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Michael Pudney

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Leominster, England, UK

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Illusions such as these

by

Michael Pudney

Though many years have passed us by,
And many splendours I have seen
I’ll always want to travel back,
To where the garden was so green.

Roses grew and flowers bloomed.
Swallows swooped above the hills
Rabbits played in distant pastures
Kittens watched from window sills.

In the grate a fire was roaring.
Fresh coffee filled the air.
And even after all this time
I wish I was still there.

The years may tint my glasses
And cloud my memories.
But an old man, can sleep sound at night.
With Illusions such as these.

Dreams and Wishes

by

Michael Pudney

I wish that she would visit me
When I sleep alone, at night
She would climb in, and cuddle up.
And set my dreams alight
I would not try to ask her
For a sexual favour.
It would simply be enough,
Her presence there to savour.
And if I were to wake
At an, unearthly hour
I'd think that I were dreaming
Such is her beauties power.

I'd never want to wake her
Precious moments, should not end
But I'd try by telepathic thought.
My love for her to send
Her scent upon the pillow
The indentation that she made
In my mind, will last forever
Though its realness would soon fade
When I climb the stairs, each evening
I know she will not come
But it does not stop me dreaming
And that is half the fun.

Truth or Lies

by

Michael Pudney

How definitive are truth or lies
Or do they, just state a view
If the opinions shared, by many,
Has this a bearing too.

Can you think with independence?
Not always following the crowd.
And when your thoughts are questioned
Learn to still stand proud.

Avoiding the temptation.
To waver, in the face of doubt
To walk away from conflict
And let others work it out.

Allow hysteric masses,
To shout down what you feel.
If you choose, this option,
Your soul, you let them steal.

Stand up for all your freedoms
Defend, what you believe correct.
You may not win the battle.
But your heart, you will protect

The Mist will clear

by

Michael Pudney

Make your wishes, retain your dreams
The sun will shine, Its golden beams
The stars will make your dreams come true
Because your heart is strong and true
Be not afraid to search your soul
Or reach out for, your distant goal
For what you seek is very near
Just wait and see, the mist will clear

The Climber

by

Michael Pudney

When you start to cimb a moutain
You vow to reach the top.
Through wind and snow and blizzard
You will climb untill you drop
The pinnacle the summit,
Is your eventual aim
You will not be defeated by,
Fatigue or hurricane.

But when the climate changes,
You'll begin to ask yourself
Do I wish to die here
Perched on this fragile shelf
You talk to other climbers
about the wisdom of it all
What would be the outcome
If one of us should fall

Although bravado pushes you
You relent and face the fact
To carry on regardless
Would be a foolish act.
Its not that you are cowardly
Or not prepared to face the pain.
For the bravest of the climbers.
Will retreat and start again

Noahs Noose

by

Michael Pudney

I think if I was noah and asked to build an ark
I'd get the thing constructed and find I couldn't park.
The animals would all come in, abliging 2 by 2.
But within a week they'd shout, who the hell are you.

Some days I'd want to throw, even cute ones overboard
And curse the fact that I received, that message from the lord.
They'd whinge about the weather and the quality of hay
And my butchest biggest elephant, would turn out to be gay

when I try some magic, to entertain the throng.
My Doves all hate cramped spaces, and the charming goes all wrong.
I don't know why I bothered, to help this motley crew.
Noone ever asks me, what I would like to do

I wanted just to help a bit, and guide them on their way.
I thought that if the rain would stop. We'd have a sunny day.
I heard it would be forty days of rain and cattle Dung.
But even after several months, land Ahoy has not been rung.

The horizon seems to offer an element of hope.
But I'm not entirely certain, that with to much more i'll cope.
But i'll climb up to the crowsnest, for a long last final look.
And if I do not see that mount, the goose I think i'll cook

Last Breath

by

Michael Pudney

When I draw on my last breath, I'll know that I met her.
The one that I wanted, To build my world around.
And though others may come, Along to distract me.
I know that my true love, I've already found.

She was my sun in the thunder, Of lifes imperfection.
Providing the daylight, if dark clouds should appear
I will strive to achieve, and try to be happy.
But my life has no meaning, when she isn’t here

A message to a teenager

by

Michael Pudney

Feel the wait of empires, Resting on your shoulder
Know the climates changing,But your world still feels much colder.
No mirage in the sand dunes to fill this emptyness
U cannot turn to jesus, without some sin, you must confess.
Some guilt or some betryal, would be easy to explain.
Rejection or resentment, could give reason to complain.
without a sense of something, that explains your mood.
Its easy just to come across, as obstinate or rude.
The little things that irk you, might pass others by
A sad film at the cinema, you find will make you cry
The pleasures that you had before, no longer fill the gap
Maybe you would benefit from a well aimed short sharp slap

Nobody understands you or the way your body works
You think you are surrounded by a bunch of stupid jerks
What you must consider is, that we have all been there
And the people you despise right now really truly care
They want to be supportive, and help out the best they can
They want to try and help you through, to your eventual plan.
If you could, only let them in, explain your confused feeling
You may find that their company, is slightly more appealing
You do not have to grow so fast, be an adult quite so soon
You can still blow kisses to, your boyfriend in the moon
You can still believe in Fairies or be scared alone at night
With your mixed emotions, you do not have to fight

Yucky Tummy

by

Michael Pudney

Your mummy tells me you’re not well

This made me very sad

You have to spend the day in bed

Which must be really bad.

But its good you have your Mummy

To make sure you’re ok

She’ll give you lots of cuddles

And your cold will go away

Tomorrow when you wake up

I’m sure the sun will shine

You will not feel so Yucky

I think you’ll feel just fine

Family Ties

by

Michael Pudney

When I was young my parents taught me

Treasure family most of all

For even if the miles are many

They will catch you , should you fall

And as we grew and dissipated

Found our feet and spread our wings

I forgot the things that mattered

And how much joy, our family brings.

If I could have, my time all over

I wouldn’t really change that much

I’d still be rash and mad and stupid

But I’d try much more, to keep in touch

German interlude

by

Michael Pudney

Es ist irrig, hoffen auf das gluck
To dream of that romantic look.
To walk on beaches, holding hands
To make the most, outrageous plans
To fly to places far away
Where rain or snow, won’t cloud your day.

Antreffen das madchen, unt sich verlieben
To laugh and to smile for no special reason
Walking through markets, all day long
Sitting on buses sharing a song
Seeking shelter, out of the rain
Wanting to kiss, but nothing to gain
No plans to return, or even to meet
The dream its is over, so I must retreat

The Daily Grind

by

Michael Pudney

Each morning, I sit at my desk
Surrounded by, a dreadfull mess
Papers , staples , elastic bands
An Empty cup beside me stands.

My screen it stirs up, into life
And I prepare, for yet more strife
Customers, who do not pay
Staff, who do not want to stay

The things we bought, are not yet here
Parts we have, will disappear
Fax machines, that will not copy
All these things, could make me stroppy

But I look towards the day
When once a month, I get my pay
And then, for just an hour or two
My job won’t seem, so much like Poo

At 5, I’ll rise up to my feet
And go and buy, myself a treat
And think of when, I can retire
And put my feet up, by the fire

Self Pity

by

Michael Pudney

Wallowing in self pity and desperation
Will lead my friends into frustration.
For they never asked to be included
And in this way there lives intruded

My fears and doubts aren’t of their making
I can see their patience breaking
I want to trouble them no more
SoI draw the curtains and close the door.

I cant repay the faith they’ve shown
Except by leaving them alone
To live there life without pollution
From the stench of my ablution

The Actor Part 2

by

Michael Pudney

Dim the lights, my story's done.
No final show or extended run.
No call to take a last encore
No crowds that call out more more more.

I'll shuffle off the stage alone,
No carriage waits to take me home.
No big red book or bunch of flowers.
No party to the early hours

If I could have my time again.
I'd skip the pleasure and the pain.
I'd choose my parts with far more care.
My little talents i'd not share

I woundnt try to harvest laughter.
Frighten by the silence after.
For when they've seen the sketch before,
Your just not funny anymore.

