The Poetry of Ann Margetson

I was talking to my daughter on the telephone today,
She said something funny, it gave me a smile anyway,
She said that her hurting foot was a pain in the neck,
I said I thought it was funny, but she was rather a wreck.
I am normally very empathetic and always show my concern
But surely this comment a little humour should earn.
Anyway cruel judgement this afternoon came swiftly my way
I knocked my funny bone and the door and needless to say,
That was a pain in the neck, and I really must admit outright
Then I laughed at that humour , but told no one of my plight.

So when you hurt somewhere and a pain in the neck it seems,
Smile at how funny it sounds and then in your sweetest dreams
Think of other funny saying that can take some hurt away
And maybe you can wipe with a laugh all your hurts away.

M Ann Margetson April 17, 2010

pain

Off I went on the train down south for a few days
And at this time of year there is very little dirty haze
The sky was blue the air was warm and quite clean
A picture of big city beauty to be plainly seen.

We went to Niagara Falls and walked and gazed it awe
At the picturesque beauty and even snowdrops we saw,
I will not mention the traffic jam for many a long mile
But just remember the fun time with a great big smile.

Many large malls I wandered and shopped all around
Something deprived of for in the far north none are found
Visited graveyards where some family relatives lie at rest,
Went to the McMichael art gallery one of the very best.

But the very best of all I mingled with my sweet family,
Doing things together sharing things in joy and harmony,
But it is good to be home again in the north so dear
And have the rest of my family once again right here.

M Ann Margetson
Copyright March 23 2010

As mother of the groom a corsage was placed on me.
Cream carnations with red babies breath for all to see.
I felt so happy wearing it, I wished Brian could be there
Just holding hands, this wonderful moment to share

As Rita and Phil were married, such a great day.
The bride and groom glowed in a very special way.
That night I took off my corsage it had truly been
A sweet part of me all through that special scene,

Should I dry it and preserve that special memory,
Or should I place it on my loved ones grave so he
Could share that feeling in those sweet flowers,
And may it be refreshed by heaven’s gentle showers.

Next day a visit to the grave we made, to say “hello”
And the corsage on the stone a little colour did show.
We felt him close beside us and he seemed to say
Thank you, for I was with you there yesterday

M Ann Margetson
Copyright Nov 1 2010

The streets were close and crowded, little light came in,
For the windows were small, though the drapes were thin.
An old man sat amidst the clutter that lay all around,
There was hardly a place to put your feet upon the ground.

Curios from around the world and gifts of every kind,
From silver topped riding whips to strange toys that wind,
Brasses that needed cleaning, books yellowed and old,
And there on a velvet pillow, a broach of rubies and gold.

“How much for the broach?” I asked, not seeing a tag,
“And the price of that china doll carrying her little bag.”
The old man smiled, his face broke into a thousand lines,
And his eyes sparkled like diamonds deep within dark mines.

“Be they for you, this doll and broach?” he then asked me,
“The doll is for a child, the broach for my mother, you see
She had one just like that and was lost many years ago,
My child has begged for a doll that pretty, I can pay you know.”

He reached for the china doll with his old clutching hand,
It was so pretty, perfect in every way, hair like white sand,
Cheeks with a gentle blush and eyes that looked quite real,
The dress was of red satin and had a wonderful soft feel.

The broach was very old, but still caught the light,
Even in that dismal, dull room it shone extra bright,
He placed it in my hand, and looked me in my eyes,
“This belongs to you and is a great and valued prize.”

He wrapped them up carefully and I went to pay,
“Just a few coins for the doll and be on your way.”
I paid in disbelief, he shook my hand and blessed me,
Sent me on my way, with a happy heart that set me free.

I almost skipped along the road that led me back home,
I took out my treasures and explained where I did roam,
We searched the streets together, my husband and I,
But that olde curiosity shop neither of us could spy.

My mother recognized her broach and cried a happy tear,
She had lost it years ago, thought it gone, but now to appear
Was like a miracle, she held it in her hands in a special way,
As she remembered the gift given her on her wedding day.

Other people have wandered and found that secret street
Where the olde curiosity shop stood, someone to greet
Who may have lost a treasure or seek a special gift,
And there inside with be the old man to bless and lift.

M. Ann Margetson
© December 31, 2000
2000/1063Olde

Many hours he spends at the computer
sorting out my poems you see.
Shrinking them down to eight font
so four to a page there be.
Every poem will be included
he is going it just for me
Making one large book of poems
to give to our posterity.

Also when this great task is done
there’s another task ahead,
The index under different headings
so things can be easily found instead
Of spending ages just looking,
you can find what you want right away,
Oh how much it shows he loves
and cares for me in a very special way.

