Remember, Oh well

There no sweetness in his nature, Oh well.

No care left in his eyes, Oh well                                                                                                                      No empathy inside deaf to all her cries,                                                                                                             what lived once has died, Oh well.

Now she begins to fade, Oh well.                                                                                                                       From inside to outside, Oh well.                                                                                                                       With sadness and despair she sees no love                                                                                                       is there her future is elsewhere, Oh well.

He realised to late, Oh well.                                                                                                                          Loneliness his fate, Oh well.                                                                                                                         The love he had been shown laid to waste                                                                                                     in a broken home you reap what you have sown, 

Oh well

Carved Fruit

 

Time flies like an arrow, and fruit flies like a banana

Twice Upon A Time

 

Everybody dies twice, once when they take their last breath as family and friends grieve their death. 

And again when the last person alive who knew their voice                                                                       when in their prime, say their name for the very last time.

                                            

                                         

                                       

Booze and Tobacco

                   Irish whiskey warm and light and "Bushmills Black bush is such a delight.                                   

                   It's triple distilled just one of a few this golden delight is "Tullamore Dew."                                   

                   I"ve drunk Wood's Rum with both of them this winters day, and which is the                          

                   best I leave to be guessed for I can not honesty say.

Fat Old Man

No one fancies a fat old man with long grey hair and liver spot hands who sings along to 60s bands, and talks of life before e-mails when dogs roamed streets and wagged their tails.

We smoked in bars and drove black cars on empty road with horse and carts. The Teddy Boys who looked so smart in skiffle groups with battered guitars, rock and roll and penny bazaars. With cheap holidays to foreign parts, shilling and pence is what we spent the Bernie Inns we did frequent.

Now sitting here with nothing to do thinking back with thoughts of you. Trying to look spic-and -span, but no one fancies a fat old man.

 

I'll aways have Paris

 

From Chateau de Vincennes on the metro I tour and I'm off to see the Sacre Coeur. Then down I go to Au Lapin Agile and ask them to serve me a cafe' noir.

I walk cobbled Rue to find tranquil corners, to look at emporia with objet d'art. Then I stroll down to La Maison Rose and ask them to serve me a cafe' noir.

Avant-Garde Paris was a Mecca for artists, Picasso, Degas, and Henri Matisse. For musicians and poets it was shangri-La, and they all drank Absinthe or a cafe' noir.

Place des Abbesses a tourist attraction with wrought iron arches and an Art Nouveau station. It's a five minute walk to Mamie Colette Bar I sit myself down for a cafe' noir.

In Saint - Germain there's an Art Deco bar with plush pile carpets it's the Cafe' de Flore. I sit on a banquette and light my cigar and then I'm ready for a cafe' noir.

The waiter pristine in his black bow tie, looked my way with a glint in his eye.

 I order my coffee to be served without cream, this did trouble him so it would seem.

The waiter perplexed with his head at a tilt smoothed  down his waistcoat made of fine silk

 There is no creaming the bar, so he said, so he served me my coffee without milk instead.                                                                                                                                                

Closing Doors

 A door closed to a room not used in a house for a young man.

The attic's first to go were memories are kept,

the past is all in there the happiness and regrets, he can't

clime back in for a glimpse so he just forgets.

    Another door closed to a room not used.

The upstairs rooms he liked to roam a bedroom

with soft dimmed lights with curtains and pillows

and other such delights,

lying in his lovers arms with all his world put right.

   That door closed the room not used.

Spare rooms all empty, a nursery no longer used,

the long dark nights with a child that cried

his love she did consume. All the bedrooms quite now,

as quite as a tomb.

   A door closes to a room not used.

The bathroom he could lie and soak in lonely candle light,

and dream of a better future for his children and his wife,

it's all long past now the worry and the strife.

   The door closes the rooms not used.

The staircase lined with photographs of family kith and kin,

with old forgotten faces that look very much like him.

He can't climb the stairs now so the upstairs is shut to him.

The hall leads into the kitchen with memories of morning

and night, fried breakfasts and late night supers and boozy

Saturday night. And party's where they flock together and

put the world to right. It's oh so quite now there's no one

to invite.

   The door closed the room's not used.

The dinning room or study depending on how it was used.

Birthdays and Christmas dinners and holiday brochures viewed.

The table full of school books with facts he misconstrued.

And dinner parties and candle light with friends to be amused.

   Another door closed to a room not used.

A living room to lounge in a warm and cosy place,

he was safe and sound there content within this space.

The vestibule just off the hall a place for hats and coat, 

the door ajar he see's outside dare he step out?

The view from there inviting him to go outside the house,

If he did the door would close of that he had no doubt.