A sad and lonely washed up fool.
Whose not considered cute or cool.
Who has no value, or real worth.
And can nolonger garner mirth

So I'll disappear without a sound
I hope my memoirs will be found.
To tell the world of the, true me
Not the failure they now see.

Batchelor Pad

by

Michael Pudney

Sitting in an empty house
Looking at, my nice beech floor
Kind of makes me wonder
What I laid it for
Was it for a dinner party
Or to impress, my friends
That I went to all that effort
And when will I fix those ends
The whole I knock under the stairs
Seemed a good idea
But when I put a door on it
What will I put in there.
I brought a cheap jacuzzi
So my friends could all come round.
But in the depths of winter.
It's just me, I've found.
My barbecue is rusty
And sitting in the shed
And I haven't had much use
For, that fold down double bed.
The pictures from ikea
Ment to give a cultured air
Seem a little pointless
When noone sees them there.
But the internets still working
And the sky sports just come on
So I think i'll have another beer
And pretend that nothings wrong.

Adult Angst

by

Michael Pudney

In moments when we sit and think
At work
Or out late for a drink

How did our lives turn out this way
Discuss
The way it went astray.

With teenage angst it has soon gone
Adults
Angst goes on and on.

We do our best to get things right
Worry
Of the whole worlds plight.

I wish I could be seventeen
Pointless
Aspiration and silly dreams

Allowed to cry and laugh and shout
Without
Concerns or needless doubt.

The rules we have that run our life
Restrain
And mostly cause us strife.

I long for freedom that youth brings
simple
Games and other things

Anger Management an alternative view

by

Michael Pudney

Anger management is all the rage.
To deal with people that you meet.
Trouble is I don't get angry,
And thus, I'm trodden under feet.

I want to learn, to lose my temper.
Not to keep it all inside.
I'd like to fight and shout and hollow,
and thus regain a little pride.

Some people I would like to murder.
For all the damage they have done.
Perhaps a course could give the answers.
Of where to buy and fire a gun.

I wouldn't offer any warning.
Firing bullets at their eyes.
I'd learn quite quick, to show no mercy.
Unperturbed by screams and cries.

When the police come to arrest me.
I'd show them my certificate.
A pass in getting very angry
Distinctions in mistrust and hate.

You've made a better Man

by

Michael Pudney

For many years I've known and loved you,
I've written all one man can say,
I've cherished all our days together
Watch you sleep and drift away.

I hoped i'd find the perfect message.
That would, bring you back to me.
I spoke with warmth of stars and sunsets
But now I know, it will not to be.

Yet even in my darkest moments.
Sat in stillness all alone,
I still recall the love and kindness.
You brought to, our humble home.

As I lay at night, relaxing. .
Slowly floating off to sleep.
Pictures of our life together.
Into my mind, still seem to creep.

I think that if I lived forever.
Or die today if that's gods plan
You should know. how much I love you
And that you’ve made a better man’

New House

by

Michael Pudney

When u enter someones house
Sometimes it feels homely
Others can feel clutter
Or just a little lonely.
a house without good company
Can feel a little bare
Even if surrounded
By clothing everywhere
I like your house,its cozy
its the people that live there.
That make me want to snuggle up
far from the publics glare.
I hope you'll all be happy
And it won't take long 2 find
You've forgotten all your worries
Bout the things you've left behind

Thoughts on Poetry

by

Michael Pudney

When I write a poem
I think that it should ryhme
Readers should, all try to guess
The end of the next, line.
I've never liked the poetry
That tries to be too clever
With words that u don't understand
Or lines that last forever.

If I should choose to stop a line
for no apparent reason
Surely then, it would be prose
My own poetic treason
Much of what I like to write
Is best performed out loud
In intimate surroundings
Or in a rowdy crowd.
I'm trying hard to learn
The grammar of it all
So my readers understand
Where voice should rise or fall.
They should know, to take a breath.
Or when to read real slow
A comma, or a good fullstop.
Can help them, keep the flow

I wish I'd paid attention
In my english class
And aimed for something higher
than a simple c grade pass.

But despite my limitations.
I try my best to find
Words and a style to interest
And stimulate the mind.

Consequence and Action

by

Michael Pudney

Ostriches are quite well known , for letting things drift by
They never ever get depressed, or sit home alone and cry
If you follow their example, and stick your head deep in the sand.
It will not become apparent, that your life’s got out of hand.
The postman with his sack of bills, will not catch your eye.
The troubles that frequent your brain, pass in a cloudless sky.
This approach can be quite helpful, to get you through the day
But consequence and action are never far away.

The postman keeps on coming and delivering your mail
The buzzards will still circle, following your trail
When you have to pull your head out, to breath some good clean air
The clouds you hoped, would pass you by, are still distinctly there
The choices that torment you, when confronted by your foe.
Will not simply disappear, nor turn around and go.
You could quite simply look away, to ease a troubled mind
But consequence and action wont be far behind

My best companion

by

Michael Pudney

When I moved into my house.
There was a knocking at my door
When I looked around the back
There was a face I saw.

It was not a man before me
But a strong impossing cat.
That comfy on the patio
Contentedly was sat.

He did not ask permission
But when the door I' d slide.
He came straight in my kitchen.
With his jumpy little stride.

At first he was quite warey
Of the new things that he saw
It all seemed a little different
To the way it was before

My cat has now been with me
For a year or two
His routine is some chicken
Then a trip to use the loo.

with new folks, he gets frightened
And is known to try and bite.
And if he sees another cat
There bound to be a fight

He would not make a gymnast
His balance is too shit
But incase I need protecting
By my bed each night, he'll sit

He lies upon my chest
I know he doesn't mean to hurt
Its his way to show affection
My scratchy cat,called big bad bert

Ode to Mundesley Prelude

by

Michael Pudney

Imagine if you will for me,
The year is 1963
A couple and their 2 small Kids,
A fortnight by the Sea.

They have no clothes at home to wear.
But when they get on holiday,
Their clothes will all be there.
They were packed up in a big grey trunk,
About a week before.
Children’s little cases
By the front door.

No Swimming Pool
No Bar
No TV
Just sun sand and sea.

Ode to mundesley Holiday Camp

by

Michael Pudney

I wonder If you Remember
Your very first Kiss

The Boy or girl in question
The feeling on your lips
I ask this for a reason
Because I remember mine
She was seven
And I was nine.
One year I stayed at her house
and She dropped crumbs into my bed
I think she wanted cuddles
But I didn’t play
I got out instead.

I wonder if you remember
When Charles and Di got Wed.

I watched it in a small dark room,
Party hat upon my head
We rushed in after meal times
The TV set was very small
The place was packed so tightly
We couldn’t seat them all
And when it all had finished
I danced with Lucy Clarke
There were no biscuit crumbs that week
Just an aching teenage heart

I wonder if you remember
When you were still naive

In eighty Five I fell in love
so much, I didn’t want to leave
We climbed the Windmill to the top
And danced the night away.
We talked until at 6am
I thought I’d best not stay.
No biscuit crumbs
We did nothing wrong,
Holding hands and listening,
To a George Benson Song.

I can still remember
somethings personal to me
Many not to mention
In this company
Bruno fighting Witherspoon
On a mobile radio
Singing very badly
In a childrens talent show
Uncle Poz the magic man
Who entertained us all
Playing comic Cricket
When its raining in the Hall
A western Night with Candles
Cause all the lights went out
Hiding very Quietly
Cause Dave the Skins about

In case you hadn’t gathered
These things all happened here
To choose the best from 31
Wouldn’t quite be fair
But when I arrived for 32
With Crutches and a cast
I didn’t think that this would be
My very very last
I cannot Dance
I could never sing
I cant join the football team.
But I’ll rise once more
For Auld Lange Sign
And I’ll know that we have had our time

The accountants and the money men
Have decided we don’t pay
Weve not been told, But we just know
We’ve not been invited For another stay

History Family Loyalty
Its seems have had their day.