One day the task will be completed
for no more poems will come,
Then he’ll know this, his great
work, a labour of love is done.
Then we will take them and a book
of my works made with care,
Because of the work and love taken
By a husband who is always there.

M. Ann Margetson
© October 16, 2000
2000/alabour

It is at this time of year when the kitchen is rarely clean,
For fruit and vegies are in plentiful supply and have been
Just picked and fresh, so now is the time for jars of jam,
And a hundred and one other things you can freeze and can.

The other week it was apricots and plums bright and red,
Along with the blueberry jam, hardly time for us to be fed,
Then came tomatoes and beets, beans and apples by the ton,
What a mess the kitchen is with all the work to be done..

But when winter comes and everywhere is chilly and cold,
You can produce a meal for nothing, glorious to behold,
Then it is worth the effort and all the sticky mess around
It’s worth the meals that are late, or eat what can be found.

I love the time of year when all this bounty comes,
It lasts from early strawberries to the last of the plums,
Baby carrots so sweet, long flat beans a real fall treat,
And at the farmers market, all the old friends that you meet.

M. Ann Margetson
© September 18, 2000
2000/Amessy

Many years ago, when my youngest was quite small,
Thinks were hard, very little spare money at all,
But shopping at a rummage sale, it caught my eye,
For two shillings and sixpence, I had the money to buy.

It was an antique, I could tell at one single glance,
Made of thick earthenware, mine by pure chance,
It held enough to made a quadruple batch of bread,
Or a dozen pies if family and friends were to be fed.

Then at Christmas, oh, the puddings we would make
With everyone helping, it dropped, but did not break,
Now all the children want it when we have passed away,
For it’s now part of the family used almost every day.

I sometimes wonder, when I make bread or a cake,
Who owned it before we did, what reason did it take
To sell or give this mixing bowl, for I could not let it go,
For many happy memories linger and we all love it so.

It does not look pretty or nice, but practical as can be,
Outside, coloured rusty brown, inside cream you’ll see,
But there are no chips just the odd mark or two
But all who see it, love it, through and through.

We, like the mixing bowl, need not be pretty to see,
But it’s the way we work and to be useful, you see
That makes us truly precious to our God above.
So be like the mixing bowl, worthy of His love.

M. Ann Margetson
© September 17, 2000
2000/Mylarge

“Please love me,” meowed the kitten who sat on death row,
“I’ll be good, I promise,” His bright green eyes did glow,
But hope was slowly fading for our cute furry friend,
Tomorrow would bring his short life to an drastic end.

“May I have that kitten please, that’s all I really need
For my birthday.” The voice of a young child did plead,
The parents sighed, but softened, gave a nod and a smile,
Oh, how the kitten purred his thanks, then slept for awhile.

He grew to be a good pet and companion and friend,
Brought them laughter as into each heart he did wend,
Many tears were shed when his life was at last done,
They never regretted the moment their heart he won.

So if you see some creatures sitting in the pound,
Try and take one home and a fine companion will be found,
Be kind and show love even make them part of the family,
And you will have joy and laughter, be as happy as can be.

M. Ann Margetson
© September 9, 2000
2000/pleasetakeme

Soon they will be coming, all of them today,
Helping with a project, each in their own way,
But it is being together as a family that is best,
It binds us all together, as we work, play and rest.

It will not matter if the sun does not shine bright,
But we hope it will not rain with all its might,
For the house is being shingled with sweet wood,
Cedar so fragrant, they once mighty trees stood.

It will be fun doing things, working all together,
The grandchildren will play in all sorts of weather,
As the rest divide the tasks, so many things to do,
Hammering, passing, minding the baby tying a shoe,
Preparing a meal, passing round drinks and a snack
Passing a towel to wipe sweat off the face, hands and back.

Whatever we do, whether we work, rest, cook or play
The thing we’ll remember that we were together today,
A family bonding, preparing for our eternal home,
Remembering today wherever we may roam.

M. Ann Margetson
© September 4, 2000
2000/Afunfamily

There is something kind of special in a slice of home made pie,
Baked by loving hands to fill the tummy and please the eye,
You can eat it plain or with warm custard or ice cream,
When away from home it becomes a constant dream.

Apple pie is so very good, cherry and blueberry as well,
The one you are eating now, is your favourite I can tell.
But the one my family treasures above all the others,
Not only husband and children, but sisters and brothers.

Is the one made with the leftover fruit, a pure delight,
For with the mix of flavours, it’s different at every bite,
You don’t know what will come next in your pie,
Peach, plum, apricot, or apple, you hear the cry.

So surprise pie we call it, this desert you have to try,
Made with love in the home, one you cannot buy,
Made by hands that care, a pie for the family
The filling will not matter, ‘twas made for you by me.

M. Ann Margetson
© August 27, 2000
2000/Asliceof