Recent Comments

Poems from my book 'Chapter and Verse by Marilyn Lambert'
Second Edition 2002 Published by UpFront Publishing Leicestershire. Available from internet bookshops around the world.



FOG

A stormy sky on a winter’s night
The street lamps shedding their gentle light,
Pavements glistening from the pouring rain,
As I view the world through my window-pane.
A man in the street out walking his dog,
His breath in the air like a London fog…..
As the Nation mourns the death of their King
He wonders just what the future will bring.

For me safe inside my cosy home
Peace was all I had ever known,
But, he fought for his Country with honour and pride,
Though many a friend was wounded and died.
‘Ashes to ashes and dust to dust’….
‘For King and Country if we must’….
The battle still raging - an army to quell
Gave him no time to whisper that fond farewell!
With one roll of the dice his fate was cast….
Each new day dawning might be his last.

Home from his walk in the evening fog
He sits by the fire with his faithful dog….
Looks at his medals and holds back a tear,
For each moment in battle was filled with fear.
With memories still very clear in his mind,
He honours each comrade he left behind…
With a prayer to his Maker for all wars to cease,
An end to the fighting - and World Peace….
He slumps in his chair his dog at his feet
Breathes a sigh of remorse and falls fast asleep….



CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

As I sit here alone in the evening gloom
Fond memories from childhood fill the room.
A sea of faces and images bright
Come flooding-in, no end in sight….
Times remembered from long ago,
When life was simple, and the pace was slow!

Boiled eggs and toast to start the day,
School assembly, heads bowed to pray.
Standing in line when you heard the bell.
Keeping silent though you’re bursting ‘to tell’.
Learning Times Tables and your ABC.
My friend Kay coming round for tea.
Those uniform gym-slips of bottle green.
Being picked first for the net-ball team.
My painting pinned on the classroom wall.
Grazed knees or elbows after a fall.
Top of the class in a spelling test
And a coloured star for being ‘the best..’
Five coloured, three silver and then a gold.
(Still on the page even now I’m old.)
Wellington boots for the pouring rain.
Jumping in puddles down School Lane.
Afraid to pass by that garden gate,
In case the Bully was lying in wait!
Kiss Chase in the playground with all the boys.
Christmas morning with our brand-new toys.

Fish ‘n’ chip suppers on a Friday night.
Winding Mum’s wool, no end in sight,
As she knitted that jumper or scarf for Dad,
‘The best birthday present he’s ever had!’
My brother, David making model ‘planes.
Rolling on the grass trying not to get stains!
That carpet of primroses down in the wood.
A story at bedtime if we were good,
With witches and wizards, dragons and knights,
Everyone putting the world to rights!
Church bells ringing on a Sunday morn.
The beggar-man with his clothes all worn,
Selling matches, shoe black and long boot laces,
Searching for pity on our hardened faces.
His legs blown-off in the Second World War,
Surely wondering what it had all been for!
Yorkshire Pudding with the Sunday roast.
Real coal fires and stale bread to toast.
Gas Lamps flickering in a gloomy street.
Friday night ‘Pictures’ our special treat.

That smell of Spring flowers and morning dew.
Walking to school with shoes brand-new.
The first day of May when we picked our Queen
And all the innocent laughter in-between!
Dancing round the May-pole wearing pretty flowers.
My head in a book for hours and hours.
Persuading Dad to let me sit on his lap.
Granpy Taylor always taking a snap.
That Mother’s Day card hidden under my bed.
Never too old for ‘little Ted!’
Sandown Canoe Lake and Shanklin Pier.
Too young for the theatre - maybe next year.
Egg and chips as a treat for tea.
Going in the steamer across the sea!
Something ‘not nice’ stuck to my shoe!
Penny-in-the-slot for the Ladies’ Loo.
Hearing news that the old King was dead
And we’re going to have a Queen instead.
Elizabeth crowned on a golden throne.
A kitten to love and call my own.

