This Is Your Pilot Speaking

This Is Your Pilot Speaking

 Song about a Poor Airline* 

by Angela Lansbury 

 “This is your pilot, 

I’m speaking to say 

You’re welcome aboard 

Our Happy Airlines 

Don’t be afraid on runway nor skyway 

Films show life’s worse 

Stuck down Chilean mines* 

 Copyright Angela Lansbury 2016 I typed this out with line breaks but the blog post system has kindly corrected it thinking I inserted line breaks by accident. If I knew HTML (which is not difficult) I might be able to re-load with proper line breaks. To remind myself, and inform you, dear reader, the HTML (hyper text mark up language?) is simple. It inserts ordinary English language instructions such as insert paragraph or insert line break followed inside a special bracket to show that is not part of the text but a layout instruction. I shall do that next time.

 However, even poets have lives to live apart from writing and reading poetry. So I must go away. I'll try to fix this next time I write a post.

About the author

Angela Lansbury B A Hons ACG ALB PM5 EH5 DL5 VC5 
The Author of several books, including  Etiquette For Every Occasion. Wedding Speeches & Toasts. How to be the Best Man. Quick Quotations. Who Said What When.

Blogs travelwithangelalansbury.blogspot.com

dressofthedayangela.blogspot.com

translateforfun.blogspot.com

Braddell Heights Advanced Toastmasters Speakers Club Vice President Public Relations (VPPR), Previous President

Join BHA 1st Wednesday 7pm and 3rd Saturday 2 pm Singapore time

 

Vice President Public Relations (VP PR) of Tampines Changkat Advanced;

Secretary of weekly online Singapore International Dynamic Toastmasters Speakers’ Club;

Member and past president of Harrovians toastmasters club, UK; Past member of HOD Toastmasters, London. Past member in Singapore of: Toastmasters Club of Singapore (TCS); Tiarel; and Senja Cashew.

More details from Toastmasters International find a club.

Regular attendee at annual Swanwick Writers’ School, England.

Regular attendee at annual Writers’ Holiday, Wales.

Contributor to poetry readings, and after tea courses on: Speaking On Radio To Promote Books; and Plots And Character.

Winner of many club and area speaking contests in the UK and Singapore.

Language advisor to Empire Toastmasters club in Indonesia.

Language and speech workshops in Singapore.

Speaker on radio and TV in England, Scotland, the USA, and Australia.

Compiler of a school course on public speaking for teachers to prepare pupils for school open days with attending ceremonies before government ministers, Singapore.

Former member of Harrow Writers’ Circle, London, and two writing groups in Singapore.

Angela is on Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest, Twitter. She would be delighted to link up with new friends.

 Please share links to your favourite posts.

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.

The Hardest Part of Writing A Poem

Comment to Darren Scanlon who uploaded his poem
The Ballad Of Fred The Frog
on webpage Poets United

Dear Poet

You wrote a funny poem
You wrote a poem to amuse
I must say you succeeded
It blew away my late night blues

I love to read new poems
I feel I've found new friends
Whether a poem's long or short
I'm sorry when it ends

Your poem has inspired me
It's made me want to write
And if I don't write right away
I'll be up half the night

A poem, plus a drawing!
I must say I'm impressed
Quite frankly, now that I'm retired
I struggle to get dressed

The thing I want to ask you
Which bothers me the most
My dear, how do you do it -
How do you upload a post?

Angela Lansbury (annalondon8@gmail.com)

Holiday On The Internet

Making Memories With You

by Angela Lansbury

Wear your sarong; the only thing to pack's
Your suitcase of memories you must bring back
Tomorrow we're taking our best trip yet
A holiday around the internet

We both wake up late at the crack of dawn
From dreams of tennis on a big green lawn
White cricket balls which arch overhead, slow
My holiday, garden bouquet - let's go!

We don't need taxis if we stay at home
You're in the en suite, so I'm not alone
Watch a stranger's tail-wag dog eat a bone
You march past, smile, on a fully charged phone

When at our peak we were admired
Now in a lull, when half-retired
We feel poor, take our holiday
At home, free parking on our driveway

Drink fresh coffee from our machine
Sit cuddling, sharing our travel dream
Travel back through the photo ages
We click, trek Everest on YouTube pages

First class flights, the best trips yet
Balloon world-wide around the internet
We don't need jabs, nor to pack sun cream
Change money, buy mosquito screen

We sit close, share what's on the screen
Make lists, screen capture where we've been
Toss dice, you choose first where you want to go
To ski past chalets in deep snow

Then I can sail for somewhere sunny
Take a long cruise which costs no money
Land on a shell beach in a foreign land
Cocktails, coconuts, palms, soft sand

Swim safely in wavy, white-blue seas
Drink endless red wine and eat blue cheese
Share bubbly on our best trip yet
Dance the crowded, colourful, musical internet.

In carry cot or wheelchair, seventy or seven
Sick or in five star hotels, live every day in heaven.

