What I'm Loving Wednesday (6)

What I'm Loving this mid- Valentine's week:
linking up with Jamie and the girls here

I'm Loving.................................


These Valentine nails:

                     (all glitzy, romantic or raunchy. What fun!)
 This cherub, chocolate candy dish! You eat the lot! :

For The Cheaper Half (a.k.a my hubby!) this remarkable edible bra consisting of meringue and chocolate! Sadly there were none in MY size!

 
 These internet leaked pictures of the 3 Ross's from Hotel India (this is the sort of thing they get up to when the producer turns his back. Not so hot now, eh, girls?):

           
  I'm loving this Valentine card:

British Comedy film  'I Give It A Year' (that I only watched to lust over 'America's'  Simon Baker - he's bound to be a citizen by now, surely?!)

And if you're a little undecided about it, perhaps this clip of Stephen Merchant making his best man speech will tempt you!:



 And finally I'm Loving:

My very own Valentine's baby. He was the best Valentine's pressie I could have asked for. And I didn't even need to unwrap him!  Happy 24th Birthday for tomorrow, Ross!  Loving ya....!

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Never In Mind

Never was one willing,
 shading colours from the day
Hues in all their glory
 as the sea bobbed them away

Never was one calmer, 
  listening to bows and hush
Where luminous bounced off the streets
  in mad and virtual rush

Never was one sinking
 as they looked up to the skies
Captivating diamonds 
 hosted under midnight guise

Never was one more inclined
 to meet up after dark
Slipping out to greet the moon
 and count the ripple marks
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For My Bruv and my Sister-in-law

My brother, Rab and his wife, Elenor, celebrate 40 years of marriage tomorrow. So I'm dedicating this Proclaimers song below for this, their Ruby Wedding Anniversary. It typifies long love and partnership perfectly. 

Sweet Trouble With The Bubble.......

Out they come in tubes of colours, from the pockets of the mothers
 - seeking solice in the afternoon
Bubbles for fauteur de troubles, well fed up with muck and puddles -
willing now to quietly attune

All it takes you understand, is puffy cheeks and wand in hand,
dipped so deeply down into the lotion
A steady blow until the air, takes it into it's own care,
have you ever see such globular devotion...??

As they delicate the sky, focus on one with keen eye,
and watch the rainbow ripples circle round
Coloured oils swirl into rivers, that gives one delightful shivers,
as it settles on a leaf or on the ground.

Soak the plastic till it's thicker, blowing harder and much quicker,
 -  watch a hundred baby bubbles fight for space
Or run into them arms out wide, oozing soapy-suddy pride,
and feel the magic of the POP! against your face.

Now skillfulness is what is needed,  if previously you succeeded,
to blow the biggest bubble that departed
You must recapture it again, the rule is simple and it's plain -
 back on the very wand from where it rightly started!

No matter what a child desires,  essential things that life requires,
the humble bubble is the captor of our peace.
That every single generation, will always find a true elation,
from that gulp of air, their lips then first release.

Me & Me

Red hair with some blonde highlights,
a gift from God, you see.                                                                                      
Though he didn't throw away the mould,
he made another 'me'.

Identical in every way,
from height, to weight, to features.
A criss-cross of my own damn self,
fooled friends and foes and teachers.

We have a waddled walk, they say,
a cackling laugh to boot.
There's a strange breeze when we leave a room,
unitedly astute.

Our telepathic stories
can leave jaws a drooping down.
Although 500 miles away -
I know when she's in town!

Our soppy hearts are similar,
we cry at weepy stories.
And reminisce through albums,
telling tales of our joint glories.

We've felt each others' sadness,
but no sharing aches and pains.
Deliberating right from wrong?
I'm on my side again!

It has been rather useful though,
this chance to intermix.
One present sent from both of us,
two back - yeah, that's the trick!

But..............

Don't let this twin thing fool you,
though she has my DNA.
We're chalk and cheesy mostly,
not all roads display 'One Way'.

Her taste in men is awful,
and her music choice is chronic.
My cat's fluffy and fragile,
her dog's borderline demonic.

She'll choose the hottest spice to try,
no water standing by.
Whereas just a hint of onion,
makes me cry and cry and cry.

She'll bake in her back garden,
'til she turns to lobster red.
While just a ruddy chink of light,
makes me want to stay in bed.

A smoker since her school days,
yet, I've never had a puff
(though I've had a sneaky inhale
of that marijuana stuff!)

And her love for wine astounds me,
not a country she's not tried.
If a grape needed direction,
she would make the perfect guide!

Don't start me on the tattoos,
needless, forever-inky scars.
That her bygone masterpiece just
looks like bruises from afar....

Her craft is model icing,
literally on the cake.
For celebrations catering,
all walks of life she makes.

Me? I'm at my best when,
slapping paint upon a wall.
Mural of some kiddies' hero,
or giant logos of football!

I could go on here forever,
splitting replica's apart.
She'll always be my twin sis
the same beating of one heart.

We share love and we share laughter
Go through Hell if she did too.
Protected though, forever.
Could you love another 'you'?.

                                                                

  Penned for Poets Rally Week 47, and dedicated to my twin sister (right).....ps....my hair has been cut and styled to match hers now!

Café Au Too Late

**Since this poem is a little confusing, well the format anyhow, to some, I'll try to explain the concept of it.   It's actually about the same woman who has flashbacks to her youth, where she was bullied.  The regular font speaks of her meantime circumstances, whereas the italics speak of her childhood misery. And, of course, the scene is set in a burger-bar & cafe. Hope this helps...!**


Whipping downwards, I watched, the cream in the coffee, swirling and stirring around
I never looked over at the table next to me, not a singular whisper or sound

I did love you so much in all kinds of manners, of course I accepted your choice
A girl knocked her drink, felt the splashes on my cheek, she yelped with a lash to her voice

Complications in living, a struggle to manage, we were happy to face them as one
A squirt shot from the sachet, a barbeque sauce stain, and reason for them to poke fun

You told me we'd go on complete in our unity,  always - and then your heart froze
The boy let out laughter and threw a straw at me, I suppose that's the way that it goes

Can it be that I'm loveless, a patch not quite able, to mend as the tear rips along
Pushed my back as I walked to the toilets to wash up, I'd be welling up here before long

Empty rooms and our savings, divided belongings, bin bags that carry a tale
Head hanging down, hair that covered my red face, sighing hard to no avail

Making waves and emotions, back to the mentions of singular guidances now
Far too scared to tell tales to the teachers or mothers, just continue to mop my own brow

Leaning over my coffee pot, I saw her crying, the jibers now running away
Sidled along, let the girl sit next to me, for we knew where our own heartaches lay
      ************************************************************************
So, what's here then....?

Doctor, Jester and Slapped Backsides!

My son's dressing up for Halloween parties were pretty typical. I knew what to expect from my younger son, Adam. He is the funniest little scamp and always has been. So I was delighted when he chose his jesters outfit for his party!

With my oldest son and his pretty-boy looks, he had to draw the females so no horror masks for him! He opted for a gynaecologist outfit. It didn't surprise me in the slightest. When he picked up the headtorch and hadn't a clue where it was to go, I despaired. Ladies you'd be 'a fanny to let HIM near your fud!' Here's a couple of post party pics with girlfriend and mates. You'll know who is who...!

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Pratt Of A Cat - example 7:
Always go for a shit directly BEFORE big sisses with kisses visit from London to annoy the living daylights out of you.............Pratt!
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