At the height of summer leaving-off your vest.
Seeing Mum in her deck-chair enjoying the rest.
Gob-stoppers, licorice and Sherbet Dabs.
Paddling in rock pools and finding crabs.
Sunburn painful on your back and nose!
Wet sand squelching between your toes.
My knitted swimsuits that got ‘the moth’.
Wiping sticky hands with that soapy cloth.
Dad’s Punch and Judy on a Summers Day,
Promising him not to get-in-the-way!
Queuing for donkey rides, and fizzy pop,
Running so fast that your feet won’t stop.
Ice cream cornets starting to melt.
The biggest bruise you’ve ever felt!
Eating a toffee when your tooth was loose.
Going to that panto’ called Mother Goose.
Being asked-out by boys and saying ‘Yes’.
Wearing layers of petticoats under your dress.
Back-row at the pictures, such heavenly bliss!
Those innocent fumblings, and very first kiss….

How long I sat there I just don’t know!
Remembering those times so long ago
When life was simple…and the pace was slow!



THE EMPTY HOUSE

No sound can be heard in the empty house
Save the scampering feet of a tiny mouse
As she patters across the dusty floor
In search of food for her dwindling store.
With her eyes wide open and in constant fear
She anxiously listens lest any come near.
But, no one is waiting to catch her today,
So she sighs with relief and scurries away.

A spider is weaving his web on high
Wondering how many flies will die,
For caught in his trap of sticky glue
There is nothing else that they can do!
Though they wriggle and squirm with all their might
There’ll be no escape from their piteous plight.
Whilst outside in the garden the weeds work fast,
Free from the gardener’s hoe at last.
They thrive and flourish with ample room,
Grow fresh young shoots and exotic blooms.
The garden fence is all broken down.
The two iron gates turned a rusty brown.
The gravel paths overgrown with weeds,
While the once tidy lawn has quite gone to seed.

A fox lies basking under the tree,
Safely hidden, so no one can see!
He has watched the seasons come and go
For how many years we’ll never know.
Roaming those leafy suburbs at night,
He can scavenge at will, no foe in sight.
No constant struggle just to stay alive,
He sleeps content knowing he’ll survive.
With no fear of capture to cause him pain,
The garden has become his sole domain.

From under the eaves a bird takes flight,
Making countless journeys before it’s night.
For her nest is filled with a precious brood
And her constant struggle is to find them food!
Whilst under the hedge crouched very low
Is Mog the cat, her tireless foe!
But, she spied him there as her wings took flight,
So she’ll not make a supper for him tonight.
Still, many a tale could that old house tell,
Of mice and men caught under it’s spell!

Yes, many a tale could that old house tell
Of years gone by when all was well,
For once it stood full of style and grace,
Bright painted shutters on its southern face,
Chintz curtains blowing in a summer breeze,
Or, fires banked high to prevent a freeze.
Children with voices so full of laughter,
Once played their games underneath each rafter.
Their dressing-up clothes in the oaken chest,
With forgotten toys still laid to rest.

Tom’s rocking horse stands there all-forlorn,
With Emma’s doll, now tattered and torn.
The family album once viewed with pride
Lies forgotten now, just tossed aside
With that well-thumbed book of Children’s Rhymes
And the Nursery clock with familiar chimes….
All gathering dust and bathed in gloom
With the faded chairs from the music room.

But, who is that walking along the street
With a little dog prancing round their feet?
They’re coming this way - right up to the door
Bringing boxes and baskets and things galore.
Now the silence is broken as we here a voice say….
“Mum, are we moving in here today?”



MY PRINCE

On the pillow close beside me,
But a stranger all the same.
How I long for times remembered,
When you whispered, soft, my name...
For years you’ve called me Mother,
Though the children, all have grown.
Why so long to discover
We were really on our own?

Wispy grey-streaked tendrils,
More parting now than hair.
Teeth asleep beside you
In the glass upon the chair.
Where, oh, where is my handsome prince?
Where is my long-lost lover?
Where is the man who stole my heart?
Will I ever re-discover?

As I lie and watch you dreaming,
As I look into your face
It seems as though an Angel
Has come to take your place...
You wake from slumber smiling
Reach-out and touch my hand,
The light of day is dawning and
I think you understand...

