WATERING CAN WOES

I parked my car on a summer’s evening

And strolled homewards to my door.

A boy was playing on the path

So I smiled and walked past him.

The boy chased me with his watering can.

“I’m going to get you wet!” he said.

“Please don’t” I replied.

But he carried on anyway.

So I went inside and Hid

But kept myself dry.

I watched him torment the gardens for a while

Until he went away.

But he left the watering can outside.

Forgotten in all his other fun.

I picked it up and carried it over

To his Grandmother’s back door.

The door was open but no one was around.

I thought about this for a moment,

Then put it down on the step

And left it there.

I hoped they’d find it but then I had a worry.

They would not expect it to be there.

What if in all their dashing about

Someone tripped over it and fell?

Would the boy be punished

For something I had done?

Had my act of thoughtfulness

Spoiled all his fun?

(Martin A W Holmes March 03 2011)

CHAP WITH WINGS (FOR MR COURTNEY)

This might be a tad too twee for most tastes, but it is heartfelt...


Not that I ever met you

But I hear you were a gent

A fine, upstanding gentle man,

And Honorary President.

A known face on the T.V.

With a life of many parts

Then a troubled space agent

Brought you closer to our hearts

But the one I most remember

Carved in my youthful mind

Was a Colonel then a Brigadier

Who weekly saved mankind.

Just an ordinary soldier

Facing such inhuman foes

Always leading from the front

With that ’tache under your nose.

Daleks, Cybermen, the Yeti,

Autons, Axons and the rest

You bravely stood before them

And gave them quite a test.

An animated statue

Might well prove bullet-proof

It still got “Five rounds rapid”

Before a pint in the “Cloven Hoof”

You flew across the universe

To worlds beyond our reach

But still maintained you’d just been sent

To good old Cromer Beach.

Your oldest friend might change his face

To your cries of “Not again!”

You remained our “Greyhound Leader”

With your trusty swagger cane.

You continued to be loyal

To a “Splendid chap, all of them!”

Who’d turn up before the nick of time

And sort out the problem.

Whenever danger showed its face

You’d face it like a man

With nothing but your modest claim

“I just do the best I can!”

Your blood and thunder days

As Earth’s champion are now past

But we knew as long as you were there

We’d be defended to the last.

No-one who ever met you

Has a bad thing they can say

A man’s finest legacy to leave

As he passes life’s highway.

So we all stand and salute you

But miss your warmth and charm

We hope you can depend on us

To keep the world from harm.

(Martin A W Holmes March 03 2011)

Nicholas Courtney 1929 - 2011

HELL’S BELLES

I pulled up at some traffic lights

Waiting to turn right

Then from around the corner

There came such a sight

Three girls in their finery

Heading out for the night

The face paint so perfect

Their smiles pearly white

They tottered along on

Their heels such a height

Their legs barely covered

By skirts tiny and tight

The ensemble’s completed

By hair that’s just right

After going round Angie’s

To prepare for tonight

For that moment they’re happy

They’re already quite tight

After drinking some bottles

Of Angie’s dry white

The night is still young

Their spirits are bright

As they stagger towards

What they hope’s a big night

Ange might wake tomorrow

Feeling something’s not right

The face in the mirror

Could give her a fright

Her lipstick’s all smudged

She looks quite a sight

The hair’s everywhere

And that light is too bright

She’ll look even closer

Thinking back on her night

Trying to remember

When she got that love bite

Those streaks of mascara -

She’d cried most of the night!

Because of their spitefulness

Causing that great big fight

I watched them head off

As I sat at the lights

“Hell’s Bells” was my first thought

“That’s a scary sight!”

Then the lights changed

And I went on my way

Wondered who would be happier

Come the next day

(Martin A W Holmes February 27 2011)

MORE’S THE PITHY

I’d like to be pithy

I want to be brief

But the words keep on pouring

It beggar’s belief

I start with a sentence

I then make it two

I’ll be up to a million

Before I am through

I’ve poured out my anger

My pain and my grief

Transferred it to paper

It’s such a relief

And then there are tales

More happily told

Some memories to share

Before I’m too old

Just keep it short

To myself I’ll say

Then rattle on regardless

The very next day

I’ve thought for a while

That I’d like to be curt

But pithy reflections

Can’t handle my hurt

I just witter on

Rejecting the terse

Although sometimes it works

When I try it in verse

(Martin A W Holmes February 27 2011)