Decades

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Born in the fifties, baby boom years
A child of the sixties, scuffed knees and tears

A teen in the seventies, met Sal, fell in love
and at the end of the decade, wed the above

Brought a house in the eighties, two offspring we saw
and then in the nineties, along came two more

Watched the i2k clock at the Millennium turn
and nothing stopped working, we were quite pleased to learn

A new century turned and into the noughties
as we left a decade behind and entered our forties

Twenty-ten came and went, the best years of our lives
then we found we were fifty, well what a surprise

And now as the teenies are nearing an end
we are looking at pensions on which to depend

But the twenties will follow when we’ll be retired
so perhaps we’ll go backwards and become more inspired

We have decades more to look forward to yet
with more pleasure to come the older we get

©Jemverse

Photo – Jem ‘After Warhol’ – Jempics

Routemaster No.5

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I saw a little London bus
on a table for a pound
At the car boot sale down on the Rec.
just waiting to be found
It’s been played with many times before
an original Matchbox toy
Something I was chuffed to find
for it’s sure to bring me joy

It’s just a little London bus
a Routemaster number five
A little scratched but pretty good
for sixty years alive
And it will now be treasured
and will see more years I’m sure
Providing pleasure yet again
as that is what it’s for

©Jemverse

Matchbox is a popular toy brand which was introduced by Lesney Products in 1953, and is now owned by Mattel, Inc. The brand was named as the original die-cast Matchbox toys, which were sold in boxes similar in style and size to those in which matches were sold. The Routemaster No.5  London bus is part of the original 1-75 series produced between 1953 and 1957. So my little bus is at least 59 years old!

The boy and the bindweed

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Walking out at lunchtime
I saw down at my feet
something from my boyhood
and a memory was piqued
Bindweed on the way to school
white flowers on the way
Picked and popped at passers’ by
on every summer’s day

They grew there in abundance
and though trajectory was short
we didn’t really mind as
they gave merriment and sport
And yes, I know that they will irritate
gardeners nowadays
But then, in all my innocence
they were fun in lots of ways

©Jemverse

Precious

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Not for me a diamond
or something made of gold
For I can find my treasure
in memories of old
Just walking through the harbour
where I wandered as a boy
has value beyond measure
and instils in me a joy

That history has substance
intangible maybe
But one which stores a value
which is firmly part of me
The pleasure of a memory
a recollection there
is as precious as a pot of gold
and one I’ll always share

Nostalgia is a precious thing
no one can take away
It can never be devalued
and will be there, come what may
But treasured though the past may be
it always takes a bow
to the forming of new memories
from the present, here and now

©Jemverse

Photo – the old fisherman’s beach, Albion Street, Southwick (West Sussex, UK). Now filled in with rubble and concrete to form a car park for the harbour master’s office.

Day 16 in the ‘Blogging from A-Z challenge

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Simply a sixpence

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I once had a sixpence
that was shiny and new
and was full of the joy
of the good it would do
But its devaluation
over time was intense
as now it is worth
just over two pence

Back then it could get me
a brand new toy car
or a big bag of sweets
from my favourite jar
But now there is nothing
that alone it can buy
An indictment to life
so sad I could cry

But putting time to one side
for the moment at least
there is plenty besides
on which we can feast
For that memory brings back
a smile for the years
Days of innocence shared
with laughter and tears

And though the sixpence
won’t purchase anything now
It’s intrinsic value
is greater somehow
For its memory holds treasure
making me a rich man
in more ways than money
ever did or still can

©Jemverse

Photo from waldercoins.co.uk

The whimsy of treasured memories

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Closeted in the cupboards of minds
and kept for a rainy day
memories of the halcyon times
Dreams are filed away

Days from childhood, days from youth
retained to often share
many things taken save for these
All kept and treasured there

A sacrosanct trove of happiness
as the years pass swiftly by
brought out and dusted down when we
with whimsy breathe a sigh

©Jemverse

Conkers

I’d turn back time
(If only I could)
For I’ve a bag full of conkers
which I found in the wood
Recalling the days
of muddied scuffed knees
Long days in the sunshine
and the climbing of trees

‘Borrowing’ a skewer
from the kitchen drawer
when stringed conkers in pocket
was what life was for
We threw sticks to the branches
to see what would fall
and the thrill of the find
was just part of it all

The ‘fallers’ were rare
but we searched just the same
Always out in the woods
when the autumn time came
But that art has been lost
for today on the ground
There were hundreds of conkers
just lying around

And the only boy there
was the one in my mind
As it re-lived the days
that time tries to find
I-phones replace conkers
Imagination consumed
And simple pleasures like this
could well now be doomed

Yet all is not lost
For the conkers remain
for collecting by me
every year just the same
As now they are used
to keep spiders away
And as happy reminders
of a halcyon day

©Jemverse

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