You tell me that you love me
I’m telling you the same
As I hear you softly whisper
And call me by my name!
A miracle has happened,
I’m free of all my pain,
As loving arms enfold me,
You’re my handsome prince again!



MINIMUM WAGE GUARANTEED

I’m out of work - unemployed,
My self-esteem has been destroyed….
Forced to stand in that endless queue….
I bet you’re glad it isn’t YOU!

I swallow my pride - fight-back a tear….
Pretend that I’m not really here.
As they poke and pry into my affairs
I seem to sense nobody cares.

I don’t try to argue - it’s been decreed,
Fifty-one forty is all I need….
Just sign the forms and seal your fate….
Promise that you won’t be late.

But, I’ll soon find work - I’m full of hope….
Must convince myself that I can cope.
As savings dwindle I’m not so sure….
I wonder just what its all been for!

I worked so hard to make the grade.
Success now a memory soon to fade….
Skills, experience, they count for naught….
I’ve nothing left that can be bought.

I’m ‘over the hill’ at forty-five.
No choices left but to survive….
I’ll take anything now just to succeed
With Minimum Wage Guaranteed!



LOST LOVE?

Had I chosen to alter my accustomed course?
Or, had I been directed by some unknown force?
With no strength to resist - I felt compelled to stop
Outside that window of the antiques shop.
All I could do was stand and stare
At the ‘Painting in Oils’ exhibited there.
It’s title ‘Lost Love’ in a flowing hand….
A young girl alone, barefoot in the sand.
Were those tears in her eyes, I couldn’t be sure?
For evening approached and the light was poor.
As the gentle breeze touched her golden hair,
Her eyes met mine - in an hypnotic stare,
And I sensed a great sadness was hidden there,
So, I offered-up a heart-felt prayer
That she would find her lover and be content….
(I’d guessed that was what the title meant.)

* * *

I could feel the sun now warm on my face….
But, of the antiques shop there was now no trace.
I was standing alone on that sandy shore….
With no sign of the girl who was there before….
I started to run - unsure of the way,
Or what part in all this I was meant to play…
I was driven-on by that unknown force
And could only wait till it ran it’s course!
Then, rounding a bend in the cove I could see
Exactly where I was meant to be!
That girl with her lover, barefoot on the sand,
A happier ending I could not have planned.
Whilst above them the sky turned a soft pink then gold
I witnessed a miracle start to unfold….
They turned to each other, then fondly embraced.
Of tears or sadness there was no trace,
And as I looked closer, with no surprise
I could see the glow of contentment in their eyes.

* * *

Once more in the street by the antiques shop
I was caught in that spell and just had to stop.
The painting ‘Lost Love’ was still sitting there,
But, as I fixed my gaze and continued to stare
It began to change right in front of my eyes…
But, I knew the reason - it was no surprise….

I could see once again that sandy shore,
With the golden-haired girl just as before
But, no hidden sadness for me to discover
For she stood arm in arm with her handsome lover.
Yes, together again - just as it was meant….
And the title - now changing to read….‘Content’
Yes, someone had answered my silent prayer….
It was surely the reason why I’d been there!



I’VE NOTHING TO WEAR!

He’s asked me to go to his firm’s Christmas Dinner.
(I wish I was younger and much, much, thinner!)
But, I must make the effort, I ought to be there….
Though, one little problem…I’ve nothing to wear!

Whilst I’m there in the shop those clothes look fine.
(Is that slim, youthful figure really mine?)
But, when I get home - as if by magic
They’ve totally changed - it’s really quite tragic….

That close-fitting dress that looked so divine
Is now two sizes smaller - it can’t be mine!
And that glorious blue, to my great surprise
Has turned sickly green in front of my eyes!

But, I’m not giving-in, I’ll try once more.
I want to succeed, it’s worth fighting-for!
My spending sprees are no longer exciting.
(It must be the mirrors or maybe the lighting.)

Yes, I’ve read all the books and magazines,
Listened to advice from those fashion queens
Who tell us how easy it is to look stunning.
But, one glance in my mirror - I feel like running!