But Don’t be sad, There is still Hope
I have it in my hand
Think of things, that I could do
If this weeks lottery, goes as planned.
I’d raise a glass of bubbly
And with a smile upon my face
I’d phone up Mr Richardson
And I’d buy the bloody

Moving On

by

Michael Pudney

Moving on 'snot easy
if you have no place to go
The pain that this can put u through
only you will ever know.
You leave the castle walls
and into a limbo land
Friends will try to help you
But you just cant take their hand

You look towards the future
Then glance back, to where you’ve been
The way you live your life before
The places you have seen
At night you cry yourself to sleep
cant decide the route to follow
All the decision you must make
You leave until tomorrow

Then one day, you look behind you
the drawbridge has disappeared
The one thing that you clung too most
The thing that you most feared.
But now you have no options
You must mount your steed and ride
Your aspirations and your dreams
Can nolonger quell the tide.

Before you know, your mount has quickened
Moving at a steady pace
You don’t know, where your headed for.
But it has to be, a better place
Destiny will guide you
And it could be to a mess
But you pray to god your choices
He or she will try and bless

You know that if your mind is true
You will have the chance to find
That elusive chalice
That’s been praying on your mind
Some might try to tell you,
That their different way is right
But stick to what your heart says
And peaceful sleep will come each night

Borders

by

Michael Pudney

I'm not allowed a passport
I can't cross the borderline
But where it is the border lies
No one can't quite define.

Each person has a theory.
Based on considered thought
But on its exact location
Great battles have been fought.

Historic acts have moved it.
Left and right and back.
To move it in to where it was
Would need a full attack.

Those who set, its current place.
Think their stance worthwhile
They think to reposition, would.
Their whole principles defile

Some younger men will try to push.
Barbed wire and fence aside.
The bravest or the most naive.
Might boast ‘at least we tried’

The border guards will watch these moves
And will not raise their gun
Their brash attempts to swim across
Seen as a little fun.

The strangest part of all their moves
is why they climb the wall.
For when they reach the promised land
They won't stay long at all.

The older and the wiser folk.
wont try to break across
They understand to act so rash
would cause much pain and loss

Natures borders have a reason.
And so do men’s I'm sure
But why they chose to put it here
Right now I'm not so sure.

The pastures on the fields I see
Seem beautiful and green
The water that divides the land
Seems crystal clear and clean.

As king kanute has taught us all
You cannot turn the tide
The prudent man will wait incase,
the waters do divide.

So i'll just sit, and pass the time.
Paddle ling my toes
And if my passport does turn up.
What happens then, who knows

Anger Management

by

Michael Pudney

Anger management is all the rage.
To deal with people that you meet.
Trouble is I don't get angry,
And thus, I'm trodden under feet.

I want to learn, to lose my temper.
Not to keep it all inside.
I'd like to fight and shout and hollow,
and thus regain a little pride.

Some people I would like to murder.
For all the damage they have done.
Perhaps a course could give the answers.
Of where to buy and fire a gun.

I wouldn't offer any warning.
Firing bullets at their eyes.
I'd learn quite quick, to show no mercy.
Unperturbed by screams and cries.

When the police come to arrest me.
I'd show them my certificate.
A pass in getting angry
Distinctions in, mistrust and hate.

A poets Plea

by

Michael Pudney

Could u please correct my errors.
Make my poems all read right
Maybe we could work togeather
Deep into an autumn night.

If we could, combine our talents
The future could be very bright.
With your style, and my emotion
We could make, a dark day light.

Working alone, or with another.
May have suited for a while.
But right now I need a partner
help my pen produce a smile.

If you do not like the prospect,
Of a fruitfull double act.
Offer me some words of guidance
With your usual kindly tact.

I have lost my map & compass
And only you can bring it back
Help me get to where I'm going
and provide the things I lack.

All communication Banned

by

Michael Pudney

I wanted to write you a poem
But I'm told that, I am not allowed
To speak or even approach you,
Communication has all been curtailed.

So how do I know, how you're feeling.
If you're regretful or sad.
Or even if you, truly believe,
That my behavior was bad.

The pressure that you, must be facing,
I guess that, I will never know
But if for a minute, I just saw your face,
I think your expression would show.

I hope that some time in the future.
We can meet far away from this mess.
Far from the nightmare created.
By half-truths and heartbreak and stress.

Hug away convention

by

Michael Pudney

I loved it when you punched me
I loved it when you smiled
I loved it when you went all quiet
and moody when your riled

I hope that in the future
You will know how much I cared,
And think of lots of happy thoughts,
remembering times we shared

You won’t think I was creepy
Or, someone who told a lie
You won’t think that, I broke your trust
Or always made you cry

I know I’m not so perfect
Although I did try hard
Sometimes when you needed me,
I played a stupid card

I hope you’ll think I was your friend
Who offered love, and much attention
Who wanted just to snuggle up,
and hug away convention.

I hope you’ll put this somewhere safe
Like in a secret pocket
Or if you feel you want to
Wear it in a locket.

There were always many limits
On what I could say or do.
But I wanted just to show I cared
And know that you cared too

The Moral High Ground

by

Michael Pudney

It’s a shame, there are such nasty people.

Who in our lives we sometimes meet

They do not have the highest morals

They Lie and Moan , deceive and Cheat.

Sometimes when we’re feeling Shizzer

To be like them, may have appeal

But folks like us cant find it in us,

We’re far to nice to hate or steal.

So I guess, we’ll both get shafted

Today, tomorrow and next year.

Because of this we’ll get frustrated

But we’ll pass from this life with no fear.

The boxers final decision

by

Michael Pudney

Whats the point in just existing
Getting by from day to day
When your soul has been extinguished
And all your plans have gone astray

If I should retire tomorrow
Everything would carry on
The earths rotation wouldn’t finish
Would I be missed for very long.

If I choose, to keep on fighting.
Will once homed skills, still be on show
Or will my reputation suffer
Should I accept a TKO

All Punched Out

by

Michael Pudney

When the bell first rings, I come out fighting.
I’ll give as good as I receive.
I may be just a novice puncher.
But I’ve learnt to bob and weave.

Constant onslaughts are down hearting.
I try to punch above my weight.
If I can cling on, for a few rounds.
I’ll let the judges choose my fate.

But as I rest for 30 seconds.
Battered and a little bruised.
There seems no point, inserting gum shields.
If I know, I going to lose.

My Corner men are all uplifting.
Fixing cuts and bleeding nose.
with smelling salts, expertly offered,
Confidence inside me grows.

I touch my gloves and stagger forward.
Standing toe to toe once more
A fist that seems to come from nowhere
Leaves me prostrate on the floor.

I see the lights but feel no pain now.
All my spark has slipped away.
Will my corner bring salvation?
For the towel, I quietly pray.

Instead a bell rings in the rafters.
I move forlornly to my chair.
I sit and hear, but cannot listen,
The passions gone there’s nothing there.

My trainer tries to offer wisdom.
He says to hang on one more round.
But as I rise, to meet the challenge
The energy cannot be found.

I watch the crowd so disappointed
The one they chose is tired and beat
And so with every ounce of effort
I drag myself onto my feet.

The blows, they rain onto my body.
They sap my heart and numb my mind.
If I could have just one last flourish
Then some peace, perhaps I’d find.

The final bell brings termination.
To, 10 rounds, of fear and pain
But it doesn’t matter, what’s the outcome.
For I'll never wear, my gloves again.

Not green or pleasant

by

Michael Pudney

To go to bed at night, just wishing
That somehow, you will not wake
To give your heart, without receiving
While others simply, take take take.
To offer, all your joy and passion
Without the need, to seek reward
To know that, for the sake of others
You must fall, upon your sword.

To reach out for the ones you trusted
But know that they, wont take your hand
Despite the song that you remember
It’s not a green, or pleasant land.
Where people seek to castigate you.
Where once, they fell down at your feet
Where children do not know the difference
Between the good and bad they meet.

The greenness in the distance meadow
Will not be there, when I arrive
The new born lamb, won’t bounce rejoicing.
Simply glad to be alive
For someone took the things I cherished
Replaced them with a shallow grave
Not deep enough to offer silence.
But far to deep, my life to save.

