Two Nights After Christmas

'Twas two nights after Christmas,
And all through the house,
The mob we a-stalking,
A poor little mouse.

The tree'd been turned over,
Ornaments on the floor,
And the cupboard of the sideboard,
Was missing a door.

Mob-mother Alice,
Was leading the brood,
But for actual hunting,
She was not in the mood.

Emmiloo the enforcer,
Was cracking the whip.
Her technique was basic,
But she didn't slip.

Rosie the Rustler,
Was sniffing the air,
And aroma of field mouse,
Was definitely there.

Ellie and Charlie,
Were searching the room.
Their idea wasn't sound,
Using Chips as a broom.

Wiki and Kittie,
Were hiding the mouse,
For they didn't mind if,
It lived in their house.

The mob they did run,
Madly around.
They flew up in the air.
They looked down on the ground.

The trace of a mouse,
They failed to find,
For Wiki and Kittie,
Had been terribly kind.

They'd helped the poor mouse out,
Through a hole in a door.
Strangely no-one had noticed,
It there before.

So the mouse hunt was fruitless,
And the mob were stood down.
Mob-mother Alice,
On her face had a frown.

'Twas two nights after Christmas,
And all through the house,
The mob had stopped stalking,
That poor little mouse.

And when the owners,
Woke up the next day.
They ended up clearing,
The hunts mess away...




JRAG
28 December 2013

Open book

I am an open book
With pages to be read
And stories yet to be written
But you can turn the pages
And write some more


JRAG
14 December 2013

My Mind

Sometimes I get lost for words.
My mind gets stuck.
I'm not ignoring you.
I'm just trying to unstick my mind.

Once I was told,
"You hesitate when you talk,
Because you're head,
Is full of stuff,
And you're clever.
Me? Well my heads empty,
So I can just talk and talk!"
With words like that,
No way was he stupid,
But my mind sticks,
Not because I'm clever,
Not because my head is full,
But because it always has.

So, if I don't reply at once,
It either means I'm thinking,
Or that my mind is stuck.
So don't get angry.
I will reply eventually...




J.R.A.G
27 November 2013

You can tempt me...

You can tempt me in the morning.
You can tempt me with a song.
You can tempt me when we're eating.
You can tempt me all night long.

You can tempt me as you touch me.
You can tempt me as we kiss.
But when you're away from me,
It's the temptation that I miss...



J.R.A.G
22 November 2013 (21:09)

Give Me a Reason...

Give me a reason to live.
Give me a reason to love.
Give me a reason to hold you tight.
Make your body fit mine like a hand in a glove.

Give me a reason show that I care.
Give me a reason to be.
Give me a reason to kiss your sweet lips,
And rest your sweet face next to me.

Give me a reason to be next to you.
Give me a reason to stay.
Give me a reason to be in your life,
And I promise I'll not stray.


Jon R A Gigney
(9 November 2013)

Love is... (The Sequel)

Love is...
That indescribable something,
That flutters deep inside.
That sprinkling of stardust,
That spreads so far and wide.

You never know when it'll happen.
For it you should not search.
But one day it will find you,
And put you on its lofty perch.

So love is...
That encompassing emotion,
That undiminished force.
And then when you have it,
You'll be a happy Boy (or Girl) of course.






J R A Gigney
3 November 2013

Then You Make Me Smile

Sometimes I feel like giving up.
Sometimes I just want to die.
And then you make me smile.
And then you make me smile.

Whenever I feel like ending it all.
Whenever I want to disappear.
Your words make me want to live.
Your words make me want to live.

Don't ever change.
Don't ever stop being you.
You know how to make me smile.
You know how to make me believe,
That there is something to live for,
That there's something worthwhile.

Sometimes I want to self destruct.
Sometimes I just want to sleep forever.
Then you make me whole again.
Then you make me whole again.

Life's a hard slog alone.
But you don't always have to be there,
To make me find a way,
To hold on to life,
To hold on to life.

Sometimes my mind is in pain.
Sometimes I just can't cope.
Then you make me smile.
Then you make me smile.



J R A GIGNEY
15 October 2013

Untitled #?

J R A Gigney 11 October 2013

For National Poetry Day - Winging it!

Brain on overtime,
What do I write?
Body on under time,
Vocabulary out of sight!

Do I write a limerick,
Or a little prose?
No it's got to be a poem.
See what style I chose.

This'll be a little messy.
This'll be a little short.
Still it's got to be much better,
Than that poetry book I bought!