Perhaps in an effort to look fantastic
I should settle for something made of elastic….
Or, should I just buy two sizes bigger
On account of my quite unpredictable figure?

Though, I’m still hanging-on to my ‘Sizes 10’
They will fit me one day - just a question of when!
My hubby will laugh and say - chuck the lot!
I wonder if he is in-on-the-plot!

No, I’ve looked and considered with consummate care
Though the wardrobe is bursting, I’ve still nothing to wear!



PROFIT AND LOSS

We have to succeed - to stay on the map,
So, cuts are vital to close that gap.
With profits down, the future is bleak
Can you see a way forward, if so, please speak?

Re-structure the work-force, you know it works.
Halve their salaries, forget those perks.
If they don’t like it they can choose to decline.
There are plenty more out there just waiting in line!

We’ve all got commitments, kids away at schools.
If we want to keep going we can’t stick to the rules.
We’re trailing behind, I have to agree.
If I get to choose, then its them, not me!

* * * * *

You’ve stared at the computer till your eyes are sore
But, you’ve still not finished, there’s much, much more!
Though you’re mentally drained, almost ready to drop,
You have to keep going, you dare not stop….
So, to step-up production, you quicken your pace,
Ensure you’re a contender in this endless race.
For someone is looking at you from behind
And you know EXACTLY what’s going-on in their mind….

They’re ‘re-structuring the work-force’, ‘scaling-down’
However its put would cause you to frown….
And should anyone leave, there is little doubt….
You’d take a share of their work-load, so, just watch-out!
With their job then re-graded, salary reduced by half,
Surely, somebody out there is having a laugh!
Now, someone is looking at you from behind
And you know EXACTLY what’s going-on in their mind….

But, you can’t lose your job, you’ve a family to keep.
No wonder you’re finding it so hard to sleep!
Now pushed very hard up-against that wall,
You have to convince them you’re still on-the-ball.
You daren’t show a weakness or lack of control,
Or, yours is the next likely head to roll!
For someone is looking at you from behind
And you know EXACTLY what’s going-on in their mind….



FOOD FOR THOUGHT

I can’t say I’m keen
On that Nouvelle Cuisine,
Or, the chefs who do linger,
(Lovingly?) fondle and finger..
Making layers so neat
With those slices of meat.
It just fails to impress….
I like food simple, I guess….

No more blobs on the plate
Of that sauce that I hate….
Rich chocolate with Game!
How do they explain?
Though it’s colour and style
I’ve not seen for a while!
Resembling Van Gogh or Picasso?

Yes, I love eating-out
There is little doubt….
But, can’t get in the mood
For that picturesque food.
(It’s not up for debate -
Just something I hate.)
I’m not changing my plans
I’m still eating at ‘Gran’s’

They can keep all their artistic ‘somethings’
Just give me her beef stew and dumplings!
That old-fashioned flavour
I definitely savour….
And I’m ever so grateful
For that whacking great plateful
With gravy much richer
Than any old picture
Resembling Van Gogh or Picasso!



GENERATION GAP

Each generation that falls behind
Is accused of being in-sensitive, blind,
But, I don’t want this to be said of me,
As I’m on your side…why can’t you see?

So, you’ve shaved your hair and pierced your tongue
And I wouldn’t do that when I was young!
But, I still had ideals worth fighting for.
The same strong emotions I couldn’t ignore

I was taught the rules and made them bend.
You haven’t invented a brand new trend.
I fought for my freedom just like you.
Its what all young people try to do!

So, you’ve found your voice and I don’t understand.
Did you forget so soon you were never planned.
It wasn’t as easy as it is today
To have an abortion or ‘give it away.’

I had to be strong my mind was set, clear
And I stuck it out.. that’s why you’re here.
But, I’ve no regrets or nagging doubt
No matter how you might scream and shout!

I do understand that you are unique….
Just be still for a moment…let me speak….
You can be who you are and go any place,
Do whatever you like to that pretty face.

