Rueful

I didn't discover penicillin;
I wasn't the first man on the moon;
I never played for my country once
and now my life has gone all too soon.

So what did I do with the years I had?
Well, I worked my jobs as well as I could;
I loved my wife and brought up my kids;
and I tried to do other people good.

My friends and family still value me;
my health is fine though stairs make me puff.
I know I should be grateful for my life
and so I am - but it's not enough.

Past it?

The fire of desire burns low

dying down to memory's glow;

too old for sex as marital duty

but never too old for beauty?

Rap

The problems with rap, which make it crap,
are monotonous rhythm and too much rhyme.
Although the ideas sometimes make sense,
both producers and product are just too dense.

Countdown

I assume that Rachel is well prepared

against the almost inevitable day / dee (Scots !)

when the chosen vowels and consonants

spell out the embarrassing  C  U  N  T.

At least these days it won't be as bad

as the fashionable unmentionable

N  i    g sh!   g hush!   e     r  !!

States of matter

A child's airy world
of infinite possibilities
slowly condenses to the flow
of adult probabilities
until solidifying to one
unwanted certainty.

Gin sling

There was an old lady from Lingfield

at a party who slipped and her gin spilled

all over her dress

much to her distress

and she wailed "What I need is a sling shield".

The girl at bar Savannah (with apologies to Antonio Carlos Jobim)

Tall and blonde and young and lovely

that girl at bar Savannah is dancing

and when she dances, the sight entrances the bar.

When she's there, she's such a mover

"she swings so cool and sways so easy"

that when she dances, she really lights up the bar.

"Oh . . . but I watch her so sadly."

How dare I tell her she's lovely ?

Oh . . . she will never care for me.

I'm such an old guy; she needs a young guy -

boyfriend then partner, husband then father.

Tall and blonde and young and lovely

the girl at bar Savannah is dancing

and when she dances, the sight entrances . . . me !