Ode of Lovelorn Dave

Ode of Lovelorn Dave

I’ll start this off so your head won’t swim

And have a go at describing him

Dave’s not renowned for muscle or fat

I’ll add a little more then that

You won’t see him with suntanned skin

In fact I’d call him long and thin

We begin this lovelorn tale

With a girl in David’s spell

Who believed her Dave so tall and Brave

And she goes by her name of Mave

Now why should she think him Brave?

Or even he’s the best?

It’s because he bravely wears her name

Tattooed upon his vest

 But this true love match met its end

When Mave ran off with David's friend

She said "our love will stand the test"

His friend took off with David's vest

Well now that winters drawing in

We see Goosebumps on David's skin

It’s not sign he’s growing old

It’s just without his Vest he’s cold

David’s almost over Mavis

And the fact he lost his friend

And the smile he’s wearing on his face

Just shows he's on the mend

On refection Dave admits it ended for the best

And now he’s splashing out the cash

He’s brought a brand new Vest

The Rude Awakening

The Rude Awakening



David's joined the ranks of the insomniacs.
Three nights this week a goodnight sleep is something that he lacks.

In his bed he thrashes like a ferret in a sack.

One minute on his front, the next he's on his back.

his attempts to find comfort, frustrate, he's had enough already.

He thrashed his legs about so much he's even kicked out teddy.

Dave rose from his bed, tired of all the toiling. 

And to the Kitchen bleary eyed he found milk and a pot to boil in. 

He remembered  as a child, hot milk's the best nightcap.

So he thought with this warming brew he’d finally get a nap.

He returned to his chilling bed relieved to feeling drowsy

But when the alarm clock woke him up, he thought it really lousy.

David’s  reaching out, to stop this assault upon his ears.

And from beneath the blankets Dave's head slowly appears.

Trudging to the bathroom he washes sleep out from his eyes.

He’s wondering should he go to work or make up some white lies.

Washing face and neck, he’s refreshed and forced a grin.

He's wrapped up in his towel like the body from Turin.

After these ablutions he dresses with a spurt.

One blue sock needs pulling up while putting on a shirt.

Tripping over teddy, on to his derriere.

He noticed while in flight his socks are not a pair.

Oh I’ve not time for changing even if these socks are clashing.

I’ll put up with the taunts and jibes and the inevitable ear bashing.

Dave heads out into the Morning, in his trusty clapped out Datsun.

That he made look a little smarter by putting somebody cool mats in.

Up hill and dale no traffic swell, for him to get boxed in.

He’s filling up air the Country air with Datsun's smokey toxin.

Well after all that effort you’d think we'd see Dave happy.

But sadly I must convey this Day it only made him snappy.

You see dear friends on his arrival; he found to his dismay

He could have stayed in bed all day... today was Saturday.

Illustrated by BestDrWho  

David's Pain

David’s pain

It isn’t much for me and you 

To make a journey to the loo.

Who’d have thought they’d make a fuss 

When David asked to stop the bus.

With just a few more miles to go

The driver said he would not slow.

If he had thought while at the station

He wouldn’t be in this situation.

As Dave returned to sit again

He crossed his legs to ease his pain.

Beads of sweat ran down his head

He held his breath his face turned red.

He sought to occupy his mind 

But found that nature was unkind.

When the bus stopped in the dark

Dave was first to disembark.

Although he had sat at the back

The need for speed he didn’t lack.

Now David legged it up the lane

Found a loo and smiled again.

But as he left with such relief 

It only added to his grief.

Although the bus had stopped that’s right

It was only for a traffic light.

Illustrated by BestDrWho

One Shot Billy

Hello viewers, this is a poem I wrote in my 20's while on a night shift back in my space and satellite days, with Marconi Space. 

The original was written and illustrated in the nightshift handover book, so David the guy taking over in the early hours would see it..

I made four of these as the nights went on and intended writing a whole series to make a book of poems called The Book of David....

I hope you enjoy this trip to my past.

                                                                 

One shot Billy

 

Illustrated by Paul aka BestDrWho

David’s in his western gear, 
Well at least that’s how it would appear
He has one elbow on his steer,
To rest it while he’s sipping beer
As he walked back in to the bar, some folk Stunned, went quiet

Then one man Speaking for them all, said,“heck he’s on a diet.”
Dave moseyed  up to the bar and tapped the barman’s shoulder.
He was just as thin as Dave but he was slightly older.
“Can I have another drink?" He asked feeling silly.
“What ya want?” the barman asked.
"I’ll have a sarsaparilly."

Drink in hand he spots The Game, and asks, “can I join in?“
One man looked, and answered “yep!" Now poker will begin.

The game went on for minutes and Dave got over heated.
He jumped up in a headstrong rage and said, “That what name cheated!“

“Well that there’s fighting talk." His  opponent  said quite quickly.
David’s face turned green to white, in fact he looked quite sickly.
The people said, “we’ll clear the street, so you can meet at noon."
So one shot Billy said to Dave, “you’ll meet your maker soon.”

At the crack of noon Dave awoke to face his awful fate.
Then sent a note to Billy to say he might be late.

Nervously he walked to town and past the shop called Macy.
Billy stood there dressed in black, and David white and lacy.
They stood there face to face, the sun made shadows long

David felt his bottom squeak, he wasn’t feeling strong 

Dave lurched, went for his guns but Billy was too quick.
Another notch went on his gun, this made it his hat-trick.

“David will you  get up please." Mother shouted from the hall
David  sighed with great relief he must have dreamt it all.

Grateful he was dreaming, of fighting in the west.
He strolled down stairs for breakfast, Mum’s cooking at its best.