so that was the reason, I thought.
I judged him
On entering the narrow lane, he suddenly turned to face the right,
His hands began rummaging through his under clothes, what a sight,
Fearing that he was about to answer a call of nature, in full view,
I politely coughed, he glanced at me, but resumed his grappling through.
I judged him
Eventually, he found his prize, and making a space in the hedge,
He crouched down, and gently placed his find on a ledge,
As I passed, I strained my neck, in order to solve this mystery,
The man spoke, “dried meal worms, for the robin's breakfast, you see”
And he and the robin judged me
Copyright © Cheryl Darby | Year Posted 2015
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