The door is locked

by

Michael Pudney

The door is locked, I cannot leave.
I cannot even sit and grieve.
There is no death for me to mourn.
Just another new days dawn.
The door is locked, I have to stay
No midweek break, or getaway
There is no jailor, with the key
Just reflections of, a younger me.
The door is locked, with me inside
No friends arrive, with arms out wide
There is no phone, to make a call
No Newman with, a bouncing ball
The door that’s locked. Is called my mind
The combination’s hard to find
The tunnel that escapes this room
Might not be lit, but would lift the gloom.

No compassion in the wilderness

by

Michael Pudney

No compassion in this wilderness
Just never ending heat
No oasis to relieve my thirst
Just sand beneath my feet

The midday sun relentless
Mouth is parched and dry
Not a solitary camel
In the distance, can I spy.

The darkness brings no respite
>From temp’rature extremes
As the fear of reptile venom
Punctuate my dreams.

My companion in this desert
Is a mirage in my mind
But when I reach to touch it
Emptiness I find.

A small nomadic village.
Is marked on ancient maps
When I find, that it’s deserted.
waning energy soon saps.

I rest amongst the ruins
Of what was once a home.
And realise it is my fate
to die out here alone.

If I wasn’t dehydrated
I’d cry a million tears
If my brain could focus clearly
I’d challenge all my fears.

With darkness now around me
And no match to start a fire
I slowly start to shiver
Then quietly I expire

The Dark Room

by

Michael Pudney

A dark room, A dark place
False smile upon her face
Flashing cameras boost the light
But will she sleep at all tonight

A dark room, A dank smell
Pert breasts, enlarged well
Chemicals increase exposure
A final kiss, wont give her closure

A dark room, a red glow
Just a little more she’ll show
Software, that changes skin tone
Cocaine, that keeps her in zone

A dark room, a locked door
She has to offer something more
Apertures are opened wide
An unknown man lies by her side.

A dark room, computer screen
No real sense, of what’s been seen.
Quick descent to moral hell
On his side of the screen as well

Unwashable stains

by

Michael Pudney

Bleach or strong detergent,
Will not wash this stain away.
A mark upon my face and skin,
Will, forever stay.

Specialists may try their best,
To cleanse , repair or mask.
But, however hard they try
It’s just a hopeless task.

Stains, not caused by dirt or grime.
will blemish only character.
They will not wash away with soap
But suitors they will still deter.

Only time, can make them fade.
But they’ll never disappear.
Like memories of broken trust
That came and put them there

Big Bros Birthday

by

Michael Pudney

Yet another birthday
which suggests you’re getting old
But with age, comes wisdom
Is what, I once was told.
Alas it can bring, nasal hair
And a balding of the head.
But bald men are more virile,
I’ve also heard it said.
So, enjoy your presents
Your candles and your cakes
And I hope, your Tower trip
A perfect birthday makes
But don’t forget you’re ne’er to old
For following a dream
Or sticking fingers in the bowl
And licking off the cream
For acting daft or silly
Bringing mud into the hall
Playing with a frisbee
Or keep ups with a Ball
Imaginations all that stops.
you being Twenty one.
Stay out late and celebrate
And have a lot of fun

Not Just My way

by

Michael Pudney

Is the end, to be like this
Why is life so damned confusing
If there’s one thing I will miss
Its seeing things I find amusing
I’ve lived a modest life
had some fun, like on a holiday
but right now, I’m not so sure it was just my way

Regrets I have a few
But always shared, with good intention
You’ll do what you have to do
And I hope you find redemption.
I never planned, the course we took
At least not in, some kind of sly way
In fact, I’m not so sure right now
It was just my way.

There were those times, all of which you knew
When we bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
We all sat down and talked it out
We faced it all, we did not fall we did it our way

We loved, We laughed and cried
now it seems your memories ailing
You now believe I lied, hurtful tales you are regaling
to think I did all that.
No hidden charge, for you to pay
But now you say, the "we" has gone, it was just my way

So what am I now, what have I got?
Now you’ve betrayed, then not a lot
just look inside. Let conscience guide
let records show So all will know It weren’t just my way

No point complaining

by

Michael Pudney

No point complaining
While I can look in the mirror
No point complaining
While I can hear the truth
No point complaining
While touch can seperate, curved and flat
No point complaining
When I can smell a rat

I will however start complaing
If noone wants to look at me,
I'll shout it from the rooftops
If noone wants to hear,
I tried to touch the lives of many,
Not with my hands, but with my heart.
If some can smell, unpleasent odours,
It wasn't me that chose to fart

alternatively
I only had a walkon part

Winter cricket blues

by

Michael Pudney

Bat is oiled and placed away
6 more months till start of play
Whites are cleaned and neatly stored
Winter weekends make me bored.

I know that I have things to do.
But when I see that sky turn blue.
I wish it was the month of May
And not 5 months to start of play

I try to find some inspiration
By playing Tests on my Playstation.
But even with some scones and cream
Its not the same on a TV screen.

February brings some light
Indoor league on a Sunday night
A chance to shine with bat and Ball
But you get no sun in a giant Hall.

Groundworks now well underway
Just 2 more months to start of play
The fixtures will soon be received
If the league can be believed!!

The final month and time goes slow
The forecasts are predicting Snow!!!!
How will the cold affect the track?
And our famous pace attack.

The day has come I pack my gear
Stride to the middle, without fear
My teammates all have wished me luck.
But you guessed, A Golden Duck

Old Letters

by

Michael Pudney

Old Letters in many hands
Talk of all our future plans
Faded ink that says so much
Closing requests, to stay in touch.
Reflectionns on our loves forsaken
Stories of the routes we’d taken
Cards from morocco and italy
Show me you still think of me.
Sometimes happy sometimes sad
Reminders of the times we had
You told me that you’d met "the one"
Whilst lying under foreign sun
You wrote of one mans drunken droop
You tried to keep me in the loop.
Different addresses at which to reply.
Reading some still make me cry
One day you might need me, is what you once wrote
And this brought lumps into my throat.
Surprise at friends who have become mothers.
Stories of girlfriends and boyfriends and brothers.
A house warming party you hoped I’d attend
But most of all hope that, we’d always be friends

BST

by

Michael Pudney

The clocks have gone forward.
And summer is here.
Time to, enjoy gardens.
With a glass of cold beer.
The sun has shone brightly,
And the birds have been singing.
Revealing the secrets.
Of the joy. aprils briingin

BIRTHDAYS SUCK

by

Michael Pudney

2 years ago I went to turkey.
Chasing every old mans dream
Quite a lot has changed in 2 years
Dreams aren't always what they seem.
and once again it is my birthday.
im nearly flippin 42
so why the hell should I be smiling.
now my age is the size of my shoe.

eec sizes and all that

european shoe sizes

by

Michael Pudney

When I was a child, My mother used to tell me
Act your age, not the size of your shoe.
The trouble is on my next birthday.
They'll be the same, i'll be 42

When folks were planning a modern europe.
I don't suppose they thought this through.
That when you got to half a lifetime.
Your age would be your shoe size too.

So now when I get the same advice.
And im looking for a quick refrain
I can look at my mother and smile while I answer
"actually mum there both now the same"

The irony is, even now im much older.
The original comment still often applies.
And hasn't really been diminished.
By middle aged, smart arsed replies

College Letters

by

Michael Pudney

Yesterday, I read some letters
Penned, when I was just nineteen
Seeing those forgotten writings
Reminder me, of things I’d seen

The names that followed "gotta go now"
Took me back to happy days
When we drank beer, with gay abandon
And hours on New Hall lawn did laze.

College photos, don’t quite capture
The moments that we all enjoyed
Before we left our sheltered confines
Becoming gainfully employed.

But letters seemed to seal the moment
Keeping context and a mood.
Words and phrases long forgotten.
Insults that might now seem rude.

The coloured pens and flowery paper
or special notelets that were chosen
Never made it to the waste bin
And in their content, time has frozen.

Plans were made for future parties.
And reviews of past events.
Sections that were saying nothing
Or long and winding deep laments.

All these papers placed together
Tell the story of my past
In 20 years will current students
regret they pressed "delete" so fast

When I miss you most of all

by

Michael Pudney

Its just gone midnight

And its too late to phone.

