Who Needs A Nearby Place To Grieve? Comical poem 778 by Angela Lansbury.

 Who do we need a place to grieve

A tombstone, monument with names?

Or tee-shirts, tattoos, names on sleeves

Old pictures in new picture frames

Some like to move old dead away

Cemeteries, later move old bones

Cemeteries car parks, parks for play

Hidden, stored on walls, old tombstones

While some move on, gran's gone away

Graves once a year seclude your tears

Whilst others want the dead to stay

Say angels on shoulders calm fears

Some think souls live and will return

Fly past as short-lived butterflies

(Yet not as bugs in rugs nor worms)

Sweet memories when someone dies

We give them little when they live

Spend our money on us instead

Then spend huge sums on wakes and graves

When it's too late and they are dead

A quick death brings one day of pain

The birth and death dates make a frame

New birthdays, weddings aren't the same

But old pix show joys lived again.

And now money they saved is spent

On building a fine monument

A statue, standing, or reclined

In an upstanding frame of mind.

-ends-

Spike Milligan statue and commentary plaque in park in Finchley, north west London. Photo by Angela Lansbury. Copyright.

I changed the last line of the penultimate verse

from

But photos show joys lived again

to

But old pix show joys lived again.

Photos is a much better word than the horrid neologism (recently new word) pix. But I wanted to clarify that it is photos of old weddings, not photos of new weddings, which revive happy memories.

I added the last verse when I came back to add a photo on Saturday May 9th 2026.

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From A Loved One In Heaven comic poem 387 by Angela Lansbury Postscript Poem 388

 Sometimes I feel sad that I've lost my love

But I hear  them laughing up above

They say: I'm getting bored up here

So I thought I'd wave to you, my dear,

I've seen the world from high in the sky

I've seen the planets, clouds and snow

I've said hello to friends that I know

Pharoahs, Elvises and Hitlers all smiled hello

I thought I'd send you a butterfly

A ladybird and a falling leaf

It isn't much but a little sign

For those with lots or a little belief

Escaping from the winter chills

Are gardens full of daffodils

To help climb mountains of Wills and bills

Flowers cure ills with signs of goodwill

Just a little something to bring relief

I'm getting bored up here alone

Far from the loved ones so long known

I hope you've seen the signs I've shown

I know you'll join me before too long

Meanwhile for the others please stay strong

Water the plants and try to get along

Think, a lifetime of love, sing a favourite song.

Please stop doubting, please stop shouting

Up here at last I have found peace

I shake my head and tut at arguments beneath

I don't need towers, flowers or a wreath 

Just keep busy down below

Dusting the dust, or shovelling up soft snow

Think of me smiling up above

Like a hand in a glove, a liftime of love.

When an hour has passed

When a day has passed

When a week, then a year

You'll find peace at last

After the funeral

Don't dwell on what's gone

The world like the traffic is moving on

Enjoy a steak, a lettuce leaf or scone

It's no use asking me to come back

Friends and family can give what you lack

You put away the white and the black

Drink some water, have a small snack

Smile at the memory

Of when we were together

I'm smiling from above

In every kind of weather.

-ends-

Postcript Poem 388

Writing poetry does speed up 

when you stop running gthough the alphabet

 trying to find rhymes 

and instead just google 'rhymes with' 

and the ending of the word on the last line

All of a sudden the poem is done

And you keep writing rhymes, not intended

Like this one..

Please share links to your favourite poems on thse blog posts.

Another Mother's Day in the USA is on the second Sunday in May.

PS Does the spelling of daffodill defeat you. Two (effing) effs and one of everything else.

Ladybird in the US ladybug.

Photo of Angela Lansbury, travel writer and author of 20 books, with daffodils. Selfie taken in March 2024. Copyright.

If I Were You comic poem 349 by Angela Lansbury

Dear, if I were you

Then where would you be?

For if I were you

I could not be me

You'd have to be me!

