Patrick Davies

West Wittering, Sussex, UK

Born in 1929, I have a Cambridge MA in Economics and Law. After a business career in UK to Managing Director level I spent sixteen years with UN organizations living and working in the Caribbean, Africa, Bangladesh and the Gulf and retired in 1984. Married to Lorna since 1953 we have four children and six grandchildren (+2 steps) living within fifty miles of our seaside home. In the last two years my poems have appeared in nine anthologies with more on the way. I was a semi-finalist at the 1997 International Society of Poets Annual Conference in Washington and have since published POETRY'S FUN. I remain a prolific Poet. (E-mail me at littlerawdon@clara.net)

Poetry's Fun

Poetry's Fun,
If the words will run
Off the end of your pen
as you're writing.
Even to rhyme
All of the time
Can really be quite exciting!

Possessed by the Muse,
One cannot refuse
To follow wherever she's leading;
But what are your views.
When the Muse doth refuse
To respond to your indigent
pleading?

With no Muse to thank
Your verses go blank
And even your rhymes are
appalling!
So pray that she stays
To the end of your days
Or Poet will not stay your calling!

Just One Of Those Days

Do you ever have "Just one of those days"
When nothing goes right and everything wrong?
Even by lunch you're still in a daze
Wondering why the day is so long!

On "one of those days" you should stay in bed,
But you don't know it is one until you are up,
When you speedily find how up you are fed
And how sorrowfully full to the brim is your cup!

This I'm afraid has been "one of those days!"
I'll spare you the details and hope day is done.
Perhaps now its dark Fate has mended her ways
And we can relax for an evening of fun!

The Clothes Peg

Who first invented the clothes peg?
Split a twig to go over a line?
The clothes may grow cold and faded and old,
But that peg will keep them all mine.

The winds blow from every direction,
Light breezes to full-blooded gales.
Yet firmly they hold, more precious than gold,
The garments, which billow like sails.

Each day, when I stand with my basket
To hang all my clothes out to dry,
I think of the rest, who, with similar zest,
Are doing the same thing as I.

The rest, who are numbered in millions,
Live in countries located world-wide,
All colours, all creeds, all classes, all needs,
But all need their clothes to be dried!