But, I know deep-down that you love me still
Even though you’re saying you wish me ill.
Just remember these words if you’re ever in doubt
I do understand what it’s all about!



PROGRESS?

No more roast beef or Yorkshire Pud.
They’ll be a thing of the past and gone for good.
No more crops and no more farmers….
No E’s or additives that could harm us.
But, we won’t be starving or falling ill….
We’ve found the answer, just take a pill.

Just one-per-day will meet our needs.
(In two seconds flat a Nation feeds!)
They’ll come in colours for you to choose,
Reds and yellows, greens and blues.
But, we won’t be starving or falling ill….
We’ve found the answer, its that little pill.

So, you just fancy something quick and tasty,
But, remember Progress and don’t be hasty!
For the cupboards are bare, there’s no point looking.
No need to shop if there’s no more cooking!
But, we won’t be starving or falling ill
We’ve found the answer, that wretched pill!

Forget your curries and fish’n’chips,
Nothing that tasty must pass your lips…
No Birthday Cake or party food
To put you in a jolly mood….
But, we won’t be starving or falling ill…
We’ve found the answer, that bloody pill!



I NEED A HUG

So, he’s been stuck in traffic - come home seething!
Well, my day’s been worse with the baby teething!
I just need a hug to put things right….
But, he’s disappeared - nowhere in sight!

I wish I could tell him just what I need,
Without him presuming where it will lead.
I just want a cuddle - as simple as that,
And it’s him that I need - I’ve tried the cat!

I know he’ll just say “What a big baby!”
Or, shrug his shoulders with a “Later, maybe!”
He’ll give me a smile and a knowing wink.
I just need a cuddle - what else does he think?

Do you desperately yearn with all your might
For someone to hold you and squeeze you tight?
It doesn’t cost money or take very long,
So, why is resistance so incredibly strong?

When will our menfolk understand,
If we ask for a cuddle - there’s nothing else planned!
We just need to be held, safe and secure,
Then all of those problems we know we’d endure.

Do they think it’s unmanly, and feel a fool….
Are afraid to break some unwritten rule?
I really can’t help it - I’ve got the bug!
Won’t somebody out there just give me a hug?



THE DATE

How could she be so unaware?
She doesn’t even pretend to care.
He’s asked me out, I’ve gone to Heaven!
I’ve fancied him since I turned eleven!

But I haven’t a thing that is fit to be seen.
She won’t lend me money , she’s incredibly mean.
I won’t even ask she’d create such a stir.
You’d think I was wanting to borrow her fur!

“You’ve lots of nice things in the cupboard” She’d say.
But I feel like chucking them all away!
She’s no idea of the problems I face.
Was she ever a part of this Human Race?

She thinks I’m a child, but I’m not any more.
Just wait till she sees who it is at the door!
“That can’t be your boyfriend, he’s such an old man.
He’s not taking you out whatever his plan.”

“What’s that you’re wearing and just look at your face!”
The neighbours are staring, what a disgrace!
You’d think she was Mother instead of me.
But I’m making a stand ‘cause I’m FIFTY- THREE!



TIME TRAVELLER

I think that its time that I started my book.
My head will be buried each time that you look,
For, once I get started I can’t put it down!
I’m telling you now, but you’ve no need to frown,
For, when I have finished I’ll lend it to you
So, you can become a Time Traveller, too.

My head will be filled with a myriad of light
That speeds me through day and most of the night.
I travel in time no boundaries found,
Feet moving so fast they aren’t touching the ground.
Each character sketched - so clear in my mind,
Detail upon detail I seek and I find.

My canvas is large every possible hue
Passing right through the spectrum, the violets and blue.
New people I meet and new places I see...
A moving image of history.
I share in their joys and their passion and pain...
But a hidden observer I always remain.

As yet unpublished.. but Copyright rests with me.
I read a comment in our local newspaper .. It said that children of today do not understand poetry because it is written in an old dead language that they do not understand. I accepted that as a challenge and came-up with my next poem. There is a Hidden Agenda, but I won't spoil things and tell you till the end...


HIDDEN AGENDA?