If a butterfly

And I fluttered by

You would ask me why

If I were a bee

I would make honey

My boss the farmer

Would make more money

If I were a bird

I'd not say a word

No thoughts would be heard

If I were a bird

If I were a horse

I'd run fast, of course

Neigh 'til I was hoarse

If I were a horse

If I were a cat

I'd sleep on the mat

Not care about that

If I were a cat

If I were a cloud

I'd not laugh out loud

That is not allowed

If you are a cloud

If I were a tree

How odd that would be

I could not be me

If I were a tree

If we were all fish

In ponds, streams, or sea

Non-swimmers can't be

I'm lucky I'm me.

Now let's start again

Pretend we're all men

All cocks but no hens

Don't let's start again

Last, if I were you

That would never do

You know that it's true

I'm me, and you're you

Let's think about it

You'll never doubt it

Don't take thoughts too far!

Leave things like they are!

-ends-

Photo Angela Lansbury in butterfly pattern caftan.

Please share links to your favourite poems.

My Dear Reader (Comic Poem No.138 ) by Nutter (aka Angela Lansbury)

Every writer loves a poor spendthrift reader

Like naive followers love a rich, successful leader

Great thoughts when you let them out

First flap like wet washing, then butterfly about

Writers may start out befuddled

With lots of fine words jumbled, muddled

But keenly clean and iron them out

With thoughts of cute baby readers cuddled

Now we enjoy the internet, beat it, meet it

Which grabs thoughts like repeated ads you can't forget

Hope readers recall where they read it

So that they can give you credit

You can boast of love

Kick the air in a rage

Drop wild emotions

On an innocent page

Steal from a dictionary

Borrow from a thesaurus

Bow down before judges, 

All the geniuses before us

Ugly words obstruct like heavy logs

Half formed thoughts jump about like frogs

Indecision, like too many pretty hats

As the saying goes, like herding cats

But after years when we totter and rehearse

We can inject fast like a skilful nurse

Commas pause like little railway stations

Stops end lines, the terminus of punctuation

Shouting down the century

Daring to write on the page

Strutting on a hidden stage

Trying to dodge the waiting grave

To readers seeking what they lack

Like us, they try to answer back

Declaiming to the silent wall

When nobody can hear at all

And yet, like a map, a signpost, a guide, my writing works

Though the sender is dead, deaf or blind

Thoughts like an Uber arrow of dinner, dessert and drink

Leave my bow, reach the target, your mind.

I can pass on praise, create words of hope

For every ill, find an antidote

Paint a dance, sing a song, a merry whistle

Words can lighten, brighten and glitter like crystal.

And so, dearest reader, I share my treasure

And give to you new joy, in the old parcel of pleasure. 

-ends-

Dreaming Of A Childhood Garden

White house rose garden.

 

Last night I dreamed my life again Night dreams should sort and right day's wrong Your hopes and wishes, fogs and fears Muddled bad cleared, like a good song I wiped the haze and rainy daze Dreamt of flowers, back in London Like my childhood, sunlit, unfazed Walking in an English garden Curtains let in light to wake you Green grass, green oaks, and a blue sky Cool dew, long paths lead to new views Red rose bushes grow up eye high Yesterday I saw butterflies Changi airport, an oasis You think you're reborn, no-one dies Papers reveal Zika's crises Far from leaves and far from green grass Our plane jolts down in neon Hong Kong Skyscrapers soothe changing colours Air-conditioned, what could go wrong? Too many crowds, too much litter Live fish in tanks, dead on our plate There no fresh fruit, too much sugar We've flown, we're tired, it's getting late That's why I dreamed my life again Night dreams should sort out right from wrong Like rose scents which last one hour I'm a curled and coloured flower I wake refreshed to start my day I'm small but see friends in a while So all past cares have flown away I'm small but lift lives with my smile. Copyright Angela Lansbury September 1st 2016. Written after a trip from Singapore to Hong Kong.