Water Workers

So many water workers

Keeping the water flowing

Whether in their homes or not

Keeping the country going

Fixing pipes, the leaks the floods

Putting their lives on the line

Though you can thank them

Dont get close!

Give them 2m all the time! 

There's folk in the labs

Keeping your water safe

Tasting and testing for us.

They can't stay at home

And still do their job

They have to be in work with no fuss.

There's people on phones

Juggling children, pets homes

Keeping your finances steady

They are there to help you

Wherever they are. The water folk always are ready. 

The ones working drains

They know who to blame

When the poo starts to back up the pipes

It's people who didn't quite get the message.

DONT FLUSH THEM . ..PLEASE WILL YOU BIN WIPES!

But they know you matter, and you play your part

In times when a virus is for us gunning.

So #stayathome now if you can and they will

do their best to #keepthewaterrunning 

Full English Brexit

Full English Brexit

I've tried to understand

I've tried to make some sense

of where we're going with this "plan"

I think until I'm tense

To see the other side

Is the way I've always thought

But no one tells me 

The good things this purports

Will we get more good jobs

Will food be cheaper still?

Will people stop attacking others

And get healthcare when they're ill? 

Where's the money gone?

And why does it always appear

When they need to pay for their cockups

So No Deal is not to be feared?

Yellowhammer was kept under wraps

By the interest-vested old chaps

And the truth has still failed to slay them

With an anagram that is Orwell Mayhem.

Countless millions wasted on greed

instead of attending to dire public need.

I'm ashamed of our country

It's lost its own way

I hope it never comes

Our No Deal Brexit Day

Someone Stole My Spacehopper...a poem by Joanne oliver

Someone Stole My Spacehopper

Someone stole my Space Hopper in 1979.
I didn't have much to myself
But that Space Hopper was mine.
At the bottom of our garden in my den under a tree
I hid my orange friend there and went in for my tea.
Some skally took a liking to my Hopper and took it away.
I'll never know who did this thing to this very day.
I'd had years of fun bouncing around on him.
Doing handstands over him and using him like a gym.
If you see a lonely space hopper in the West side of Hull.
Send him back to me and of happiness I will be full.

Someone's Son....a poem about homelessness

Someone's Son

From the point that you were born
You were loved and adored
As your mother held her hands out
And you tottered across the floor
A giant step for tiny man
To learn to walk and speak
And Daddy planned your future
Putting cash away each week.

Now you look down at your fingers
Nails all darkened with the dirt
Avoiding eyes of those who pass
Some spitting words that hurt

You were not to blame for this you know
The road your life has taken
Each day a struggle to survive
As in a doorway you awaken

Stuff happens in a family
People die, a marriage falters
There's times when there is no safe place
For a family's sons and daughters.

You try each day to carry on
Avoiding those who'll sway you
With obliviating substances
That eventually will slay you

Still they look away from you
And think you're the afflicted
You're not. Not you. You've kept it clean.
You're not as yet, addicted.

But every day is harder now
The hope of rescue waning
A young man is not vulnerable
And needs no help when it's raining

But once you were someone's son
Someone's pride and joy
Inside you still are, afraid and lost
A homeless little boy.

More Guns!

More Guns

More guns.

 Need more guns.

 Arm the kids.

 Arm the mums.

 More guns more guns.

 Arm the ones twiddling their thumbs.

 Arm the dogs.

 Arm the cats.

 Arm the birds in the trees perhaps.

 Arm the cows against the bolt.

 Arm the saddest, brainless dolt. 

Give a gun to aunty Dot ...she's only happy when it's smoking hot.

 Arm the left. 

And arm the right.

 See who gun is biggest in a fight.

 We can't lose guns, get that in your head. 

We'll arm them all until we're all dead.

(C) Joanne Oliver 2018 .....18:52

Die, Die Dementia, a poem by Joanne Oliver

Die, Die Dementia

There’s one true path they say

No: a maze of paths with no clear way

I like the grass, the sand and mud

The random walking does me good

Hard pavements hurts my feet and soul

I get no closer to my goal

By staying on the well worn street

There'd be fixed challenges I'd meet

Neurones lose their links and wither

If I don’t digress and dither

Embrace the new, and drop the old

Watch as stories new unfold

My brain’s in danger this I know

If I don’t force it to grow

New links and circuits every day

To keep the ATD at bay

It may be futile what I’m trying

But it’s better than sitting crying

Thinking I’m going like she did

While from the truth my family hid.

Heard the words from her “who’s that”

As she spied me in my wedding hat.

I  hope my son never hears that from me.

I know I’ll write some poetry!

Wind Ya Neck In Missis.

I see a lot of things go on

In music theatre, things going wrong.

I try to keep my nose quite clean

And turn a blind eye to what's seen

It's hard though as a know-it-all

To ignore the stories, blank the falls

Feeling a duty to forewarn the others

As if I'm the culture fairy godmother

That's what I'm not no matter what I've seen

I'm just someone who's in the scene.

I need to stop being a keyboard junkie

It's not my circus, they're not my monkeys.

So time it is to take a break

From social media, mind's at stake.

If I'm not workin' I'll just sometimes check in

And at last, oh joy, I'll wind my neck in.