I've finish my book.

And im feeling alone.

at this time of evening.

I miss your goodnight.

Those two little words

As I turned out the light.

Made my sleep peacefull.

And eyes, close with a smile.

And I remember contentment

I've not had for a while

never a bridegroom

by

Michael Pudney

I've never been a Bridegroom
never had a honeymoon
Never drunk champagne on a distant beach
That final step has been out of reach
Always dressed up, but Sat in a pew
Not Stood at the front, like others I knew
Perhaps I sought a perfect Match
Whilst others Settled for a quick Catch
I thought if I waited my wish would Come true.
Now I accept that my wish was for you

you slashed the binding

by

Michael Pudney

I tried to understand you
Get inside your mind.
But mostly I just tried to be
Loving nice and kind.
I thought i'd found a friendship.
That would last forever.
Not through a marriage licence.
just through a mutual teather.
But You slashed through, the binding.
Without a single word.
You did not want to listen.
Incase the truth be heard.
I don't know what, that truth was now.
So you will never know.
And little shoots we planted.
Will newer get to grow.

Dont rewrite history

by

Michael Pudney

By all means if you want to, and you think you have a case.
Destroy somebodies future, but don't their past debase.
Don't take all their memories and throw them on the fire.
For without this history, we might as well expire.
Don't take what was happy and make it something sad.
Don't take actions which were good and make them all seem bad.
If you have a point to make, make it with due viguor.
But do not add conjecture which makes the problem bigger.
For its right that you should disagree with actions you dispise.
But just to emphasise your point , the truth don't compromise.
For if you rewrite history, to prove that you were right.
Your own past will be changed aswell, then will YOU sleep at night

live before you die

by

Michael Pudney

Like peter pan who never grew up
I Prefer a straw to a china cup.
Messing about with some friends down the club.
Or drinking some beer with the lads in the pub.
Don't get to stressed, bout material things.
As long as theres red bull to give me those wings
The trouble is im forty two
And folks say I should act like you.
Save up for a distant time
Not chase beer with vodka and lime.
Act my age not be so daft
But when was the last time, you all laughed.
Not at a comic on the telly.
But something deep inside your belly.
Not some little polite snigger
But something much much Much Much bigger.
I may not die a millionare
But do you think I really care
You might not like how I behave
But you've all reached an early grave
For if I die tonight in bed
At least I'm not already dead

dont cry knight

by

Michael Pudney

In olden days a goodly night.
could guard a maiden through the night.
His chivalry was not mistaken
She did not scream should she awaken.

To find him standing quietly there.
Did not fill her with dispair
For she knew, his sole intention
Was to offer her protection.

A modern girl so full of fear.
Who holds her chastity so dear.
Would run to call the thought police.
Demanding that the watching cease.

Scared her innocents he'd steal.
Whilst at the same time she'll reveal.
A belly button ring, and thong.
To any man who comes along.

Unfortunately for this maiden
Whose brain has been so badly laiden.
With fear and lack of moral leads.
She does not notice noble deeds.

And thus when she needs to escape.
When she is really, screaming rape.
She will find her knights not there.
as he is locked in chains, somewhere

the final verdict

by

Michael Pudney

There are truths and there are lies.
Counter agents , secret spies
But who is it, that tells the truth,
Who can provide compelling proof.

Can evidence explain it all.
When silence rises like a wall.
To protect, or too deceive
who will, the 12 good men believe.

But in our final court appearance.
There will be no such, interference.
There are no foremen at heavens door.
Our judge will follow a joined up law.

so regardless of, eventual sentence,
Strength or weakness, of our de-fence.
freedom or guilt, is a state of mind.
Not in what, the court may find.

So offer your plea, with head held high.
but as you sit down again, glance to the sky
For the judge and the jury, who always are there
Are the ones who provide a verdict that's fair.

misguided friendship

by

Michael Pudney

A woman I once thought I knew.
Got her brain, in a terrible stew.
She couldn't follow her own mind
And left her principles behind.
She listen to people before she thought twice.
About what was proper or moral or nice.

Friday, Not a day for Stress

by

Michael Pudney

Once again we’ve reached that time,
Of week when everything is fine
We must not stress or blow our top.
No need to get into a strop.

The weekend is so nearly here.
Time to don your party gear.
Friday is not time for worry
Its time for beer and wine and Curry.

So if a problem should arise
Treat it as a nice surprise.
Try not to shout and bang ones chest
For tomorrow, we can have a rest.

Cooch by the fire, with video
Relax in the sun, on Patio
Recharge our brain for another week
This way, some sanity we’ll keep.

If this approach, should start to fail.
And colleagues, you could still impale.
Have a coffee, breath real slow
There’s only 6, more hours to go

light bulbs

by

Michael Pudney

light bulbs are quite clever

You turn them off at night

And when you turn them on again

They give you lots of light

eclesiastical Motivation

by

Michael Pudney

Vicars don’t get weekends

a downside of their vocation

But I guess that having 2 days off

Was not there motivation,

They probably considered

on Quiet contemplation

That free Wine on a sunday

was sufficient compensation

Teen Dilemma

by

Michael Pudney

Should I kiss him or is it wrong
Should I hold his gaze so long
I want to feel his strong embrace
I feel my heart increase its pace.
I have not kissed a boy before
What if he wants something more
Should I feel guilt, or simply pleasure.
Or pair them up in equal measure.
My friends have long since past this base
But do I want to Join their race?

She moved from Adolescents

by

Michael Pudney

Confused by her emotions
And her changing body im-age
She moved from adolescents.
Turn her book of lifes new page.

But she knew not how to act.
As new characters appeared
The simple role of childhood
Had some how disappeared

A touch once reassuring
Now took on a different role
A simple act of kindness
Reached down and touched her soul

Fear had overtaken
Much of what she knew
About the world around her
She knew not what was true.

She look towards her parents
To guide her through the mist
But her father lack true insight
And her mother was too pissed

So she turned towards another
Who offered her attention
And in that fleeting moment
She lost her apprehension.

The parents who neglected
Were quick to shift the blame
When they could have been quite grateful
They simply fanned the flame.

And everything about the girl
Her dreams and aspirations
Were lost in that one second
Through wide recrimination.

Passing of a feathered friend

by

Michael Pudney

Some folk think that pets, are just a pet
Other think they are their friend.
Somebody who when things are bad
You know you can depend.

They do not want to kiss you.
If you’d rather not
They do not bring up arguments
You thought they had forgot.

They will not raise the toilet seat
And forget to put it down.
They will not sneak behind you
And pull your trousers down. ( I have of course have never done this )

They listen when you want to moan
And never interrupt
They will not hold a grudge next day
Even if you’ve been abrupt.

The’re always there to greet us
With loud meow or chirp
And they do not look disgusted
Should we fart or Burp

As long as they are kept well fed
And given lots of strokes
They will not cause annoyance
Not like, a lot of Blokes.

And this is why we love them
And there passing causes pain.
But somewhere up in heaven
They’ll be chirping once again.

Teenage Dilemma (the boys story)

by

Michael Pudney

After shave is splashed all over
Even though he does not shave
Pack of 3 placed in his pocket
Make him feel all bold and brave
But inside he’s sweating buckets
About what really lies ahead
Will he be a disappointment
If they should end up in bed.
He isn’t sure of where too look
Or should he help her get undressed.
After all before this evening
He’s never even touched her breast.
But all the same his friends all tell him
He mustn’t miss the chance to score.
An actually he does quite like her
He’s nervous as they close the door.
But as they kiss a pleasant greeting
They know each others minds are read
And even though there’s no distraction.
They choose a DVD instead

A Price too High

by

Michael Pudney

In the park with cans of cider
A group of mates all mill around
She wants to join in all the laughter
So she lies down on the ground
Its not the way she’d choose this moment
her new found friends have egged her on
And in the darkness of the hedgerow
Her dreams and innocents are gone.
When its done he does not linger
Or even hold her shaking hand
But rushes to rejoin the party.
Just as he had always planned.
Alone that night in bed she wonders
Reflecting on what she has done.
Was the price she paid to high
For the new found friends she’d won

A price too high ( The boy)

by

Michael Pudney

In the park with cans of cider
A group of mates all mill around
He leads her to a quiet hedgerow
Then lays her down onto the ground
He doesn’t mind that she is nervous
Like so many girls before
But if she wants to join the party
Now she has to offer more.
His baggy pants give speedy access
Her denim skirt is much the same
And when the act is swiftly over
He has no sense of Guilt or shame.
Quickly back to join the masses
Hoping that his drinks untouched
With speed such that he did not notice
Her arms so tightly round her clutched.