In capitals both near and far men search but find no equal.
In form and wondrous beauty none do excel,
Thou doest shine more bright in heavenly space
Than that golden disk they call the sun.
And I am but a weak and timid mouse in thy fair company.
Thou art indeed the centre of my universe,
The font of all knowledge.
Thou hast cast thy net and I am held fast,
With none to help or save me.
Yet I am most willingly held captive.
Restrained here beneath thy silken web.
Wouldst ne’er forsake thee, nor feign to win thy trust.
For thou doest hold the key to my escape.
In truth do justify my whole being and resolve.
And I shall be thy true and loyal servant,
Henceforth to wait on thy command.

Would that I couldst undo all past transgressions.
Truly align myself in thy most gracious favour.
Neither seek to hide from mine enemies
Nor show restraint upon the battlefield.
Do all that is right and good in thine employ,
That I may win that most rare and honoured title ‘Noble Knight and True’,
Pledge henceforth to be thy brave and peerless champion.
To let not man nor beast de-file thee,
Nor bring dishonour to thy sweet and blessed name,
For I have it printed clear across my heart.
Shall carve it proud upon my sacred shield.
Insert it deep within my very soul,
That in fond memory it shall be forever strong.

At the lower casement window do I oft times stand,
Perchance to view thee framed as in a picture there.
And I may pause a while to gaze upon thy sweet and perfect countenance.
Or, if thou shouldst choose to sit and rest a while,
‘Midst those tall and leafy columns close to home
I may make so bold as to call out to thee, to say thy name,
And trust thou shalt not close thine eyes in sweet repose,
Nor turn and walk away,
That I may openly and honestly re-affirm my love for thee,
Most gladly give my oath, my word and solemn promise
To honour thee and serve thee to the end of my days,
For thou art my most precious jewel, my rare and choicest treasure
Oh, beloved child.
Oh, dearest daughter mine.

Marilyn Lambert

HIDDEN AGENDA - Did you spot the hidden 'computer' words listed below?

web
mouse
net
file
close
memory
form
insert
printed
bold
key
escape
columns
disk
word
search
find
show
hide
in capitals
command
name
view
picture
framed
centre
justify
align
right
title
window
pause
end
home
equal
excel
space
field
clip art
lower casement
font
help
save
undo
clear



NEW SHOES FOR SCHOOL

Grandma is buying me new shoes for school,
But, she’ll want to choose – it’s an unwritten rule.
Sensible, sturdy and made of strong leather,
With laces a must to keep out the weather.
Soles thick and heavy – the kind that last,
Just like she wore in ages past.

In grandma’s day they ran round to keep warm,
But for me and my friends that isn’t the norm.
They walked for miles in all kinds of weather,
So shoes had to be strong and made of leather.
In grandma’s day it sort of made sense,
But now things are different – the gap is immense.

I don’t run and skip when its time for break.
Times have changed for heaven’s sake!
Those childish games are for when you’re a baby,
Or practicing for sports day in summer, maybe.
Let the infants run races and make the noise,
We’ll sit on our bench discussing boys.

I’ll just have to refuse – I’m nobody’s fool.
Imagine the comments if I wore them to school!
Mum says grandma knows best – it’s almost a passion,
But I don’t care, I’m following the fashion!
I’m ten years old and know my own mind.
Why must they both be so unkind?

"Grandma’s sent money for your new school shoes.
She says now you are older she’ll let you choose…
You’ll want something smart to impress your friends,
And she’s not up to date with modern trends.
I have to agree, I must confess.
We can go tomorrow if you want to, I guess."





REMEMBERING OUR SON MARK

Why a life so barely started
Should have to end this way
Is the question we’re all asking
As we gather here today.
But, there is no simple answer,
No words to ease the pain
Of friends and family grieving
As they whisper, soft your name.

We had no way of knowing.
Were left so unprepared…
No time to say we loved you,
No time to say we cared…
So cruelly taken from us
On that dark and somber day
And just why it had to happen
Not one of us can say…

It’s beyond our understanding
Though we’ve tried to work it out…
A part of some eternal plan
There can be little doubt…
But you’ll never be forgotten
Though the years may fade away.
Fond memories of those happier times
Are in our hearts to stay.

