“I’ve tidied the bathroom and cleaned to loo
I’ve hung up my clothes and hoovered through.

My sheets are in the laundry bin
I’ll make my bed when I get in.

I’m off to Jakes I won’t be late
Oh the dishwashers full and I’ve stacked the plates.

Here’s a cup of tea mum, by your bed
You have a lay in; did you hear what I said?

I sit up lazily stretch and yawn
This has never happened since the day he was born.

I reach out my hand for my cup of tea
It wasn’t there
I’d been dreaming you see!

© Chris Gray 2006

The vibration of hooves on pastures green,
Tree’s and hedges fleetingly seen.

Nostrils flared, and ears laid back
They race the wind and ride the flat.

Adrenalin courses through their veins,
Contact and trust through lightly held reins.

Faster and faster they cover the ground
Then two become one, they hear not a sound

Perfectly matched the girl and the dun
Win or lose,
They were just having fun.

© Chris Gray 2006

Words dip and soar like swallows under thatch
Tempting and teasing my pen to catch

That elusive genius, just out of reach
Ebbing and flowing like waves lap the beach

Then finally plucked from that great lucky dip
A brainstorm, a sentence, a merry quip

My mind’s cellar door groans and creaks
And words tiptoe out, then conciseness streaks

© Chris Gray 2006

In the early morning before the sun rose
A little green man sat warming his toes
A wisp of grey smoke drifted up to the sky
A blackbird called his warning cry

He was joined by a badger, and a hare with long ears
I hardly breathed, lest they disappeared

His voice sent ripples through the trees
The time was ready for the busy bees

I’ve bought paints for the flowers aren’t I a good fellow
The first ones to colour are white and yellow
Then palest pink, violet and blues
And lastly red, and purple hues

Off flew the bees with their stripy brushes
Their praises sung by warbling thrushes

Spring had arrived and summer would follow
Guided in, by skylark and swallow

© Chris Gray 2007

The ladies that lunch are we
We have coffee and cups of tea
At a table for two we sit
and talk and moan for a bit

We have a light bite
So clothes don’t get too tight,
We discuss hopes and fears
and those we hold dear,
And what we should say
and what’s the best way
to get good results,
And deal with insults
of those we meet every day

One hour is all we ask
to be left to complete this task
And 1 hour is not very long
to sort out right from wrong
But alas with email and mobile
Can we get peace for a while?

No

The demands of our life are so great
We’ve no time to eat what’s on our plates
We are needed to fetch or to lend
or to listen advise or to mend.
We tell them, but it’s no use.
Do we need to go into recluse?
We’re the ladies that lunch can’t you see
we have coffee and cups of tea
So don’t use the fax or the phone,
for 1 hour please leave us alone.

© Chris Gray 2007

Bluebells drift through enchanted woods
they cluster together with magical ease
Indigo blue flanking the glades
covering the ground, and encircling the trees
bowing silently in dappled shade
I tread softly in the misty hues.
As the evening sun lights the way
I wander in to the depths of blue,
walking on to the end of the day
as the night time dew fills the air
their heavenly scent, I infuse
perspective restored and without a care
my mind far away and senses imbued

© Chris Gray 2007

Five thousand words I wrote today
“It needs to be tightened” the teacher says
“Read it again, edit and cut
take out the ands, L Y’s, and buts”

“Could it be published?” I innocently asked
She took of her glasses and started to laugh.
“My dear I don’t want to put you off
and don’t take it wrong, I don’t mean to scoff.
“There’s too much description and no emotion”
So I wrote it again with much devotion

She disapproved and scratched her head
“Somewhere in the middle, I’ve lost the thread
look again at the structure, the theme, the plot.
If you think it’s good, I assure you it’s not”

She said; “write what you know, and what you feel
Think of the characters make them seem real
Writings an art it takes concentration
and there are several mistakes in your punctuation”

My confidence racked my head held low
Creative writing is a definite NO
But the pad and the pen beckoned again
I had to write or I’d go insane

I thought of my character, she wore awful clothes
And her glasses were perched on the end of her nose
She talked as if, in her mouth was a plumb
and walked like her knickers were stuck up her bum
She’s a teacher of English, a bully a bore
her students groan when she opens the door

I read my story to some friendly scribes
I was nervous and scared but swallowed my pride
They gave me encouragement tea and a bun
they made me remember that we write, cause it’s fun.

© Chris Gray 2007