This morning I was talking to my brother in law about my time in the army. It’s not a thing I do very often. When I do, I recall all sorts of odd facts that have been filed in the back of my memory bank.
This afternoon I saw a youth spitting on the pavement, a filthy, dirty habit I abhor, BUT, it did remind me of something I witnessed as a very young trainee soldier, at the age of 16 or 17.
A couple of lads were marching (we were not allowed to walk!) past the drill square (you stepped onto it at your peril, unless undertaking drill practice). One of them spat onto the square.
Immediately there was a terrifying roar of the Regimental Sergeant Major’s stentorian voice.
“You there! PICK THAT UP.”
And he did!
From that idle thought this poem popped
My mouth is full of spittle and I care no jot or tittle
I am going to spit it out upon the floor.
As my juices flow I find my spittle starts to grow
and, as time passes there is more and more
I know not why it is but my spittle starts to fizz
It is spilling from my mouth and from my nose
So beware if passing by for I’ll spit right in your eye
as I’m covered all in spit from head to toes!
I always thought, when I was young, I wouldn’t live to forty.
My Mother said I wouldn’t do if I was always naughty!
Yet here I am, a pensioner, exceeding expectation
and, now that I’ve passed 69, I look back with elation.
I never thought that I would be a great success in life.
I only wished to have a job, and, maybe, take a wife.
Well, some successes came along, as husband, and as Dad
and very nicely my whole life has left me rather glad.
My Mum, of course, was always right; she often told me so!
Her all surrounding love was great , it gave a warming glow.
She’s now long gone, and so has Dad, and even my big sister.
But memories they linger on, and my, how we have missed her.
So, when I wake up each new day I thank my lucky stars.
I’m happy with my wrinkles, and with my many scars.
My Mum was right. She always was, as I’ve already said,
but wait a bit! I just woke up. Well, bugger me – I’m dead!
I may be quiet,
although not so much inside.
It’s always been so.
Heard this on “Poetry Please” today on BBC Radio 4, read by Roger, the author of this fine poem. It made me think of someone living with dementia, so made me a little sad, but only for a moment or two.
A Poem Just For Me
Where am I now when I need me
Suddenly where have I gone?
I’m so alone here without me
Tell me please what have I done?
Once I did most things together
I went for walks hand in hand
I shared my life so completely
I met my every demand.
Tell me I’ll come back tomorrow
I’ll keep my arms open wide
Tell me that I’ll never leave me
My place is here at my side.
Maybe I’ve simply mislaid me
Like an umbrella or key
So until the day that I come my way
Here is a poem just for me.
Well, some days you wake up and you just don’t feel your normal self … you’re not just there. What have you got to do to regain your Me! … who is this depressing foreigner that has walked into your skin…
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Did anyone notice I’d gone?
and my postings this week totalled one?
Was there anyone there
who gave half a care?
I think that the answer is NONE!
I did find the time for some reading
of stories and facts and hearts bleeding.
I’d add the odd thought
On those blogs that had caught
my attention whilst I was proceeding
We’ve been on vacation all week.
Sun, sea, and the sand we did seek.
We journeyed together,
were lucky with weather,
with only one day that was bleak!
I am what I am,
for better, maybe for worse.
Do not try to change!
BUT I’M ALREADY HERE!
What, awful punctuation there is upon, the screen?
Its’ often very difficult to know just, what they mean
They must; have been to school and: such
If not they Broke the law
Hang on, a bit the screens’ just changed
And now ther’es even more
Apparently my colons in danger of disease.
I thought I only had the one, but anything to please.
There’s hypo this, and hyper that, yet their and there are mixed,
and they’re convinced that all my ills can very soon be fixed.
Forget my moans, my name’s been called, enunciated strongly.
Computer generated speech was used, pronouncing my name wrongly!
I feel unwell!
Today I was working in the front garden. I was digging out Grape Hyacinths and Bluebells that are always threatening to overtake every other plant.
A lady stopped to pass the time of day. She lives fairly close by and I see her often, and wave. Occasionally we have a brief chat.
Today, she greeted me with, “Oh, I didn’t realise that you lived there, so close to me!” She told me that she was Secretary of the local Allotment Society, and how busy that kept her. She also informed me that she had a pacemaker fitted, and how it had given her a new lease of life.
The conversation progressed along traditional lines and then she set off to continue her journey home.
I did not let on that we had had an identical conversation last time she passed by when I was gardening at the front, almost at the same spot.
As she left I said, “I’m Peter by the way!”
She reminded me of her name.
For the life of me, I cannot remember what it is!!
Not just a little late, but over 45 years since I first wrote this in a Valentine’s card. I can’t find the copy I wrote at the time but I have remembered it for all these years. Don’t know what that says about me!
It was sent to my long term, off and on, teenage, and into my twenties, girlfriend whom I shall love for ever!
If you don’t see my name, look at it acrostically.
Prolific enterprises turn eventually recumbent. My attribution turns to hieroglyphics, excogitate what’s said!
I was rather pleased with it at the time!