For National Poetry Day 2013

J R A Gigney 3 October 2013

Apology

I'm sorry.
I had a good poem,
But didn't write it down.
Just like me!
Stupid me!
Notebook an pen right beside my bed.
Forgot to write it down.
Feel a fool,
One big tool!
So you'll just have to make do with this then...


J R A Gigney
17 September 2013

Poetry Questions

Do we really understand poetry?
Do we really understand verse?
Does our education stifle us?
Does it make our understanding worse?

Is that alliteration working?
Does that couplet rhyme quite right?
Does that stanza make you tingly?
Does the tone give you pure insight?

Do we really understand poetry?
Is it still much too obscure?
Does our education damage it?
And make it less than pure?




J R A Gigney
(31 August 2013)


Inspired by an interview on BBC Radio 4's Saturday Live with Michael Rosen...

Lonely

No-one asking to me.
No-one listening to me.
No-one to hold.
No-one to love.
Just lonely,
Just alone...

Frustrated by life.
Frustrated with my lot.
Frustrated by everything.
Angry at everything.
Just lonely,
Just alone...



J R A Gigney
(29 August 2013)

More Grumpy Cat

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Mini

Grumpy Cat Attack

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Mini

Dead

Joseph Alejandro Zachary Querry was dead. Unequivocally, undeniably, irrefutably dead. Of course it was Tuesday and, from his sixteenth birthday until now, he had spent every Tuesday dead. It was just something he liked to do.

At first people had thought it just a little strange but, over time, they had grown used to it. He could even spend a Tuesday at work dead and no-one, not even his usually picky boss, was bothered anymore.

This particular Tuesday was, however, different. Yes, Joseph was undeniably dead as usual but the look in his eyes was one of fear rather than the bland contentment that was usually there.
Joseph had watched his usual Monday fare of science fiction and horror movies and, at midnight, had promptly died. As usual the television was left on and, as usual, Mr Lockhart, Joseph's grumpy neighbour, was periodically banging on the wall and complaining about the noise. This prompted the usual entry to Joseph's apartment of Mr Percival, the building superintendent, to make sure that everything was turned off. This particular Tuesday, though, the look on Joseph's face disturbed the usually sanguine Mr Percival. He'd entered the apartment using his master key and, as usual, uttered the words, "dead again, huh, Joe!" Then he had turned off the TV and DVD player before looking at Joseph. The blank look of fear on Joseph's face scared Mr Percival so much that he wondered whether he should call the police. He decided against that course of action because the police knew Joseph well and were liable to believe that this was the usual Tuesday death they'd come to expect from Joseph over the years. So Mr Percival just left Joseph as he was and exited the apartment. He soon put the niggle of doubt out of his mind and went about his usual daily business.
Joseph just sat there in his slightly reclined reclining chair. His arms and legs were limp even though dead people go through a period of rigour mortis. Yet this never seemed to happen to Joseph. His body was prepared for what his friends always called Resurrection Wednesday.
Sometime after lunch, which he usually took at around half past twelve, Mr Percival decided to check on Joseph again. He was still a little worried about the look on the face of his tenant. This was despite the regularity of Joseph's death event. Once back inside the apartment Mr Percival went straight to look at Joseph.

"Boy, " Mr P said aloud, "ya don't look well! In fact you look like you've seen a ghost. Yup, that's it. You've seen a ghost and died outright this time..."

Mr Percival allowed his voice to trail off as he thought he heard something. He shook his head and then there it was again. A slight tapping. It seemed to be coming from the window.

Mr Percival moved quietly to the window and peered around the half drawn curtain. There was nothing there but he heard the tapping again. He jumped backwards and accidentally knocked into the chair that contained Joseph.

The chair flicked into its upright position and sent Joseph's body thudding to the floor.

"Sorry Joe," Mr P said in a timid shaky voice, "didn't mean to disturb..."

The tapping became louder.

"Mr Lockhart? Is that you?"

"Nah," came the semi-faint reply, "it's me! Out here! On the fire escape!"

The voice that Mr Percival had heard was not only surprising, but unmistakably Irish. Mr Percival moved to the window and looked out. He didn't immediately see anyone, but instinctively looked down and was surprised to see a very small man looking back up at him. Mr Percival smiled a slightly worried smile.

"Would you let me in man! It's raining out here and I've got work to do and other appointments!"

Mr Percival unlocked and then opened the window. The little man clambered into the apartment. He stood silent for a while and stared at Mr P.

"So what are you doing here?" The little man asked.

Mr Percival was temporarily speechless. All he could do was stare at the little man who was particularly ordinary looking. When Mr P did find his voice all he could say was, "shouldn't leprechauns be all in green?"

