September 16th

As another birthday of mine approaches

And responsibility yet again encroaches

I’m accounting for myself and taking stock

And recounting the minutes of my life’s clock

When I was a child full of frivolity

Oblivious to class, division or quality

Happiness came from kicking a ball

And waiting for my mother’s call

And weekends were taken up

By watching the league or F.A Cup

My innocent like hot air balloons

Drifted away from sunny afternoons

Now I’m chatting about profit and yield

But wanting to hide in a big cornfield

And when be told about new selling techniques

I want to be off school for six long weeks

No internet and no mobile phone

Just Mum to tell us what time to be home

No concerns about price inflation

Just unbridled procrastination

When did those times disappear?

Around the same time as finding beer

Then weekends changed from win or lose

To drinking pints of unnameable booze

Alongside the drinks I was discovering

I learnt that Sundays were for recovering

Woken up only for Full Monty and toast

Then back bed until Sunday roast

Those were the days, the days were mine

Cheered up whenever I think of that time

So kids, hear your folks when they say

These are the greatest of all days

September 15th

He came back after his vacation

He came back with my inspiration

He came back with his wonderful tales

Of life weighed up on different scales

He came back from across the sea

He came back with gifts for me

He came back alive and aglow

Telling me things I wanted to know

He came back after another adventure

He came back as a story dispenser

He came back and I can’t complain

He came back and I’m writing again

September 14th

Another minute wondering why

Another dream, pie in the sky

Another hour wondering when

Another ponder of there and then

Another afternoon of wishing away

Another end to another day

Another morning up bright and early

Another portion of life’s hurly burly

Another month turns out of weeks

Another instance of colourless cheeks

Another month becomes a season

Another example of life treason

Another year is slowly turning

Another chance to continue learning

Another instance of mental squalor

Another day another dollar

Another year is getting longer

Another shot at growing stronger

Another attempt with language and letter

Another model of getting better

Another year of stationary moving

Another occasion of occasional improving

September 13th

Just to be easing my mind

Just to be walking away

Just as I start to unwind

Even if it’s just for a day

Just as calm comes around

Just as things start to ease

Just as peace is being found

Surrounded as I just release

Just as friends arrive

Just as it all begins

Just through the week I survive

The great and the just wins

Just as it all turns alright

Just as it always should be

Just as late turns to light

Just as I’m back to just me

Just as I’m taking stock

Just as I start to discover

Just as I race against clocks

Just enough to just recover

Just a little time for myself

Just some important me time

Just can be good for your health

Just as I’m doing just fine

September 12th

Have I challenged myself too much, given me too much to do?

Did I really think I could or did I write off more than I can chew?

Was it really such an impossible unachievable goal?

I had no idea when it all began that it would spiral out of control

If I’d have know back then, when I was just at the start

That every time I wrote, I would search my soul and my heart

Each time I would try to fill my day, I’d find myself reminiscing

And found all the thoughts I’d felt before, but was constantly dismissing

It is a massive challenge this year that I have set myself

You never know what you can do, collecting dust upon life’s shelf

So I’ve given me something to do, dusted myself down

Meant each word, felt each phrase, lived out every noun

Sure there has been some fluffy content, just to fill the page

But there have been some deeper words, as my writing comes of age

The people that I meet daily have no idea of what I write

But there thoughtless words and actions only maximise my plight

So as we reach the final straight, with all that’s gone before

This journey is at my minds hotel and I’m in on the ground floor 

September 11th

When everyone is telling you what to do

When everyone else knows what’s best

That’s when you become a better you

And get it all off your chest

When everyone has ‘been there done that’

When all have advice to give

When your ups and downs are staying flat

Search deep within yourself

To find your own extreme

It’s good for the soul and health

When you live out your dreams

September 10th

You never have looked so pretty

Than when you’re watching Sex in the city

You know that you’re my only attractor

When slouching in front of X-Factor

I love you with all my heart and soul

When you’re holding the remote control

Our choice in viewing festation

Homes under hammers, location location

In the ad break, you know I care

As our minds round and eyes square

In your pyjamas and your pop socks

I love you most when you’re watching the box

September 9th

I’m going out tonight for a good time

To reminisce over whiskey and wine

To add new comment to our commentary

To add more content to our memory

To fill up our party heartily folder

To put the brakes on us getting older

Something that’ll be alive forever

To give us a reason to get together

To remind us how things are supposed to be

To vanquish all responsibility

To forget the things we’ve left behind

Or to recapture and fully unwind

We’ll debate vocally in raised drunken tones

And take blurry pictures on camera phones

Why do we only do it on birthdays?

