Moonlight shadow, moonlight shadow
I don’t want to be mantled with you
as cold and unfriendly as you are
chilled with the midnight dew.
I would rather have a sunbeam
clothed upon my shoulder,
little sis will hide her face
unless loving arms enfold her.
We were sitting on a towel
down on Netley shore,
eating bread and damson jam
harking the old men snore.
Sifting through the shingle
in the afternoon sun
“a stone that’s got a hole in it,”
little sis says, “is a lucky one.”
Nobody says the sea is boring
not the sailor, how would he?
he has spent his whole life
traversing ol’ Briny.
Freshing white, the breakers foam
crested billow curl
waves, wave upon wave
beneath sky of blue or pearl.
Locomotive locomotion
still moves from place to place
the song that you were singing here
has left an empty space,
rolling stones no moss gathers
you shall friendless be
living like a bandit
of love and care quite free.
Red carnation
worn upon my heart
will promise that I love you,
we shall never part.
But a daisy in my hair
will warn you, I am thinking
don’t take too much for granted
the amber light is blinking,
ah! if you see a tulip
turned to upside down
you have been rejected
your advance will earn a frown.
I am riding on a serenade
my true love sang to me
his melody my soul treasure
gonna sing the harmony.
Heart beating to the pizzacato
plucked on the viola
saxophone swayed and moving
to the big bass rhythm bar.
Mulled wine winter
cheer, heartwarming,
but little sis is yearning
for the catkin of early Spring.
She longs to dance with daffodils
gelanthus is her friend
when the snow is melted
and winter is at an end.
*
The star of Surbiton
Star of Surbiton
Surbiton is upon Thames too you know,
life is not a bad crack there
a stroll along Queens promenade
October’s nip in the air.
The children are all in the alley
girls skipping hot potatoes
while the boys hit sixes at cricket
hoping not to break any windows.
The Star of Surbiton is a climber
tenacious, she clings to her host
not quite pure white her petals
every anther a lavender ghost
crowned upon by a soft pink corolla
she’s a passion flower like no other,
the perfect queen of suburbia.
A Tolworth Lass is crying,
she has learned that nettles will sting
it is no use in showing your brother
he cannot do anything.
Best take it to your Ma
she knows all about dock leaves
aye and soft words of comfort
while the mucky cure relieves.
You have nevr thrown a snowball there
or caught the bus to Hook,
young ladies ought not to climb drain pipes
laying down over skylights to look.
The people down there are busy,
life is carrying on.
She is mistress of all she sees
a true star of Surbiton.
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Another excellent poem, thank you for sharing it with us all. I love the images in this one. When you talked about the sea, I could almost smell the salt water!
Hooray, it’s always so good to get that first response to a work-you simply don’t know what people think, I enjoyed writing this one, whenever I do a poem like that I think “that’s it, I’ve got nothing left”. then another one comes along. Thanks for visiting. luv Suz
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