The Green Wheelbarrow (IP)

What a man he was our dad
a garden with sweet peas
trellising up
the bamboo canes

Mum would say carrots to see in the dark
cabbage to make the hair curl
potatoes with long roots
trudging about in welly boots

An allotment with all things in
but creep down at night inebriated
and pick the biggest bunch of flower's
off of someone else's garden for me

His name displayed
on the side of his
butcher's bike
painter decorator esq;

Sometimes he would strain
his paint
through a pair
of nylon tights

Or thin paint down
with a bit of turps
wipe all his
brushes on too

Could hang his wallpaper
thick or thin
rose scrolls on the ceiling
looked so appealing

Sign writing fascinating to watch
a little rub here and there
to make his letters
ABC right

His toad in the hole
was a wonderful taste
welsh rarebit
with a sprinkle of oxo

Could have lived longer
maybe if didn't smoke his
woodbines so much
finger's tarred with nicotine

Cut out his
beer with a chaser
whiskey
and a barley wine

Violin accordian piano
could play
none of us as
clever as him

As kids two of us out
of six would load his
green wheelbarrow
up hill and down dale

And laugh!
at the rainbows end

Ladders and paint cans on
walk push miles away
puffed out phew!
just for dad

I would never put him in the
green wheelbarrow
and cover him with turf
just for the night

But would have loved
him by my side
just as I did
the morning he died

And my dear mum
Violet a small bunch
her favourite flower
in a plant pot every hour

Psychic as he was
will never know
that beautiful
magic ring

Was bad for me
from beginning
to end more like
a poison one

So sorry had to get
rid of it told and the dvd
like my poem
"My Beautiful Ring'

sorry so late!
5 minutes squiggles
put to-gether
all comments and corrections please
Don't worry if it is too late for (IP)
Editor (Tony)