Poem – Do I Believe in Ghosts

I believe in what I have not seen
The power of persuasion can shape, 

What you think you can see, 

As your mind conjures up a, 

Plethora of how can that be.
The brain is just so complex, 

A control unit for our bodies

Translating every movement, word, emotion, 

And holding a library of memories.
Whose to say that as our, 

Imaginations store and play any movie, 

From which we can call upon, 

At any given time to see.
That the shadows lurking in the dark, 

The tale of ghost, demon and jinn, 

Tis not the spirit that is without, 

But that of the spirit we have within. 

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Poem – De Ja Vu 

Have you ever thought that before, 

I have been to this place, 

Or I really know your face.
Somebody has already told me that, 

Or you say I already know, 

But nobody has told you so.
A friend of a friend you see, 

For the first time but yet, 

You think you have already met.
What about I must give them, 

A call find how she’s doing, 

Caller display and she is ringing.
To driving somewhere you have, 

Never been before in your car, 

Yet you know where you are.
Talking to someone and they finish, 

Your sentence or you both say, 

Together the very same word, 

Which just seems so absurd.
A cycle of coincidences so, 

Random and out of the blue, 

A sixth sense or deja vu.
Wouldn’t it be lovely as I, 

Thought of you and you thought, 

Of me what a wonderful, 

Coincidence that would be…. 

Poem – Charity Shop Shopping Bug 

I love a bargain
I joke with friends by saying, 

Guess how much this cost, 

They know me all too well, 

A charitable donation up sell.
A designer handbag a fiver, 

Little black dress with a label, 

Harder to find a nice jacket, 

In a size that will just fit.
Don’t get me started on shoes, 

I’ve had a box full of pairs, 

Sandles, boots and a little heal, 

For any occasion they do appeal.
Some things I have just bought, 

For the sake at a good price, 

And simply are an impulse buy, 

Waste of money as I sigh.
One time bought a duffle coat, 

About two sizes too big and, 

Which was a bright jade green, 

Had to be there to be seen.
As I walked into work wearing, 

The said offensive baggy duffle, 

Full belly laughs looking at me, 

With embarrassment I could see.
I’ve bought shoes too small, 

Squashing my feet into them, 

They’ll stretch bargain 3 pounds, 

I know how ridiculous it sounds.
I used to think it was only, 

Old people and down and outs, 

Who frequented shops of charity, 

And that they smelt of wee.
Now I have what they call, 

The charity shop shopping bug, 

Without fail I’m there every Saturday, 

You just cannot keep me away.
It’s the smell of things old, 

Worn, used and even older, 

Jostling for position out the way, 

This bargain is mine I say.
It’s the thrill of the chase, 

To get something so cheap, 

Rummaging through the charity bin, 

Ooh I love, I do love a bargain. 

Poem – You Say Potato I Say Potarto

You say sweet I say brilliant
I say brilliant, 

When I think its great, 

You say sweet, 

Just a different way we relate.
What a wonderful person, 

My best friend is, 

You think your mate is cool, 

She really is the biz.
Looking amazing in that dress, 

I say to my friend, 

Looking awesome you say, 

That dress is bang on trend.
The results are fantastic, 

She got straight A’s, 

What an epic result your, 

Response to A level grades.
I’m having a fab time, 

That’s what I would say, 

Today has been sick, 

How you’ve enjoyed your day.
What a great concert, 

Watching Beyonce on the tv, 

You think she is class, 

And her dancing is crazy.
From mothers to daughters, 

To fathers and sons, 

Not just a generation apart are we, 

Also speak a different vocabulary. 

Poem – Bad Teacher

As a kid was never the trimmest, 
You could call it puppy fat, 

As I was plump all over, 

Never did anything to change that.
Whilst at middle school I, 

Participated in all sporting activities, 

And was in the sports teams, 

After running was brought to my knees.
All she should have asked was, 

For me to try my best, 

I really did hate cross country, 

As I always came in last.
I really disliked my PE teacher, 

And she wasn’t keen on me, 

After what she said that day, 

Even now think how could she.
Was running down the cinder path, 

As my teacher called to me, 

Nearly last trying my best, 

She did shout come on FATTY! 
After that horrible word she said, 

I came 5th the following week, 

She just looked with surprise, 

Week after went back to 25th. 

Poem – Why do I Feel Sad

As we call time on summer, 

With Winters dark nights so cold, 

My body clock loses its tick, 

And resets itself to hibernation mode.
Even with the buzz of Xmas, 

Which I really look forward too, 

My get up and goes gone, 

Leaving me feeling moody and blue.
I recognise the signs too well, 

When November time is drawing near, 

This mood disorder is ridiculing me, 

By visiting the same time each year.
Like a visit from the unwelcome, 

You cannot help opening the door, 

To the symptoms of the season, 

Whose greetings you simply abhor.
Seasonal Affective Disorder I now know, 

Why I have felt so SAD, 

Learned to live with you and, 

Now I don’t feel so bad. 

Poem – From Lemons to Melons

As my hormones had arrived, 

So did wobbly bits on my chest, 

Like they’d been pumped up over night, 

I had what they call a breast.
I tried to keep them under wraps, 

As my body changed as a teen, 

Was embarrassed I had them, 

And didn’t want them to be seen.
My mum said you need a bra, 

I may have a pair that’ll fit, 

Was a lacy blue A cup, 

Which just covered my little bits.
As I started to get older, 

They just continued to grow, 

Was happy at a C cup, 

In their place not hanging low.
Have had fluctuations in my shape, 

As up and down with my weight, 

From D to C back to DD, 

As they did deflate and inflate.
Struggled to get in a D size, 

Was mortified I’d graduated to an E, 

Mum and sis just fit an A, 

Genetically how can mine be.
Gravity pulls us down to earth, 

Its a fact not word of mouth, 

So to do your body parts, 

As my boobs decided to head south.
From wearing a little black lacey number, 

Holding boobs more shaped like lemons, 

To a nude practical comfortable bra, 

For middle aged droopy water melons.