All Poems Copyright
Helen Catherine Cramer
May be used with credit given to author

Buyer Beware Sales
Appliances need updating
Cook tops have broken down
Of the stove you question heating
And on the microwave you frown.

The dishwasher takes some working
And sales are on the town
So you make decisions quickly
Before the whole lot lets you down.

The bench top needs rebuilding
The sink has taps that drip
The salesman is convincing
So the lot goes to the tip.

But nothing fits in order
And you've paid your money down
It will be a major job to fit again
All appliances you've thrown out.

I saw it in the paper,
And I thought
That's just for me -
A competition running
For artists still to be.

I dreamt of inks and colours,
Long lost childhood dreams -
When with pen, brush and canvas
I'd sketch the local scenes.

I rushed down to the paint shop
And scanned the goods on show,
All the inks and colours
To set me up to go.

The canvas and the paper,
Though I'd bought it all before -
Beckoned with such promise
I was convinced I needed more.

I forked out all the dollars,
More than the prize to win-
Once they saw my drawing
As an artist I'd be in.

I carried home my treasures
And placed them on the floor,
In a corner in the cupboard
With the dreams I'd bought before.

No matter that they sit there,
One day I'll do my thing -
For the glory of my dreaming
Is enough to make me sing -

In time I'll be an artist
For all the world to see,
Treasures from my cupboard
Will bring fame and wealth to me.

I'll paint and sketch my dreaming,
With the things that I have stored -
And treasures worth redeeming
Will leave the cupboard floor.
Waiting by the telephone
Wanting you to call,
Wasting many hours at home
Knowing you won't ring at all.

Waiting for a letter
Knowing it won't come,
Crying I should have known better
Loving you was dumb.

Waiting till the pain goes
Praying that I might die,
Hoping 'I don't care shows'
Knowing that I'll survive.
Why Can't The language?
Why can't the language
Be spelt like it's spoke?
Or spoke like it's spelt
Makes sense to my mind.

Take hair and air,
They are perfect in rhyme
But then we have hare of the animal kind;
Where is the i to change it from are?
Why have an e? - it isn't in car.

Night and sight are two of a kind
Confused by bite and kite of a rhyme,
Why can't the language
Be spelt like it's spoke?

Earth and birth, an a and an i,
Sound both the same
But not to the eye.

If you don't stop for a break
But continue to bake,
You can almost be certain
You will develop an ache.

If searching for peace
Or a piece of advice,
Don't wait till next week
Nor tread on weak ice.

You can chase or pace
And decide to sing bass,
Seem to dream or scheme
Or sew up a seam;

Send in the army
Before you go balmy.
Why can't the language
be spelt like it's spoke?

When we study the spelling,
The vowels and the sound,
It's a language of beauty,
to explore it we're bound;

Threaded with colour
As a melody sealed
The language of English
Has always appealed.

Will you be mine, my Valentine,
Even if but for a day?
I'll shower you with kisses
And hold you with love
And let others think what they may.

And when it's all over
I'll wave you goodbye
With memories only to dream;
Of the day that we spent, in happy content
Until next years Valentine's day.

Written when Chris, my grandson, was a toddler.
I would sing it to him at bathtime

Come little boy, let's take a bath
Where is the soap and let's have a laugh
Where is the washer
And where are your toys
Come little boy let's make a noise.

I'll run the water and you'll stand by
Then into the tub to watch the soap fly
We'll rub it and scrub it
And blow bubbles high
So little boy, there is no need to cry.


The man was old weathered and grey,
But he had made plenty of money in his day;
The woman was young, wilful and gay
She thought nought of what neighbours had to say.

She married him for his money
He married her for lust
Her words were as sweet as honey
He loved as an old man must.

For a time all was peaceful
They lived life as a dream
Until the foolish wife went wandering
And his money went down the stream.

Then one day the old man wakened
From his life as though a dream
And saw the foolish maiden
For all she had come to mean.

He changed his will from henceforth
Wiped her of the slate
But the silly foolish maiden
Was wise to change the date.

So still they live together
Playing a foolish game
Waiting for each other's passing
Where death only has a name.

They are one of the very best matches
Both are well mated in life;
She's got a fool for a husband
And he's got a fool for a wife.

I did my homework on Doggeral
But burlesque is not for me
So I decided to try something trivial
Not quite a grotesque parody.

There was an old woman
who lived in a shoe
She had so many children
You know with who.

The butcher, the postman and Sam
Or was it the brother of some other man,
But the darling old woman
Who lived in a shoe
Asked that I introduce her to you.

She'll tickle your feet
And turn up your toes,
Until the scent from the boudoir
Is high on the nose.


The Dog
Pampered and cared for, nourished since birth,
His lineage perfect, though at times there was mirth;
When his mother would wander
A true one to find
And then we would catch her, though just in time.

A dog full of stamina, bones all in line
Came up to the standard of dogs of his kind.
His father was chosen, though his mother declined
Then finally gave in, when we showed her our mind.

Pampered and cared for, he showed us his mirth
When the scent of his true love fell on the earth,
He widened his nostrils and with tail held astern
Escaped from our keeping, his goodbye was curt.

"I'll be back for my dinner
My bed and my perch
I expect you'll still love me
Though for love I have lurched."

Battered and weary he returned to the fold
A dog full of-stamina, his standard in tow
Though the line of his off spring
We'll never know.

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