We give ourselves ‘what are we worth days

So let’s make it a more regular get together

And make our parties last forever

September 8th

I’m ready for my New York hysteria

And will bring back memories, not memorabilia

You won’t be getting a Liberty key ring

Or Empire State on a string

No Chrysler building encrusted with diamonds

But you might get a postcard from Ellis Island

Who knows what things will happen

When we visit the Isle of Manhattan

I’m gonna wake up, and do it all

Times Square, Grand Central Terminal

Metropolitan and Guggenheim museums

The city that never sleeps is in my dreams

I’m gonna discover, before it gets dark

Every corner of Central Park

All the history and all the talk

Will soon be mine New York New York

Something I’ve always wanted to do

Something that is long overdue

New York envelope me with all you bring

Give me all you have, miss out nothing

I’m like a sponge, ready to absorb

To soak up my well earned reward

I will listen as you start to talk

And wear my T-shirt saying I heart New York

September 7th

It was all mine for the taking

I was getting over the hill

But now my dream is shaking

And my words are standing still

It was a premature celebration

I was, too early, back slapping

I’m now missing my dedication

I’ve been caught out napping

It was all moving swiftly along

And my catalogue began to grow

But somewhere it all went wrong

Now my words are unable to flow

It was filling me with satisfaction

My hard work was beginning to pay

But now I’d like a challenge retraction

As I run out of things to say

It was all turning into my ritual

Something I’d do, whatever

But it been recently less habitual

I’m now not feeling as clever

But even if there’s a tiny chance

For words to flow again

I’d set back into that stance

And make my hills flat again

September 6th

I’m ready now for something to happen

To change my outlook, landscape and pattern

For my daily routine to be turned around

To walk a new path and to tread new ground

I’m ready for a new place and time

For somewhere else to fill my mind

I need another location and another view

I want to look out over some place new

I’m wondering where it will take me

I’m seeking out my new sanctity

But also ready for work mundanity

I’m ready for new buildings and doors

And the subsequent windows and floors

I’m ready for my new life’s beginnings

And ready to spend my gambled winnings

I’m ready and I know it’ll be soon

I’m ready for my once in a blue moon

I’m ready for changes to occur

I’m ready to find a new prefer

I’m ready to attempt to achieve

To pull an ace from up my sleeve

I’m ready for new things to fill my plate

I’ve heard good things come to those who wait

September 5th

There was a young man named Chris 

Who efforts you could never dismiss 

Helpful all the while  

And ready with a smile 

And a soft little face you could kiss 

There was a man named John 

Who was as good as the day is long 

His careful driving  

Kept the business thriving  

But his stories go on and on 

There was a young lady named Claire 

Who was never happy with her hair 

She tried to dye it  

Her fella wouldn’t buy it 

He didn’t want others to stare 

There was a girl named Ellie 

Who constantly thought of her belly 

She would eat and consume  

Until she had no more room 

And she’d get in the way of the telly 

There once was a guy called Gav 

A fashion crisis he’d have 

When he wore his gold trainers 

He’d get strange looks from strangers 

They thought him a bit of a chav

September 4th

It all started as a crazy scheme

Which has now gone a little extreme

It was fun for a while, well, at first

But now I’m feeling completely submersed

 In a river of my words, I am drowning

Spending my days thinking and frowning

 Making my mind contract and contort

Trying to find a witty retort

Struggling to find some rhyme for my reason

I appear to have a word lesion

Every new page is a furrowed brow

I’ve got to get this finished somehow

What if I made my burden lighter?

Hire in a paid ghost writer

This task is overpowering and daunting

Maybe it could use a little haunting

I want all the reward and glitter

To prove that I’m no quitter

There’s no one else who’ll write like me

Who’ll get across my daily insanity

No else could recall such personal times

In broken English and nearly rhymes

So you’re stuck with me as brain cells diminish

I’ll see you there when we get to the finish

I’ve put my kettle back on the boil

Til we get to the line and you wrap me in foil

September 3rd

The tale of Lofty and Little Legs

A bubblesome troublesome pair

As good together as bacon and eggs

One way here, the other way down there

The biggest big and the littlest little brother

Who had adventures of all kinds

Watched over constantly by Mother

Sharing in the tales of their minds

So open your ears to listen

To stories from far and wide

Switch your mind to the on position

And take a look at what happens inside

September 2nd

Whether it the satin sheets of a five star hotel

I still wouldn’t sleep all that well

It’s not just the sheets that cause distress

But the unfamiliar pillow and mattress

I’ll start my uncomfy bed frustration

With goldilocks style elimination

If I’m going to have a silent night

I need a bed that is just right

Single, double, queen or king size

Is considered before I close my eyes

Sheets or duvet pyjamas or pant less

It’s all Willy nilly in my unconsciousness

How my head lays when asleep I go

Is all determined by the cut of my pillow

Bouncy, alive, floppy or dead

Or folded over to support my head

Wake up in the night just to check

A sharp pain running down my crocked neck

Duck down or goose or whatever you’re used to

Nothing will make your dreams come true

When I think of the pillows come and gone

With my DNA strands and my dribble on

The nicest pillow that money can afford

Gets eaten up the wonky headboard

As Dorothy said, ‘There’s no place like home’