-ends-
Copyright Angela Lansbury, travel writer and photographer, comic poet.

Hoarder's Song by Angela Lansbury

Are you living in a clutter?
Did you learn it from your mother?
Just saving for a rain-swept day
So never giving stuff away?

Yes, collecting is rewarding
Wasteful folks may claim you're hoarding
They're not to bleu. You're not to blame
If you store two things, both the same

If you've two then they make a pair
Don't tell me that I ought to share
Don't say you're 'helping' 'cos you care
I'll lock all my doors, so beware

I'm tidy and dust when I must
Store leftovers, eat the last crust
I store what's broken or shows rust
There's no cleaner I could trust

Recycle, all can be repaired
Retired and poor I'm not yet scared
I can save cuttings from long hair
I've two lifetime's clothes yet to wear

I never lend, never borrow
But I'll tidy up - tomorrow.
-ends-
Author's note:
Inspired by
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3606311/Former-university-lecturer-59-clutter-spilling-letterbox-30-years-hoarding-thousands-books-lecture-notes-exam-papers-finally-clear-out.html#reader-comments

Angela Lansbury, May 24 2016 copyright

Today I'm Not One Hundred

100

Today I'm Not One Hundred
by Angela Lansbury

Today I'm not one hundred
I'm a hundred and one!
It's tomorrow in Australia
Wave to my iPad, oh what fun!

My arms are frail, my fingers thin
Don't ask me to shake hands
Don't ask about my future
What's the point of making plans?

I've been sent vouchers for bungee jumping
And balloon trips to Australia
And some kind folks in Switzerland
Have sent discounts on euthanasia

Who are my friends? My dear, all ghosts
Of the past, I hear their laughter
Don't send more money-making priests
With bills, wills - prayers for the hereafter

What have I done? Eaten birthday cake
You ask me where I've been?
Speak up! What? I'm lip-reading -
Did you ask me who I've seen?

You can see all my photographs
Fading faces on the wall
I keep signing books, giving autographs
Getting chocolates, eat them all

You ask me what is the secret
Of living long? So long? Too long?
Like the queen mother, who had health and wealth
Drink bubbly, smile and stagger on

What do I eat? Just mushy stuff
Good teeth soft, not yet rotten
Now what's your name? Tell me again
I've already forgotten

I'd love to hear about your life
Dear, I wish you all the best!
Tell me, is our five minutes up?
I need my commode, a bath, a rest.

You asked if I'm staying queen?
This sign language stuff is hard!
Yes, I'm treated like a queen!
Yes, future kings signed a joint card!
-ends-

Flying Home See 'Si' Sea

Flying Home (Singapore to London)

by Angela Lansbury

See - the sky’s blue; the sunshine’s gold

The clouds look soft, fluffy, bright white.

Watched comic films, dramas, warm, coldI

Yet slept sound, upright, half the night

Cross new Europe, Poland, not Spain

“Si!” Languages ‘oui’ understand

Back to face bills, take pills again -

Rain waters rose, pines, waved wheat land

Water glasses clink like di’monds

Omelette, like perfume, wafts through air

Smilers wheel breakfast, offer choice

Shut eyes, dream, rest - stretch - soon be there!

Houses like toys, stand in neat rows

Cute cars race past puffed tiny trains

Drop down! Below, maybe hail, snows

Who cares - clunk, bump - we’re home again!

Angela Lansbury

May 2016

Poet’s notes: 

Inspired by a Facebook post enthusing about flying back to London.

I wrote the poem about flying over Spain, then a member of my family said that you don't fly over France or Spain from Singapore but over Poland.

Puns on sea and si, oui and we.

I changed roses to rose to save a syllable, which leaves the word rose ambiguous between a noun and the past tense of a verb, no longer meaning roses in English gardens but evoking flood water from the river or sea which rises or rose.

I changed cute cars which is alliterative to allow an extra syllable for puffed tiny trains which is both visual, puffing train, and ambiguous, the puffed or exhausted train, stops to let cars overtake. 

The scenes in the films are serious and comic, warm and cold. So is the temperature change in the plane from warm when boarding in Singapore to cold when arriving in London, England.Then I reinserted cute and deleted small, since I already had toys and tiny to convey the idea of small.  I thought of ‘houses like toy teeth, tombstones,’ or ‘neat milk teeth rows’ but I left the sentence unchanged to flow. The clunk is the dropping of the undercarriage; the bump is the plane landing.

In May when we flew back reports in the BBC news were of snow in Scotland the Midlands and even London, where snow did not settle but hailstones fell. Previous weeks had seen a heatwave in London. At the time of writing, May 10 2016, another heatwave.

Waved wheat land. Land is a bit dull. What you see from windows above as you fly over England (or travel by train) is undulating land (unlike the miles of flat land in Holland or what I saw for several days in central America in the nineteen sixties when I took a Greyhound bus) and in England you see leaves and trees and crops waving in the wind