Enter The Realm of the Pendragon


You Can't Do Yoga On A Beanbag
The Lecture
Return To Wonderland
The Boy Inside
The Rose And The Ivy

You Can't Do Yoga On A Beanbag

Technology of all kinds is around us every day.
"The wonders of the modern world," our elders often say.
But behind all our advances, one simple thing will lag,
The art of doing yoga on a beanbag.

A wise man once told me that life was much too short,
For lengthy calculations of any kind or sort.
He said, "Keep your mind active, by playing mental tag,
While practising yoga on a beanbag."

Yoga is a way to keep healthy, it is true,
Providing mind and body with its benefits to you.
Yet despite all its attractions, there is just one snag,
You still can't do it on a beanbag.

Some wise guy in the Sixties wanted a new kind of chair
So totally hip and groovy for those who were not square.
Then late one night as his enthusiasm began to sag
Quite by accident he invented - the beanbag.

Beanbags are still with us, they will never go away
Through the Seventies and the Eighties they continued to stay.
Then a man in the Nineties, who was probably quite mad
Decided to try yoga on a beanbag.

So we can watch the News At Ten tomorrow afternoon at three.
In the future, we can see today as history.
The hairstyles and fashions will no doubt make us gag,
But we still can't do yoga on a beanbag.

The Lecture

I'm sitting at the back.
I cannot see a thing.
My eyes are growing heavy,
My brain has sprouted wings.
I do not see the point
Of being here today.
I start to daydream easily,
I'm a thousand miles away.
The lecturer's voice is growing dim,
My pen drops from my hand.
I feel a sea-breeze on my face
As on a beach I stand.
The sun beats down upon my head,
I slip sunglasses on.
I'm wearing shorts and t-shirt,
My heavier clothes are gone.
I wander slowly along the beach
Sipping an ice-cold Coke,
Humming softly to myself
And eyeing up some bloke.
Suddenly noise is in my ears.
I'm jolted from my dream.
The class is over, people going
I've slept right through it seems.
I gather up my things and run,
My face is going red.
My classes done, I stagger home
And go straight back to bed.


I never noticed before the differings in eyes,
With varieties in shape, in colour and in size.
Staring and glaring with a grin or a frown,
Fixedly gazing at some kind of clown.

Small children pointing and saying, "Look, mum!"
Mothers replying, "Don't stare at her, son."
Not caring at all for this strange looking freak,
Who strides along and turns the other cheek.

Builders on scaffolding shout, "Hello, love!"
But the person below doesn't look up above.
Spluttering, muttering for the rest of the day,
They all discuss her and decide she was gay.

Long legs, high heels, short skirt, blonde hair
Is it any wonder that all the men stare?
Pretty as a picture - who would ever guess
Of the secret that's hiding under that dress?


It's suddenly December.
It's well into Winter.

It's dark at
7 a.m.
It's going dark at
Trying to write a Christmas list
While I eat my tea.

Don't forget the booze.
Little sis
Old friends and new.

Had Hallowe'en and
Bonfire Night.
There's Last Minute
What's the last posting date
For sending things to Wales?

Need more anti-freeze.
And de-icer please!

Must get the car right
For driving in Snow.
We'll just get the one lot
In January, you know.

Bought a New Tree.
Looks good to me!

House all decorated
With carols to hear.
I'll just about get over it
Ready for Next Year!

Return To Wonderland

The road is dark and gloomy
Dust swirls around my feet as I walk
Oppressive silence, heavy as tombstones
No chirp of birdsong here.
I plod on, knowing this is the right path
Though much time has passed since I last came this way.
The familiar way choked now with weeds
Yet strangely grey and lifeless.
Ahead hangs a blue black cloud, suspended like a ceiling
Obliterating the sun.
Its edge so sharp and clear
As if to say the real sorrow begins now.
Sparks of lightning flash briefly like a quarrel
Between two friends.
At the end of the path, where the cloud starts
Stands a simple wooden gate.
Weatherbeaten and worn by time
Looking proud yet foreboding.
The padlock is corroded with rust
From lashing rain like so many tears.
It is locked fast but I have the key
The question is, dare I use it?

Hands clenched, tightly fisted
Clutched around a tiny golden key whose edges dig into my palm
Knuckles blanched white with pain
And fear.
Curling back my fingers
Revealing the gilt sparkling in the darkness there
Its brightness giving hope to all who view it
An indication of what could be.
Tentatively, I reach forward and insert it into the lock
With fingers slick through sweat I grasp it tightly
And turn.
The tumblers in the lock are heavy, grinding against the delicate key
Fingers slipping, losing their grip
I will not give in.
I will get through.
With one last effort
The key turns and the gate opens.

The weatherbeaten wood is rough under my fingertips
I give the gate a gentle push and watch it swing open
Revealing to me the place I seek
A land of hope and dreams.
A familiar and well-loved place.
Above me, the clouds boil and swirl
Suddenly releasing forth a bolt of lightning
Like a viper attacking its prey
The gate takes the blow and is destroyed
The way forward is blocked, the path is no more
The land of dreams is gone.

I stand on a path leading nowhere
Dust swirls around my feet.
The way ahead is gone, there is no turning back
Before me lies a blackened landscape, all dying and barren
I clench my fists and scream to the sky
But the wind steals the sound from my lips and I feel no release
I fall to my knees
And weep.

The Boy Inside

Everyone has a secret
Something they keep hidden inside
Unless you really get to know them
Or if you can look inside their mind.

See the mother with her baby
She is out every night
Paying babysitters to cover for her
While she's at the local college
Taking classes
Learning - quite simply - how to read and write.

A businessman in his smart suit
With his copy of The Guardian under his arm
But who would ever guess
He moonlights
As a stripper
Gyrating in a g-string for a nameless girl
And he loves it.

Over on the corner stands a plain Jane
No one notices her, no one sees her
She hides behind the safety of anonymity
Yet everyone knows her name
And they wait impatiently
For the next installment of her book to hit the shelves
And the Times Best Seller top spot.

Now cast your gaze upon this girl, study me once again
Such a pretty face and smile
Brimming with apparent confidence in who I am
But take a step back
If you move your head just so and squint
You might be able to see the real me
The boy inside.

Everyone has a secret
Something they keep hidden inside
Unless you really get to know them
Or if you can look inside their mind.

The Rose And The Ivy

You are the rose
Proud and tall you stand
Attracting admiration from all
Standing strong, firmly rooted
Shining brilliant white like a star
Sensuous perfume reaching far afield
Intoxicating those within reach
And calling to those without.

I am the ivy
Climbing over all within my path
Needing the support of another
To grow
Leaving them behind and moving onward
Slowly gaining ground upon you
To cling
Stealthily creeping closer
Subtle movements going undetected
To take
Everything you have and give you nothing
Leaving you behind me on the ground.

Here we are together rose and ivy
I wrap myself around you like a snake
Clutching tightly
An embrace that attracts admiring glances
We look so right together, you and I
Squeezing hard
Burying your beauty in coils of green
Trapping you and cutting off the light
Sapping you of your strength and energy
Devouring you from root to tip.

Beware the ivy creeping ever closer
Veiled delicacy that hides a grasp of steel
Do not let the ivy close to you
A single touch is enough to grab tight hold
Build a wall that reaches high above you
Fortify it well and make it strong
Once the ivy gets you in its clutches
It will drain you of all you have until you're gone

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