A Poem for Thursday

The Midsummer Knight's Dream

This morning at the Thursday morning writers group the prompt was  from Margaret K.

" Brush up your Shakespeare"

.

But some of us were grieving for another writer of both comedy and tragedy ....

Victoria Woods. 

Then on top of it being Shakespeare's birthday this week...a double whammy with The Queen's 90th. today. What a week! Now whether you are for or against the Monarchy...to celebrate a 90th birthday and be the longest reigning Queen ever, deserves at the very least a mention.

 But my thoughts were about Victoria...the Queen of Comedy since the 70s......and this one is for her...and for her beloved Morecambe...and in particular Lubin's...a place of inspiration. We were lucky enough to eat there  many times before it closed its doors for good. 

I have read that..." Is it on the trolley?"... maybe a quote from Lubin's !!!!!

Some artistic licence in this mad sonnet.

The Midsummer Knights Dream

We sat on the crimson red sofa,

The potter, the daughter and me.

We ordered a platter with cheeses

Some bread and a big pot of tea.

When who should come in through the doorway

With her children and husband in tow

Victoria and the Magician

In his best Sunday suit and his bow.

The sun caught the top of his bald pate,

She heaved up her boobs from below.

Her kids ordered meat pie at Lubin's

And icecream to have on the go.

But the dream was just Midsummer Madness

For she's gone, and we're left with our sadness.

A Poem for Thursday....dVerse week 90

Tea in The Garden

Sometimes tea was taken in the garden

A starched white cloth edged with lace

Thrown over a green baize card table

A cake iced with chocolate, proud on a plate

On a fine china plate in the middle of the table

Baked to keep our young energies up.

Four hard chairs brought out from the dining room

No garden chairs for us in those days.

Hot brewed tea poured like  golden liquor

From a shiny silver pot and sloshed into china cups.

No vulgar mugs for us in the garden

But a porcelain rim made for taste and pleasure

Which we raised to our lips as the sun shone down .

Tea was  made with fragrant floating leaves

No tea bags then but a little silver sieve

That nestled in a dish and caught them in the net

Though a few floated there like a rock pool by the sea

And we supped them up like perfume ‘twixt the  teeth and the tongue.

We were not so fussy then in the days

When we were young.

It's such a long time since I posted anything for dVerse...so I hope that maybe one or two might have some memory of me aeons ago!! followed you though here and on twitter every day. Love to see what is happening in Poetryland.  Tashtoo is in charge and I'm offering her a memory of days in the garden in Belfast.....yonks ago!