The Ugly Grubbly.

Once upon a yucky time lived a grubbly gringly monster groo

He jiggled in the midnight sun

and feasted on wibbly bungaroos

 

He gribbled beyond the wobbly fronds and bumbled in the forest froo

He wimbled with the flowersong

and with the frimbles flew.

 

Once upon an ugly time when gringle monsters knew

That clovely bubbly mischief makers

Made life worth living true.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

For d’Verse poetics.

 

Pakaru

The car is at the garage

The engine is Kaput

Another worry in the bag

And now it won’t stay shut.

 

We appear to haemorrhage money

There’ll soon be nothing left

It isn’t remotely funny

Friends family fortitude bereft.

 

Pakaru and redundant

For all my story’s worth

Broken beyond replacement

Nothing left but mirth.

 

© Alison Jean Hankinson

Pakaru- broken for Mental Health Awareness week 2018.

 

 

 

 

Clangers…..

We are knitted clanger creatures

Living far away from earth

We don’t have diabetes

But we do have lots of mirth.

 

We live off blue string pudding

And green soup for dessert

We have a lovely soup dragon

Whose baby is said to slurp.

 

We have some friendly froglets

Iron chicken in starry sky lurks

We harvest notes from music trees

Hoots make our tiny clangers chirp.

 

We whistle through the day

We whistle through the night

We whistle for the children

To make their day more bright.

 

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

Friday night cheer up in Mental Health Awareness week 2018.

Image taken from Flickr labelled for non commercial re-use.

 

 

I don’t belong to you…the voice of a lover crossed.

I don’t belong to you

I never did

I was just a borrowed shirt

An accessory of sorts

To compliment your crass existence

I wasn’t yours to own.

 

We danced all night, our bodies entwined

It was love at first sight,

We belonged together forever.

But at the end of the night

You were gone.

I was alone.

 

Do you want jam with your toast?

I prefer eggs she thought.

Is this my life I see before me?

Always him before me, and he can’t even see

Always sugar in tea, no chance to be free

No room for me.

 

I had his head on a platter

Silver ornate, shiny no blood spatter

It was the only way to win you see

I got to be loved and adored

Play the field, chair the board

And still be me.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

.

Puddled

Some days I have brain fog, it is part of my illness or disease-puddled,

it is like swimming in porridge and I  can see things clear as mud.

 

In the muddle

my life is befuddled

As I try to unriddle

my addled mind.

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson

For d”verse quadrille on “Muddled”

A little bit of light-heartedness. I suspect the answer is a relaxing cream tea somewhere…..

 

 

Passing it down the line….it is in the genes.

I inherited her laugh

It resonated in any room, raucous,

Cackle, guffaw, chortle and undeniably unstoppable.

An energy an emission of unadulterated joy

Everyone knew she was there.

“It’s only for kids missus!”- that was Ken Dodd puppeteer extraordinaire.

King of the diddy men.

“Alison- Your mum’s here…

I just heard her laugh.”

 

©Alison Jean Hankinson.

For poetics at d”verse and for Day 24 of Napowrimo 18.

I am sorry girls but you definitely have it too…long may we laugh. XXXX love you Mumma. XXX

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