"And just who said I was a leprechaun?" The little man said angrily, "where does it say that an Irishman of lower than average stature has to be a leprechaun?"

Mr P looked somewhat embarrassed, and mouthed an apology.

"Just because you're slightly taller than average doesn't mean you're a giant, does it?" The little man snapped.

Mr Percival shook his head. The two looked at each other for a while.

"So why are you here?" Mr Percival's question broke the silence and the little man moved over to Joe's chair by way if an unspoken answer.

"Oh now this doesn't look good!" The little man muttered.

"What doesn't look good?"

"Found your voice, huh?"

"What doesn't look good?" Mr Percival pressed his question home, "and who the hell are you?"

The little man turned his head to look at Mr Percival. It was only now that Mr P noticed the striking grey colour of the little man's eyes.

"Well I'm Garret O'Philately, and I'm here to make Joseph Alejandro Zachary Querry undead."

Mr Percival blinked. "And so what doesn't look good then?"

"Well it looks like he's dead!"

"But that's normal for him."

"No! I mean he's really dead rather than temporarily dead..."

"So what you're telling me is that he won't be alive later?"

"Exactolutely!"

"Oh!" Mr Percival looked at Joe. "How did he get temporarily dead in the first place?"

"Well, he wanted a day off every week."

"So do I!" Mr Percival indignantly, "but I don't want to be dead on that day. I want to do things!"

"Good for you!" The little man chuckled, "but you don't work for The Dead List Bureau!"

"What's that?"

"The bureau that keeps records of all those who have died or are about to die."

"I don't understand."

"Don't worry about it. Thing is employees of the bureau have to spend any days off they want dead."

"And what have you got to do with that, Mr O'Philately?"

"I'm a deader." The little man could see that Mr Percival was puzzled, "I control the death and undeath of bureau employees. Joe Querry's one of my clients."

"Ah!" Mr Percival was still a little perplexed.

The little man stared at him. "You don't have to worry about it. All you've got to know is that there's a vacancy in your building, now, and that you have to re-let the apartment."

With that statement the little man, Garret O'Philately, turned towards Mr Percival. His eyes seemed to glow.

Mr Percival's world went dark...

An alarm clock was bleeping loudly. Mr Percival woke with a start, and then noticed that his doorbell was ringing. He got himself up and noticed that he was already dressed. The doorbell rang again. Mr Percival pulled himself out of his strange stupor and went to answer the door. There was a young man standing outside. A vaguely familiar young man.

"Oh, er, hi, " the young man said, "I understand you have a vacant apartment here?"

Mr Percival blinked, "um, yes we do."

"Oh good! Viewing isn't by appointment only, is it? I'm not inconveniencing you, am I?"

"Oh no! That's okay. Only thing that might help me is if you tell me your name..."

"Querry. Joseph Alejandro Zachary Querry..."

Mr Percival stared at the young man.

"Have we met or something?" Joseph asked.



J R A Gigney (March 2013 - 10 August 2013)



- created on an iPad Mini -

Questions From a Depressed Man

Hello?

Do you know what it's like to feel alone?
What it's like to feel abandoned by a friend,
Who you thought you could trust?
And over something you couldn't control...

Do you know how it feels to be asked to censor yourself,
When the only outlet to vent your frustration is this?

Do you know how it feels to be dying inside,
Because people you care for,
Don't seem to want to know you anymore?
Despite the support you gave them!

Do you know how it feels to have no reason to live?
And do you know how it feels to know that you've told the truth,
But haven't been listened to?
Do you know how much the truth can hurt?

If you could change things would you?
I know I'd try...


J R A Gigney
(8 August 2013)


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Mini

Me

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad Mini

Diary entry...

6am:
Woke up. Well actually most of me did minus the important bits... Stretched a bit... Then walked zombie-like into the bathroom, did what was necessary and then walked zombie-like back into my bedroom...
Note to self: it might be better to get dressed before walking into that cold bathroom in the morning....
Who left the curtains open.
Now embarrassed!
Back later!

Puzzlement

What's my name?
What's my game?
Am I to blame?
Am I the same?
What the hell's my name?



J R A GIGNEY
17 May 2013

Answer Phone #1

Answer Phone messages everyone should try #1

"Hello. We're unavailable right now so leave a message if you'd like us to call you back. However, if you're trying to sell us something or are a claims company, please be advised that if you call again and we pick up your company will be charged £50 for every 30 seconds you waste our time. If you represent a PPI claims company this will be doubled per 30 seconds you waste our time and to all companies after every five minutes you waste our time this will double. Once the call is over we will bill your company. If you haven't got the message by now and you call anyway the amount will be tripled... Have a good day!"


