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David C Dawson's blog


Doggerel Posted on Fri, May 27, 2016 10:16:14


All that I love
Is all that is you.
It is everything about you.
Around you,
Within you
And all that defines you.

The essence of you
Touches all that I feel,
That I sense,
That I am
And makes me whole.

The Leatherhead Lovelies

Doggerel Posted on Fri, May 27, 2016 10:13:06

The Leatherhead Lovelies

Lissom, Lithe, Lolling and Languid. A mother and her three daughters.

Lissom Lisanne says “yah” when she can
She just hates to say no, “might offend”.
But if life gets banal, for a Leatherhead gal
She’s gone, no matter whose heart she might rend.

With her lithe, lovely legs
Super Sam simply eggs
On the men who come near.
But with a flash of her lashes
Their egos she smashes
“You’re so sweet, but no thank you my dear”.

Just Lolling around, Sinitra is bound
To get someone to close the window.
There’s the nanny, the cook,
And a gardener, “Just look!
He has the most marvelous torso!”

Languidly drinking a pink gin, Sue’s thinking:
“This man’s the most terrible bore,
I should really say no,
But as a widow
His fortune I’ll need all the more”.

The backbone of England

Doggerel Posted on Fri, April 29, 2016 00:51:52

They call her the backbone of England
Though her own is now crumbling away.
Her hips creak like old wooden floorboards,
And her eyes they have seen better days.

But I could stay in her presence for hours
As she talks of the times that she’s had,
How she danced with the Vice-Roy of India
Or the Sultan of Islamabad.

She has never a cross word to offer,
Nor would dream of a comment to hurt,
Her feet may have slowed to a shuffle,
But her mind remains quick and alert.

She sits in the chair near the fire,
With a warm woolen rug cross her knee,
And watches the young girls with envy
As the young men they wickedly tease.

She could teach them a thing about courtship!
Of the fun that she had when a girl,
Of her coming out dance in the thirties
And her dress trimmed with mother-of-pearl.

Of the summer she met her beloved,
‘Neath the palm trees of Juan les Pins.
On her birthday he asked her to marry,
This adorable, beautiful man.

They were together for forty-five summers,
‘Til his cancer in June ’83
She cared for him all through the winter,
When death from his pain set him free.

She tells it with no sign of bitterness,
This inevitable pattern of life
A man who can love without ending,
His adorable, beautiful wife.

(Written for a wonderful woman I met touring the Galapagos in 2004)