A Price too High ( The Boy)

by

Michael Pudney

In the park with cans of cider
A group of mates all mill around
He leads her to a quiet hedgerow
Then lays her down onto the ground
He doesn’t mind that she is nervous
Like so many girls before
But if she wants to join the party
Now she has to offer more.
His baggy pants give speedy access
Her denim skirt is much the same
And when the act is swiftly over
He has no sense of Guilt or shame.
Quickly back to join the masses
Hoping that his drinks untouched
With speed such that he did not notice
Her arms so tightly round her clutched.

Behind closed doors

by

Michael Pudney

A tree lined street,
With neat net curtains
What goes on behind them,
We cannot quite be certain

A yellow painted door
With a brass numbered plaques
Keeps away the neighbours
Lest they see internal cracks

A high garden wall
Protects from prying eyes
allowing those who live there
To continue all there lies

illusive happyness

by

Michael Pudney

Im sorry im so moody

Im trying not to be

But when I least expect it

It creeps right up on me

I want to be all happy

Like I was before

But when I feel im getting close

Im knocked back on the floor

modern slavery

by

Michael Pudney

No smoking on these premises
No drinking in the street
A camera on each Lamppost
Orwells image is complete.

Imprisonment without a trial
A tap on every phone
Closing doors and curtains
Won’t secure your home

Taxing half your income
But don’t collect your bin
If through the confusion
Wastepaper’s found within.

Recording all your movements
With satellite detection.
Telling those who protest
Its for there own protection

The thought police who sit and judge.
Your every conversation
Maybe even secret thoughts,
Are under observation

Freedom, requires a chance to choose
It’s not just breaking, chains.
Until we have the right to choose
enslavery remains

Unless you live in my Shoes

by

Michael Pudney

Read the papers,
Hear the news
Listen to
Oppossing views.
Conjutate
On all the facts
Analysing
All the acts.
But judgement
Cannot be complete
Unless you live, upon my street

Its not the same

by

Michael Pudney

Almongst the wonderment of life.
I crave your touch
Surounded by flowers and sunlight.
I miss you much.
On a long and pleasant winter walk.
I hear your name
Lieing on a sunkissed beach in
June.
Is not the same.
An autumn evening watching sun go down
I cannot speak.
The loneliness that each day brings.
Makes me so weak.

Mental fragility

by

Michael Pudney

Tears that come without a warning.
Then drifts away, at each days dawning.
Tiredness never cured by sleeping,
Punctuates the constant weeping.
Fear that causes, knots like rocks.
Not solved by, reinforcing ocks.
Panicked, by knocking at the door.
doctors, have seen it all before,.

Instability of thought.
Provides new battles to be fought.
At times when you are least prepared.
Confusion makes you weak and scared.
Then next day when you leave your bed
You see some clarity ahead.
So friends advice you do not heed
And never seek the help you need.

White Black or grey

by

Michael Pudney

White is a the colour of purity
White is the colour of snow.
The colour of a wedding dress
That chastity might show.

The light we see at heavens door
A fluffy cloud, on a summer day
Or The men, in big white coats
Sent to take you away.

A blank sheet of paper
On which noone has drawn
Thus no story to tell us
And it fades there forlorn.

Black is the colour of death
Black is the colour of Night
The colour of adeep mine shaft
Without a miners light

The sky before a rainstorm
Vampires or squeaking bat
Or the fluffy ball of fur
That is my loving cat

The print upon a page
On which stories have been told
That entertain our Children
With tales of knights of Old.

I seek not to make judgements.
But wanted just to say.
Why must there be, such absolutes
can we not just, leave things grey.

trust conflicts

by

Michael Pudney

Trust is a two way jesture
It requires two minds engaged
And if this bond is broken.
Either party is rightly enraged.

But when trusts conflict with each other
This creates a confusing new scene.
And for the one who is caught in the middle.
This might seem, incredibly mean.

How they choose, which trust they will honour.
I cannot be sure, that I know.
But I believe, that they have a strong duty.
To decide and not just go, with the flow.

Whinge

by

Michael Pudney

Whinge whinge whinge whinge, bloody whinge
Is what you've done your whole life through.
Ever thought your problems.
Might come down to you.
No I didn't think you would have done,
Theres always someone else, to blame.
But when faced with you shortcomings.
Your excuses are so lame.
Your not a bloody victim
I think you are the cause.
so before you point the finger.
On that thought. --- just pause.

A Bit angry today

by

Michael Pudney

Im not well known for anger.
But sometimes it breaks through.
And normally this feeling .
Is reserved for you.

Anger comes in many forms.
Retribution and or violence
and on this occasion,
my angers caused by silence.

Your to afraid to face me
In case you feel some guilt.
Not because you fear a knife,
Inserted to the hilt.

For you know that I won't hurt you.
With a bullet or a rope.
But you fear the words, that I will say.
For with the truth, you cannot cope.

So go about your merry way.
Avoid reality's of your life.
As after all,it seems you were a.
shit mum, shit friend, shit wife.

Man on a bench

by

Michael Pudney

An angry man, sat on a bench in the park
You would not have known, his anger
To the outside world, he was just quiet.

Nothing was shown, by the state of his dress
You would not have seen his anger
But it was, there none the less.

I watched as the people all quietly passed by.
And then just for an instance
tears welled in his eye.

A quick thump on the bench, with a glance to the sky
>From a secluded location
I watched that man cry

I wanted to ask what tormented so much.
Or what in his palm
He so tightly did clutch.

Instead I just left him alone with his mind
Hoping in solitude
Peace he would find

The Vampire in our Life

by

Michael Pudney

Not alive, but not yet truly dead.
A cold grey box, replaced my comfy bed.
Waking nightly in a rage
No respite from, immortal cage.

My mirror shows no fond reflection.
Of my once well worn complexion
Just shadow of my former self
Where Palid skin, shows failing health.

I recall no vampire’s breath
Leaving me so close to death
Or, no oozing puncture wound
Which left me feeling cold and doomed.

According to legend and ancient script
Drakul comes rising each night from his crypt.
Taking many different form
Then disappears each day at dawn.

I think I know the shape it took
When from my neck the blood it took
Casting me with zombie spell
And leaving me so close to hell.

I now recall the dazzling eyes.
Which though I try, I cant despise.
My rush to find a wooden stake
My silver bullet fired too late.

Mesmerising in its wake
But gone before the dawn did break
A subtle smile a golden hue
I know now that, the count was you

Playoff downer

by

Michael Pudney

The young team, all have play their best We shouldn't ask for any more.
And after 90 Minutes
We had achieved a draw

The Ginger one was awesome
And Derry worked so hard
And Clint Hill was unlucky
To receive that yellow Card

The Palace Massive once again
Tried to Play their part
By constant cheer and chanting
No one was lacking heart.

And, for 1 short minute
We, were wembley bound
Until I heard the ball strike wood
With such a sickening sound.

I do not blame poor Watson
He stood up to the plate
And its just, a football match.
So we shouldn’t get Irate

And unlike the glory hunters
We'll be back in future years
For we're proud to follow Palace
Through Happiness or Tears

And if you take a ribbing
>From Man U Fan or Blue
Don’t forget to ask them.
How many games, that they go to.

And where they were in 1970
When both there teams were S
And if that doesn’t shut them up
Tell them they're a T

trust conflicts

by

Michael Pudney

Trust is a two way jesture
It requires two minds engaged
And if this bond is broken.
Either party is rightly enraged.