J R A Gigney
26 March 2013

PS: Do you get the feeling I don't like Cold Callers? Muhahahahaha!!!

Beauty Defined?

How do you define beauty?
Is it a drop of water slipping down a window pane?
Is it the delicate veins of a leaf?
The shower of petals as the wind blows them from a tree?
The transparent wings of a mayfly?
How can it be defined?
Is a flawless pearl more beautiful,
Than the iridescent colour of a Dragonfly?
Or the eyespots on a butterfly's wings?
Who is the arbiter of beauty?
Can the ugliest be beautiful on the inside?
Is the truth more beautiful than a lie that makes someone feel better?
How do you define beauty?
Why do you want to?

Wha...?

The Leaning of Miff part XXXXIV 14 is a very interesting volume in the fact that it is listed in The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy (Panic Not) not under its alphabetical reference but under "totally irrelevant works of literature or loterature that never made the top one million best sellers list due to it describing the number of leans it takes to change a light bulb (meaning a bulb that is light in weight rather than a bulb that emits light either incandescently or flourescently)" which is itself listed under "Universes longest categories and other strange cinematic special effects that may or may not cause the viewing public to go 'ewww' at any given point whilst watching a movie containing the specified effect." This category itself is listed under its own category simply called "categories"... It's all rather confusing really...

Of course the original volume was included on an old Speak & Spell device and was thus rendered useless to the point of oblivion due to the lack of chips on the menu.

The latest volume has been transferred to the maximum security prison of Rura Penthe which is inside the boundaries of the Klingon Empire. It can still be accessed for a small fee of two Altairian Dollars (each coin being pentagonal in shape, and each side of the pentagon being four nautical miles in length and longth. Thus each coin is able to fit in specially tailored Tardis pants.)

This is, of course, all complete nonsense and must not be repeated to anyone who is deemed sane enough to understand a word of it...







This nonsense was brought to you by J R A Gigney on 7 March 2013

Queenie's Money

Oh dear, Phillip,
One is skint!
Call the Mint!
One needs some bloody money,
But one's skint.

One can't sell off the Palace,
The Corgis just can't go.
The Crown is in the Tower,
So ones money supply is low.

Ones bankers have got problems.
The taxman's on ones case.
There's got to be some bloody dough,
Stashed around this place.

Get off your bloody arias.
Look down the sofa's back
Find me all the moolah,
That one currently lacks!

Charles could sell off Cornwall,
And give one what he owes,
But he's too bloody busy,
Painting Camillas toes.

So,
Oh dear, Phillip,
One is skint!
Call the Mint!
One needs some bloody money,
But one's skint.



J R A Gigney
28 February 2013

Poem Number Forgotten

Past keeps haunting,
But past should be past.
Stay in the moment,
Or you're mind will fade fast.

J R A Gigney
11 February 2013

Poem number whatever

Don't know whether to laugh or cry.
Not even sure how to.
Taking stock of life again.
Feel like I'm never winning.
It's hard to sometimes look ahead,
Sometimes hard to step forward.
Trying to make me understand,
And other people too.
A part of me is losing again,
But another part just fights.
Sometimes in the wrong direction,
Partially in the right.
My mind just rambles.
I think too much,
Even when there's lots to do.
I can't stop my mind from racing,
Can't seem to fight the fears.
I'm not being a drama queen,
Like some people think.
Just honest...
Feels like I broke meself again...


J R A Gigney
11 February 2013

Fashionably Eccentric

Scream and shout all you like,
I won't move unless you're civil.
Push me and maybe I won't snap...
Then again maybe I will.
Call me mad if you like,
I know I'm not.
The monsters on my shoulders,
Just argue all the damn time.
The void in my head contains,
A very large singularity,
That sucks things in,
But won't let them out.
Push me around,
I may not push back,
But the look you'll get will chill you.
Call me nuts,
But I'm not nuts,
I'm fashionably eccentric!






J R A Gigney
7 February 2013

A piccy by me!

Musing again...

Oh for the touch of a lovers hand,
The warmth of the sun on your face.
That feeling of happiness,
Serenity and grace.

Oh for a rainbow after the storm,
The smell of newly mown grass.
The lightness of being,
Alone in the dark,
In a place that's no longer a farce.

Oh for the wit to be able to laugh,
At oneself and laugh with the others.
Oh for the grace to not frown at their jokes,
And not angrily slander their mothers.


