Written During 1995

The Tuesday Bunch

To reach the next stage
prompts a turn of the page.
Courage to listen and willing to hear
facing future uncertain means throwing back fear.

Replacement conductor causes shift in dynamic
producing a view which is more panoramic.
Closeness achieved against common foe
accepting the change we all undergo.

Venomous arguments in prevention
as sickness gains more attention.
Talking by pencils closes the heart
tearing it piece by piece apart.

Offspring in the mind replayed
forgotten feelings now displayed.
Affection and abuse misread
melting into hate instead.

A deafening silence insidiously smothers
not only oneself but also the others.
Letting it out disperses the rage
demolishing with ease the self imposed cage.

Authority figures muffle the voice
generating anger and removing the choice.
Cancer reappears, the cause of great pain
recession now begun leaves everything to gain.

Chained emotions beginning their release
soon there will be a remarkable peace.
Mother’s existence, Northumberland threat presented
leaving the inner Soul severely dented.

Death’s separation on day twenty four
surfaced emotions are left very sore.
Father now beckons for roles in exchange
life has suggested a major re-arrange.

Putting off ‘til tomorrow
what can be done on this day
just leads to more sorrow
keeping others away.

Three years, way too short in their passing
the effects I am sure are long lasting.
The time is now right to move on
for Tuesday’s will now see me gone.

16 January 1995


Here lies Colin, an original poet
a good one too, but didn’t really know it.

Humorous teacher, presenter of knowledge
a sower of seeds in all of life’s college.

The Spirit now searches for a higher thing
reaching for the joy only Heaven can bring.

Here is complete, the self written Epitaph
contact now needs a more advanced telegraph.

31 January 1995

Ode to Roselands

Twelve months in one’s life is remarkably short
for me Ninety Four turned exceedingly fraught.
One wedding and Three funerals were all I attended
relations with my wife are as yet still un-mended.
A twenty year job disappeared overnight
alien feelings emerged, all locked down very tight.

Simon exposed an uncharted vein
brimming with words that helped keep me sane.
Constructive submergence in painful sensation
created a feeling of real liberation.
Poetry provides form for what was once in suppression
discovery of a great medium for my self expression.

Paul re-awakened my trust in my artistic flair
failure is no longer an option I have to bear.
Stefan uttered the occasional pearl
succeeding in slowing my emotional whirl.
Mornings with Jacqui supplied welcome infusion
in finding several answers to my total confusion.

Association with ‘clients’ brought significant gain
greater senses of proportion and lessening pain.
The effect of Louise showed how to release
leaving boundaries intact, leaving others in peace.
Contact with Clive begins the next test
handling disability is the lesson to ingest.

Karen was the Key into unlocking my Soul
the support that I needed in reaching my goal.
She taught me to ‘Go Through Instead Of Around’
these few words of wisdom were very profound.
She ignited the flame of my inner perception
causing great purges of all self-deception.

Now I can fail without any hate
gone are the reasons to retaliate.
Change is adventure, the future enlightening
to look straight ahead is no longer frightening.

13 February 1995


Now, Miss Lisa A. Gibbs, for as her name goes
is undoubtedly the best of all MRO’s
She says first to bend this way, then to bend that
at this point I fall over and end on the mat.

But, once on the table I hand her my trust
as she starts right away with my joints made of rust.
Her fingers dance merrily all over my back
producing a rendition of a sweet sounding crack.

Probing around, finding bits that hurt most!
oh for something to bite (I know, a gate post!)
Tickling it’s not, and mostly un-funny
to get beaten up (do I really pay money?).

Regular attendance has done me real fine
by loosening up my inelegant spine.
The talking we do has had its effect
in drawing out and stretching my fairly bruised intellect.

For me now, the wait, is the stand-in as good?
For Lisa, the road, is the one sign-posted ‘Motherhood’.

19 April 1995