But when trusts conflict with each other This creates a confusing new scene.
And for the one who is caught in the middle.
This might seem, incredibly mean.

How they choose, which trust they will honour.
I cannot be sure, that I know.
But I believe, that they have a strong duty.
To decide and not just go, with the flow.

Whinge

by

Michael Pudney

Whinge whinge whinge whinge, bloody whinge Is what you've done your whole life through.
Ever thought your problems.
Might come down to you.
No I didn't think you would have done,
Theres always someone else, to blame.
But when faced with you shortcomings.
Your excuses are so lame.
Your not a bloody victim
I think you are the cause.
so before you point the finger.
On that thought. --- just pause.

An Angry day

by

Michael Pudney

Im not well known for anger.
But sometimes it breaks through.
And normally this feeling .
Is reserved for you.

Anger comes in many forms.
Retribution and or violence
and on this occasion,
my angers caused by silence.

Your to afraid to face me
In case you feel some guilt.
Not because you fear a knife,
Inserted to the hilt.

For you know that I won't hurt you.
With a bullet or a rope.
But you fear the words, that I will say.
For with the truth, you cannot cope.

So go about your merry way.
Avoid reality's of your life.
As after all,it seems you were a.
shit mum, shit friend, shit wife.

Man on a bench

by

Michael Pudney

An angry man, sat on a bench in the park,
You would not have known, his anger
To the outside world, he was just quiet.

Nothing was shown, by the state of his dress
You would not have seen his anger
But it was, there none the less.

I watched as the people all quietly passed by.
And then just for an instance
tears welled in his eye.

A quick thump on the bench,with a glance to the sky
>From my secluded location
I watched that man cry

I wanted to ask what tormented so much.
Or what in his palm
He so tightly did clutch.

Instead I just left him alone with his mind
Hoping in solitude
Peace he would find

Vampire in our life

by

Michael Pudney

Not alive, but not yet truly dead.
A cold grey box, replaced my comfy bed.
Waking nightly in a rage
No respite from, immortal cage.

My mirror shows no fond reflection.
Of my once well worn complexion
Just shadow of my former self
Where Palid skin, shows failing health.

I recall no vampire’s breath
Leaving me so close to death
Or, no oozing puncture wound
Which left me feeling cold and doomed.

According to legend and ancient script
Drakul comes rising each night from his crypt.
Taking many different form
Then disappears each day at dawn.

I think I know the shape it took
When from my neck the blood it took
Casting me with zombie spell
And leaving me so close to hell.

I now recall the dazzling eyes.
Which though I try, I cant despise.
My rush to find a wooden stake
My silver bullet fired too late.

Mesmerising in its wake
But gone before the dawn did break
A subtle smile a golden hue
I know now that, the count was you

PLayoff defeat

by

Michael Pudney

The young team, all have play their best
We shouldn't ask for any more.
And after 90 Minutes
We had achieved a draw

The Ginger one was awesome
And Derry worked so hard
And Clint Hill was unlucky
To receive that yellow Card

The Palace Massive once again
Tried to Play their part
By constant cheer and chanting
No one was lacking heart.

And, for 1 short minute
We, were wembley bound
Until I heard the ball strike wood
With such a sickening sound.

I do not blame poor Watson
He stood up to the plate
And its just, a football match.
So we shouldn’t get Irate

And unlike the glory hunters
We'll be back in future years
For we're proud to follow Palace
Through Happiness or Tears

And if you take a ribbing
>From Man U Fan or Blue
Don’t forget to ask them.
which games, that they go to.

And where they were in 1970
When both there teams were S
And if that doesn’t shut them up
Tell them they're a T

Unfinished Story

by

Michael Pudney

I think of a story
I'd like to tell
The start and the middle
I know so well.

But when it comes to the ending
my mind goes blank.
should the ship be floating free
Or should it have sank.

I think of a story
I'd like to tell
The start and the middle
I know so well.

I cannot deliver
A closing page.
Just like the Movie star, who
Never wants toleave the stage.

I think of a story
I'd like to tell
The start and the middle
I know so well.

So the tale is unfinished.
and a new ones begun.
You may not like, the intrigue
But you can never, question the fun.

So I think of a story
I'd like to tell
The start and the middle
you know so well.
We know so well

Rhythm of Robbie williams "No regrets"

Prisoner to my heart

by

Michael Pudney

Tunefull chorus Rap style Verse

To my own heart, i'm a prisoner.
In my whole life, I've been a fool.
but i'd rather live with honesty
Than own, every priceless jewel.

I see the gangster with golden teeth.
But remove his visace what's left underneath.
Just muscle and bone, like a beggar or refugee.
Without the fruitz of his crime he's no better, than u or me

To my own heart, i'm a prisoner.
In my whole life, I've been a fool.
but i'd rather live with honesty
Than own, every priceless jewel.

The soccer star with his minder and trophy wife.
Seems to have a perfect job and a peefect life.
But when his entourage and looks r long gone.
Will he get satisfaction from the medals that he won

To my own heart, i'm a prisoner.
In my whole life, I've been a fool.
but i'd rather live with honesty
Than own, every priceless jewel.

The politicians write their memoirs
about fancy houses and diplomatic cars.
But when they reflex on the world they created
I hope that their egos are quickly deflated.

To my own heart, i'm a prisoner.
In my whole life, I've been a fool.
but i'd rather live with honesty
Than own, every priceless jewel.

The world is full of men like us, who do not own that much,
But they are still important, through the people they touch.
We aren't blessed with fame or skill or wealth.
But we know our own true self

To my own heart, i'm a prisoner.
In my whole life, I've been a fool.
but i'd rather live with honesty
Than own, ever worthless jewel.

The fruits of our Labour

by

Michael Pudney

The fruits of our labour

Were left growing too long

As the time for the harvest

Always, seemed to be wrong

Now were left with the wind fall

With the bees and the birds

And whilst we know its all over

We some how, cant find the words

Oh how I long for the spring time

When our love was in bloom

And a sweet smelling fragrance

Filled up every room.

But the fruits of our Labour

Were left growing too long

And the time for the harvest

Always, seemed to be wrong

Could we plant one more season

Whilst the orchards still there

How Id love to see the blossom

Shining through your hair

With Sunlight still beaming

Through the fruit on the trees

I would gently fall down

Before you on my knees

Or has the fruit of our labour

Been fallow to long

And has the time for the harvest

Simply, past us by and gone

Reborn

by

Michael Pudney



Sifting through these PhotoGraphs
Reminds me of the laughter
And the heartfelt promises
Of happy ever after
But the images are faded
And the corners are all torn
If I could just forget you
Then perhaps I’d be reborn

Be Reborn
Into a world of Kindness
Be Reborn
With clear bright skies above
Be Reborn
And look towards the future
Surround ded by a pure untainted love

My mind is full of memories
Of happy times together
The tenderness and caring
Which we swore would last forever
But its hard to picture clearly
As I wake at this new dawn
If I could just forget you
Then perhaps I’d be reborn

Be Reborn
Into a world of Kindness
Be Reborn
With clear bright skies above
Be Reborn
And look towards the future
Surround ded by a pure untainted love

As I sit and watch our videos
I catch myself just smiling
As I realised the love we had
Just suffered from bad timing
So I’ll rewind to the start again
And watch them til they’re worn
For I know I cant forget you
And don’t need to be reborn

I’m Reborn
Into a world of Kindness
I’m Reborn
With clear bright skies above
Im Reborn
And look towards the future
With memories of a pure untainted love

ultimate revenge

by

Michael Pudney

Revenge a dish that’s best served cold

like ice-cream and fruit salad.

Let crescendo slowly build

As in a good rock Ballad

Just as the tensions building

And a guitar quietly cries

Introduce a chorus

That strikes between the eyes

The crowd, may not all like it

But its there, inside their head

And will stop them, sleeping

Each night they lie in bed.

they’ll curse the day they heard it

and its catching simple tone

and they wake each day just screaming

‘ I feckin hate Boyzone’

Forever Unsung

by

Michael Pudney

I wanted to write a love song
But there’s no one, I want to, sing too
So I sat down and wrote a quick melody
To stop myself feeling so blue

I do not have to clean the car
Or make sure that the washings done
You do not make me lie on beaches
At the first hint of the sun.
If I want to stay out late
Its my choosing if I do.
If I want to watch the football
I do not have to think of you.