We’ll be reaching out to touch you
In the hope it brings you near
Each time you hear us sigh
Each time we shed a tear,
For those ties of love that bind us
Will never fade away.
They’re carried on each gentle breeze
And grow stronger every day.

Marilyn Lambert

I wrote this next poem for My Dear Brother David and his wife Christine in Memory of their only son Mark who died following a tragic accident at his home. I was able to read it for them at his funeral service

Mark Smith aged 36
20th May 1966 to 13th May 2003



A FOND FAREWELL

Scan the skies of blue above
And see one single pure white dove.
On outstretched wings it circles high,
Carried on each gentle sigh.
As tears roll slowly down our cheek
We try to, but can hardly speak…
Softly now we call your name
And free you from this earthly plain.
Let soul and spirit be released
To find eternal rest and peace.

Marilyn Lambert

Dedicated to the memory of
Joan Dorothy Ardley
26th October 1915 to 9th May 2001

I wrote this poem in remembrance of my partner Mick's wonderful Mother Joan. Such a dear lady and sadly missed. I read the poem at her funeral service and released a real white Dove.



SEARCHING

‘Once upon a time’ meant a new beginning
In story book legend of knight and fair maid,
And I’ve clung to that dream of brave knight on white charger,
Forgetting there’s always a price to be paid!

Yes, I’ve waited in vain for my ‘happy ending’
Believing in fate and that ‘paths had been laid.’
But, now I can see it was only a story…
My dream of contentment has started to fade.

I’ve searched my whole life for the end of that rainbow,
But, it’s over that hill – always just out of reach.
True happiness comes from something within us
Give love and be loved is what we should teach.

Marilyn Lambert



JOBLESS?

I’m starting-out on my new career.
Well, applied for the job, just wait to hear.
As I’ve lots to offer, I’ll be just fine –
Just a matter of time before it’s mine.

I thought the interview went really well.
And they were receptive, I could honestly tell.
(I took time over make-up, even wore a dress.
Made such an effort so that I’d impress!)
I answered their questions, was really keen…
The best applicant I think they’d seen!

I’d had experience – could cope under pressure,
Never took days off – all work was a pleasure.
Yes, I’m computer literate, been using Word.
(I said it twice so they must have heard.)
Would never go sick – had a crystal ball
Working lots of overtime – no problem at all!

I welcomed Manual Handling, Health and Safety – it’s the law.
(Though I’ve done all of those boring courses before.)
I agreed to the salary, would have settled for less.
Even said I adored their corporate dress!
So, they promised to call me, and I knew I’d be fine.
Just a matter of time and that job was mine!

So, I watched the post, sat by the phone,
Had the strangest feeling I was not alone!
They’d said ‘in a week I was sure to hear…’
But, that was last month or was it last year?
Why did they promise, it was so unkind?
I’d nothing else to fill my mind!

I can handle ‘no’, if it has to be,
But need an answer – why couldn’t they see?
Do they think it gives them a kind of power
To keep me waiting hour by hour?
To hell with their job – I wasn’t that keen.
(Though they might have phoned – it was really mean!)



2001 THE NEW MILLENNIUM

We all suspected, but kept it hidden,
In case our revelries were forbidden.
Friends and family we deceived,
Pretended that we too believed.
But, someone should have made it clear,
The new millennium’s not till next year.
Two thousand years have to pass
Before we raise that champagne glass.

All those people who filled The Dome
Should not have bothered – stayed at home.
The London Eye didn’t miss the date,
It was finished early, not too late.
Yes, someone should have made it clear,
The new millennium’s not till next year.
Two thousand years have to pass
Before we raise that champagne glass.

I think it was a cunning ruse
Would give us all a fresh excuse
To spend a second splendid night
So, put our history books to right.
Though, someone should have made it clear,
The new millennium’s not till next year.
Two thousand years have to pass
Before we raise that champagne glass.

Marilyn Lambert

I was convinced we got it wrong!!