J R A Gigney
5 February 2013

For Everyone

Memories will never fade,
As through life we slowly wade.
Never knowing where to turn,
Only knowing how to learn.
And when we all look above,
We will gain the power of love.


J R A Gigney
1 February 2013

Centre of a Web

There she sits,
At the centre of a web.
Hanging loose,
Till her suitor turns bright red.
Twitchy legs,
How long since she was fed.
Needs a tasty morsel,
At the centre of the web...



J R A Gigney
26 January 2013

A Small Tale

Hidden in the corner,
Behind the comfy chair,
Lives a little elephant,
And no one knows he's there.
They never hear his trumpeting,
They never see him feed.
They don't see his PC,
That uses their broadband lead.
He's happy to be hiding,
In his little world.
And if they saw him,
His life would be unfurled.
He lives his life to quietly,
He really is no trouble,
And when he exercises,
His feet move at the double.
He watches all their parties.
He watches their TV.
He listens to their music,
And watches films on DVD.
He's a happy little pachyderm,
So we must let him be.
One day maybe he'll meet us,
Just you wait and see.

:)



J R A Gigney
24 January 2013

Hehehe

Darkness falls!
Aaarrrggghhh!
Who put him on that shelf in the first place?
At least there was a nice soft carpet underneath!

**********

A vest is a best,
Whether cotton or viscose.
It covers up those blemishes,
But it's not for wiping your nose!


**********

Jump up high,
Go down low,
Don't wet your trousers,
In the snow!


J R A Gigney
24 January 2013

Writing

Sitting on a bed,
Tea mug on the side table.
TV plays in the background.
Writing,
Thinking,
Lines of no importance.
Lines that say not much.
Time to do the washing up.
Not much to do...



J R A Gigney
24 January 2013

Brain

Brain feels like imploding,
Body slow,
Nerves firing wrong again.
Brain wants to go Supernova.
Body wants to go back to bed.
Nerves firing all over the place.
What's the pain in the head?
Prepare for exploding brain.
Look inside,
Look outside.
Screaming inside
Silent on the outside.
Brain wants to go bye bye...



24 January 2013
J R A Gigney

My Friends

My friends are,
Witty,
Clever,
Happy,
And special.
Hope yours are too...


J R A Gigney
24 January 2013

Sack

Tired?
Worn?
In pain?
Lost?
Fed up?
Annoyed?
Need a boost?
Sack the government and make yourself smile!

24 January 2013

Don't

Don't expect me,
To be what I'm not.
Don't expect me,
To conform to your ideals.
Don't expect me,
To always be right.
I'm human,
I'm flawed,
I'm me.


J R A Gigney
24 January 2013

Ouch

Snow is melting.
Snowman's gone.
Ground's a freezing,
Slippery..,
Aargh!
Ouch me bum!


23 January 2013, J R A Gigney

How Old Are You?

How old are you?
Why hide you're age?
Are you embarrassed to tell?
One thing I know,
You're not much younger than me,
So come on let me know.
Is it you're hiding your age from your man?
Or is it that you're near a big age?
Is it that your life is a lie?
You better not hurt my friend...
I wanted to like you,
I really did,
But I like people who tell the truth.
If you want to hide,
Then hide somewhere else,
Just make sure you're far from here.
If you hide your age,
What else are you hiding?
What else is to come?
What'll be the fall out,
From the lies that you're telling?
Who else are you gonna hurt?


J R A Gigney (22 January 2013)


Inspired by nothing in particular...

Comment #1

The Government's a shambles,
It's ministers are crap,
So here's what I propose.
I hope it makes you clap...

Prime Minister C,
Please explain to me,
Just how you've kept your job.
You obfuscate quite expertly,
Whilst the people you just rob....

Chancellor O,
Has got to go.
His sums just don't add up,
And his big red box,
Just contains his socks,
And a portable porcelain po!

Deputy Nick,
Makes voters quite sick,
For keeping posh Dave in power.
Culture Secretary Hunt,
Is really quite a rude word for female genitalia....

J R A Gigney's long lost brother... ;-)
10 January 2013

The Bumbling Bear

So cuddly is the Bumbling Bear,
So soft his lovely paws.
He goes around with such great care,
On the ground he leaves no sores.
His coat is striped yellow and back,
He looks quite like a bee.
He looks so kind and jolly,
I wish he was cuddling me.


J R A Gigney
10 January 2013

The Lovers Prayer

Lay with me softly,
All through the night.
Hold me so gently,
So there's no fright.
Stay with me sleeping,
Till dawn's new light.
Lay with me softly,
All through the night.


J R A Gigney
10 January 2013