I wanted to write a love song
But theres, noone here to, sing it too
So I wrote this simple melody
So I won’t feel lonely and blue

I eat Chinese for my breakfast
Cigarettes and beer for tea.
Finished off with chocolate Ice-cream
With a little deep fried Brie.
I get up when I want to.
Feel comfy in a crowd.
And if I’m feeling so inclined
I play rock music Fucking loud.

So I never wrote a love song
And sang it out to you
As now I’ve found this melody
I don’t feel lonely, sad or blue.

I stay in at the weekends
And watch my large TV
If I buy new clothing
There’s no one there to see.
There is no conversation
Noones mind who cant be read
And when I go to bed at night
Noone gentle strokes my head

Still I cant write a love song
As it never would be heard
and the meaning in this melody
might be, forever blurred.

Forever Unsung

by

Michael Pudney

I wanted to write a love song
But there’s no one, I want to, sing too
So I sat down and wrote a quick melody
To stop myself feeling so blue

I do not have to clean the car
Or make sure that the washings done
You do not make me lie on beaches
At the first hint of the sun.
If I want to stay out late
Its my choosing if I do.
If I want to watch the football
I do not have to think of you.

I wanted to write a love song
But theres, noone here to, sing it too
So I wrote this simple melody
So I won’t feel lonely and blue

I eat Chinese for my breakfast
Cigarettes and beer for tea.
Finished off with chocolate Ice-cream
With a little deep fried Brie.
I get up when I want to.
Feel comfy in a crowd.
And if I’m feeling so inclined
I play rock music Fucking loud.

So I never wrote a love song
And sang it out to you
As now I’ve found this melody
I don’t feel lonely, sad or blue.

I stay in at the weekends
And watch my large TV
If I buy new clothing
There’s no one there to see.
There is no conversation
Noones mind who cant be read
And when I go to bed at night
Noone gentle strokes my head

Still I cant write a love song
As it never would be heard
and the meaning in this melody
might be, forever blurred.

Forever Unsung

by

Michael Pudney

I wanted to write a love song
But there’s no one, I want to, sing too
So I sat down and wrote a quick melody
To stop myself feeling so blue

I do not have to clean the car
Or make sure that the washings done
You do not make me lie on beaches
At the first hint of the sun.
If I want to stay out late
Its my choosing if I do.
If I want to watch the football
I do not have to think of you.

I wanted to write a love song
But theres, noone here to, sing it too
So I wrote this simple melody
So I won’t feel lonely and blue

I eat Chinese for my breakfast
Cigarettes and beer for tea.
Finished off with chocolate Ice-cream
With a little deep fried Brie.
I get up when I want to.
Feel comfy in a crowd.
And if I’m feeling so inclined
I play rock music Fucking loud.

So I never wrote a love song
And sang it out to you
As now I’ve found this melody
I don’t feel lonely, sad or blue.

I stay in at the weekends
And watch my large TV
If I buy new clothing
There’s no one there to see.
There is no conversation
Noones mind who cant be read
And when I go to bed at night
Noone gentle strokes my head

Still I cant write a love song
As it never would be heard
and the meaning in this melody
might be, forever blurred.

Pot Noodles

by

Michael Pudney

They called us the, pot noodles.
On account of the time that we took.
For we were assembled quite quickly
Just add water and no need to cook..

The look was to some quite deceptive
When served with a garnish in style
And the taste to us all was appealing
And that was the truth for a while.

The aromas that came from our Kitchen
Suggested a homemade affair
But if you had looked in our cupboards
No ingredients would you find there.

So when all the Diners were finished
And the aftertaste started to hit
The meal that, we had just all eaten
Unpleasant in stomach, did sit.

it was made, just for speed and convenience.
Its ingredients processed and dried.
It might have been as healthy
If fatty bangers we had fried.

They might not promise French café
Or sophisticated dinning
But then again they wouldn’t rot
Your inner stomach Lining.

But I cant deny, the taste was good
And the carton was appealing to
But it should say on the label
" you’ll spend the next year on the loo’

Pot Noodles

by

Michael Pudney

They called us the, pot noodles.
On account of the time that we took.
For we were assembled quite quickly
Just add water and no need to cook..

The look was to some quite deceptive
When served with a garnish in style
And the taste to us all was appealing
And that was the truth for a while.

The aromas that came from our Kitchen
Suggested a homemade affair
But if you had looked in our cupboards
No ingredients would you find there.

So when all the Diners were finished
And the aftertaste started to hit
The meal that, we had just all eaten
Unpleasant in stomach, did sit.

it was made, just for speed and convenience.
Its ingredients processed and dried.
It might have been as healthy
If fatty bangers we had fried.

They might not promise French café
Or sophisticated dinning
But then again they wouldn’t rot
Your inner stomach Lining.

But I cant deny, the taste was good
And the carton was appealing to
But it should say on the label
" you’ll spend the next year on the loo’

dont hate the player

by

Michael Pudney

don't hate the player.
hate the game.
in many ways
they're both the same.
you chose the game.
you took the field.
but you don't do teams
it soon revealed

magnificent beings

by

Michael Pudney

magnificent being,
women and girls.
cute smiling faces,
all blushes and curls.

until they are riled
for some unknown act.
then their cuteness will vanish.
and you'll likely get wacked

Did I

by

Michael Pudney

Did I, let you down
Do you think, I told a lie
Did I really
Did I really
Make you cry

Could we take things back
Back to where we started
Just back before
Just back before
The day we parted

Did I, let you down
Do you think, I told a lie
Did I really
Did I really
Make you cry

I never meant to, hurt you
I just lost my clutch
on the love I had
and the love I had
Proved to be, to much

Did I, let you down
Do you think, I told a lie
Did I really
Did I really
Make you cry

Could we meet again
Take things nice and slow
And maybe then
Just maybe then
Trust would, once more grow

If I let you down
If you think I told a lie
Im so soryy
You don’t know how sorry
That I made you cry

Forthcoming Holiday

by

Michael Pudney

There’s 2 weeks to go, and I’m getting excited.
It doesn’t take to much to make me this way
And by counting in weeks, I avoided the problems
Of whether to count, or to leave out today.

The weatherman tells me, its gonna be sunny.
But he’s called Mr Fish, so I have my doubt
But whatever the weather, I heard that the bowling
Is predicted to be, a south London rout.

The poker dice Table, is packed and resurfaced
To avoid quirky bounces, its been neatly brushed.
A crowd is amassing, all round the table
Eagerly waiting, all silent and hushed.

The Rounders Pitch, once knarled and bumpy.
Is now pristine and rolled quite flat.
Eric and Earnie in the gantry
Both Sport impressive, brand new hats.

The ladies , though reduced in number
Will watch the frollicks from afar
Why would they put on, their nice gym slips
When there’s cheap drinks at the bar.

space travel

by

Michael Pudney

Zero minus four and counting,

Our systems are all set to go.

And even though the clock is ticking,

The seconds seem to pass real slow.

Supplies are being gently loaded,

Tested to confirm their Taste.

Final checks before the lift off,

The route has been all neatly traced.

But wait:

I think I have forgotten

My womens shoes and fairy dress

Do I need to pack some ribbons

In case my hair should look a mess.

And what about my special suncream

Do you get burnt up in space.

I’ll go and get some factor Twenty,

And slip it just inside my case.

A Book A Book I need some reading

To pass away a quiet hour

And what about a little raincoat

Just in case we get a shower;

Oh now Im getting in a panic

The things to you need to take a roam

Maybe I should not have bothered

Closed my door and stayed at home.

Dirty Linen

by

Michael Pudney

I write when I am happy
I write when I am sad
I write to ease my anger
Or to tell the world Im glad

For sometimes its not easy
Just To say the way I feel
But when I write in couplets
The emotion seems, more real.

Someday my friends and enemies
Will discover all this tosh
And then my dirty linen
Will be well and truly washed