Lucy's Car, by Dr PseudoSeuss

Lucy's car is bright and shiny,
Lucy's car is nearly new.
Lucy's says her car's a stallion
Fast and wild and powerful too.

Jack's poor car is not so sporty.
Jack's poor car is much more old.
Lucy's car has got the garage,
Jack's poor car's out in the cold

Lucy needs to tame her stallion,
Get her driving skills across.
Show the Mazda who's the master,
Show the sports car who's the boss.

Lucy loves her little sports car,
Lucy thinks it's oh so cool.
But she can't just drive all day long —
Lucy needs to go to school.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Missing you

Because you're not here,
Because I was not there,
Because we were always here and there,
But when it mattered,
Never here and here.

Dog

Expert at lounging, barking,
And getting under my feet.
Liberal with licks and dog hairs,
But jealously guarding snacks.
Panics when family members leave,
Goes frantic when foxes prowl.
A tailful of wags when tickled,
And soppy dark eyes full of love. 

Notre Dame de Lorette

A factory farm of crosses in a field,
Row after row after row, presided over
By twin sentinels, a white stone basilica,
And a 50 metre lighthouse tower. Nearby
In a whitewashed shed, a little worse for wear,
25 quaint boxes, dioramas, with
25 quaint goggle eyepieces, what the battler saw.

He saw massacred fields, all grass gone,
A mash of mud and stones and stumps.
He saw single bodies, one posed peacefully,
On his back, dead eyes seeming to gaze upwards.
Others twisted unnaturally, legs bending wrong
At the knee. He saw open air dormitories
Of the dead, side by side in rows.

He saw the living playing whist, sheltered
By six foot of earth, waiting on the turn
Of a card. He saw unshakable comrades
Hauling their friends through mud, not caring
For shells or snipers' bullets.
He saw hell, the end of things. 

French National war memorial,
Notre Dame de Lorette, near Arras