Mike Berriman

Pride we carry, one and all
Remember this frailty before our fall
Idolatry of self, a deadly sin
Destroys humility of that within
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Of all the birds that I hold dear
Our butcher bird calls when he is near
His woodnote pierces our early dawn
To this honeyed sound I am drawn.
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A baby boomer of advancing years
I tackle the net, my nemesis my fears
On line shopping, the love of many
So easy to shop, to spend that penny.
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Once time was a friend
It waited for me, silently
Hanging there in the air, still and serene
Idle summer days with no ending
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This is a battle for young and old ears
A loosely held secret of some 100 years
The battle of Beersheba won with bayonet and horse
And the skill of our riders, our most precious resource.
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I don't want any fancy Boutique beer
And I can't drink cocktails bionic
What I need to fill me with cheer
Is a long cool iced, gin and tonic.
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Back I trek after so many years
Will I laugh or will there be tears
My wife is with me this time around
When I land on foreign ground.
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Tinsel, lights and tree of green
This Christmas sucks or so it seems
I see the gifts, spread under tree
I've checked them all, there's none for me.
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What is your PIN number the operator said
I have the number it's in my head
Why do you ask, because I've been told
Only scammers ask and those so bold
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I have dozens of sox, for work and for play
Do you think I can match them, easy you say
I have odd sox in colors and so many black
Match two odd black feet, now that is the knack.
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Hassled shoppers in crowded places
Wanting children with demanding faces
Stores discounting demanding attention
Tired parents and their dollar retention.
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My neighbor has a new blower/vac
He blows his leaves, I rake them back
A new high tech tool, and yet
My rake works well in dry or wet
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We are Friends.
Together as wild teenagers
Fun and speed regular events
Mixed, like minded people
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The lid on the toilet now sits vertical to the pan
A habit sometimes female, but more often in a man
But why have a toilet lid that's open this way all day
They don't know any better, it's an old folks way.
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Discarded beds, chairs and beams
But clean up day is not what it seems
Throw out the old and replace with new
Recycle day more likely true.
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Is pain relative, or abstract we muse
Do we forget those scenes from our past
Can anguish be so easily forgotten
Diluted by new thoughts and events so vast.
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A bag of ears and a box of toes
Dry ear wax and hair from nose
Both of these with voice of yell
Stir them hard and make a spell.
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I'm cussing and griping the older I get
Won't live forever and that's a sure bet
Now that my youth has all passed me by
Am I in limbo, do I laugh, should I cry.
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I my minds eye I see you still
Those days have ebbed and turned to years
My dreams of you will always thrill
It is regret that drives my fears
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Quick wake up it's half past six
Do what you need and grab your sticks
Still want to go I ask the question
Don't you she counters it was your suggestion
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