And there is no pillow like your own

September 1st

It shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t feel down

But I know its back to the same life in the same town

Out here you’re anybody with anyone’s views

This is what they call the blue sky blues

You relax and unwind and make each day count

Walking, talking eating and drinking large amounts

You know that soon time together you’ll lose

I guess I’m suffering from the blue sky blues

You know that it’ll be like it was before

Heating on and staying indoors

Before too long you’ll have blown a fuse

That’s why they call it the blue sky blues

You’ll arrive home and restart your routine

Be as mundane as you’ve always been

Through your photos you’ll slowly peruse

Extending the agony of the blue sky blues

No sitting on balcony’s watching the world go by

No more hot sun, no more clear sky

Just you, work and an alarm button with snooze

Mourning in the morning with the blue sky blues

But holiday has made me quite the Socrates

Why can’t we be blown along with the breeze?

Take your relaxing holiday in the sun

To change who you are and what you’ve become

Change your mind, life and views

Never get burnt by the blue sky blues

August 31st

What does it mean, what will it become?

A choking non-starter or bestselling number one

Where am I coming from, how will it look?

Self obsessive nonsense? Or just writing a book?

Who will buy it, what’s my demographic?

Is it just a journal or is it journalistic?

It’s just a pile of words that my brains concocted

Not characters no begin and no end plotted

Everyday gabbing and who wants that?

A negative response or a firm back pat?

But whatever happens, which ever shelf it fills

Be it nice hardback or fifty pence deals

The point is I’ve done it, I had a year

And although the purpose isn’t that clear

The achievement will be an inner success

After the emotions of writers distress

The first time that I have stuck to a plan

Climbing the hill and believing I can

When the end comes it’ll be a personal glory

Not a full stop, but a comma in my story

A new challenge will fit my new year

And as with this, the destination is unclear

I’m buying a ticket and my journey begins

Turning some failures in to some wins

I’m Casey Junior coming down the other side

Thanks for your patience; I hope you enjoy the ride

August 30th

The early towel riser, so much to do

Select daytime seating, join breakfast queue

Up with the lark as the night is diminished

Placing towels before the cleaning staff finish

People waiting like a pack on the prowl

My brolly, my sun bed, look here’s my towel!

Do they do this back in Blighty?

The selective ownership society

Are we so predictable and crass?

Are we defunct of decorum and lacking in class?

As soon as bed reservation is out of the way

It’s time to head to the breakfast buffet

Flavours from the local area of course

Plus endless bottle of Red and Brown sauce

What must they think? What have we become?

Give them Sky Sports and copies of the Sun

Locals speak English, so no need to learn lingo

Knobbly knees contest and some bingo

All signs and menus have been translated

So the vacant vacationer’s minds are vacated

What must they think of us as a nation?

Aren’t we opposed to such segregation?

At home we mix with folks from different lands

Is this how they treat the Germans and Italians?

Time to get up from your towel covered chair

And discover the country that’s waiting out there

August 29th

Of a Spanish holiday, I ‘m much akin

Familiarity of somewhere I’ve never been

Whether it be an island of mainland Spain

The sight sounds and tastes remain the same

Are far back as my memories reach

It’s always been bed, breakfast and beach

Suddenly I’m a ten year old kid

Doing the same things that he did

I’m in my swim shorts, a pasty fool

On the balcony overlooking the pool

Big Brits abroad, splashing and sweating

Plenty of bombing, diving and heavy petting

This is what they call fun

A towel, a bed, a pint, the Sun

These are my countrymen on tour

Coming here as they’ve done before

This is what they call a vacation

With no localised assimilation

This is their summer sun kissed

Locals passed and culture missed

But maybe if they get the chance

They’ll taste paella and see a flamenco dance

It’s for the English that they cater

They chuck in a charming Spanish waiter

They’ll be back for the weather and the beers

Spanish holiday, not changed in years

August 28th

Lovely return after a four year hiatus

I’ve changed all our money into pesetas

Lovely place, weather and company

Just around the corner the beach and the sea

You have to be up early to reserve a bed with a towel

Where’s Dave when I need him now

Having a drink for my Ma & Pa

Dos cervaza and a Lumumba

Reminiscing about times spent in the sun

Small Spanish houses and my dog bite your bum

Sitting by the pool nursing a beer

All is good and wish you were here