Saturday, 15 November 2014

Help us

Have a thought for depressed folks
And this festive time of year
for they do not have fun at all
So do not force your cheer

Maybe they feel quite lonely
And do not find it good
and comments like baa humbug
don’t put them in the mood

Maybe they need a helping hand
And kindness to be showed
Maybe a little come and join
a welcoming bestowed

A simple wish for everyone
to join and to be loved
sometimes a sad person thinks
that corners they are shoved

But then my words fall on death ears
For depressed people yearly
are ignored by their human friends
and never thought of dearly

The sad thing of the matter is
some may now say I’m wrong
help them out when you can
because you may notice when they’re gone.

carol singers

Oh god, here they come, not a nice sight
carol singers on my front drive tonight.
In truth if it wasn’t this time of the year
my sarcasm for them would be much more clear

Christmas cheer. Part one

Ding Dong merrily on high
the local’s shops are singing.
We have put our prices up
and tacky things we’ve slinging.
Can’t buy anything that is plain
our tinsel is the main thing.
There’s not point you should complain
its local, made in Peking.
Get one free if you buy ten
on biscuits with no sales date.
Buy the lot for those at work
and others that you do hate.
Weeks till Christmas but you buy
and then erect your spruce tree.
Two days later it does die
and leave you will just bare wood.

Wednesday, 12 November 2014

hypochondriacs part 1.

Dedicated to my mother and her best friend Lesley. Whose conversations have me in hysterics.

Here come Mildred and Bertha
             waiting for the bus into town
they sit on the chair on the bus stop
             both seem to be wearing a frown.

My varicose veins are killing me
             says Mildred holding on to her knees
these surgical stockings are awful
             but at least they do match my chemise.

Well said Bertha rather abruptly
            my hip replacement is not going well
I can hardly bend down for the paper
           nor walk my old dog Silly bell.

       Well my bed sores are worse said Mildred
           More badly than the ones that you had
the doc says I will soon be in hospital
           because they could be getting too bad.

   My bunions are bad said old Bertha
          my feet feel like two giant bricks
I may get a wheelchair with a motor
         because I barely walk well with sticks.

Well said Mildred my back is still aching
         three discs at a guess have just slipped
So much pain in my back causes fainting
        it does feel that my old backs been whipped.

Well said Bertha I think I have glaucoma
       I can barely see out of my eyes
they said I will soon need a blind dog
      the white stick won’t work cos I’ve tried   

Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Bacon butty.

Oh bacon, lord of snacking.
For midnight feasts when something’s lacking
Take my hand and lead me to the fridge
under shelves of lard and cheese
let thy hand now find you with ease

Oh lord of bacon, lean and without rind
slightly smoked with me in mind
let me fry you in lard or oil
till you are crispy sometimes cremated
Just right for the way you were created.

Oh lord of bacon come hither with bread
so at last I can take you up to bed
and dream of pigs and butchers
Oh yummy I do now declare
as I drop you on the stair

Oh lord of bacon, I do now huff.
As I pick away the hairy fluff.
Not hair of cat, nor hair of dog
will stop my bacon butty feast.
Na this sarnies not deceased.

Marion Grace Woolly.

What a joyful thing it is when you pick up your favourite magazine in a newsagents and find that a friend has a wonderful page spread about her amazing work. With this in hand I exclaimed loudly. OOOh i know her.
Who? said the lady at the counter.
She is impressed at my knowledge of Marion as I open the magazine and show a few people the page.
Of course the lady at the counter also knows I am a writer myself. And once had great fun telling the people in the queue that my poetry makes her laugh.
So now Marion Grace Woolley is known in a small newsagents in the sleepy town of Uckfield.

Find all her wonderful books and profile here at

and order your copy of the writing magazine here at

Tuesday, 4 November 2014

And now for a silly.

Wainbows and fairies and crushed velvet dresses
glitter and sparkles and girlie like tresses
Wands made of fizzles and crystals and bling
these are a few of my glorious things.                
Pink coloured horse’s with flyaway coodle’s
cornflakes and chocolate and bright orange poodles.
Dancing green bunnies and solid gold pigs
these are a few of my thingamajigs

ding dongs and do das and big massive hugs
tea pot and saucepans and comical mugs
big purple hedgehogs that sing in skip
these are a few of my hoojamaflips.