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Marriage Is Like My Old Car

“The way I see it, marriage is like my old car.


When I bought it new from the dealership,


everyone around me was saying; “Wow that’s a nice car!”


It was all bright and shiny and worthy of admiration.




And then as the years went by…


there were places where the paint was starting to peel off.


It got a little dent and a scratch or two here and there…


and once it was over a decade old…


People started saying; “Why are you still driving that old thing?”




But my car ran like a top and would never leave me high and dry.


Every time something sounded a little off, or needed attention,


I got to work on it and fixed whatever needed fixing immediately,


knowing that you get what you give.




And then, when she became “a classic”,


it was off to the body shop she went for a new paint job.


People once again began saying; “Wow, that’s a really nice car!”


But what they didn’t know was that all the things that really matter,


were always things that nobody could see from the outside.




A marriage is like my old car.


It’s the maintenance you do between the high of the wedding day,


and gaining the admiration your grandchildren


by being the couple who still laughs and shares secrets,


and still holds hands after all these years.




So don’t worry so much about what people think or say.


Just do your oil changes, keep up with your maintenance,


get out and have fun,


don’t be afraid to blow the dust off now and then,


and fix whatever breaks as soon as it happens.




This is my advice for a marriage


that will motor successfully on down the highway of life.”

One Cigarette

One Cigarette

No smoke without you, my fire.

After you left,

your cigarette glowed on in my ashtray

and sent up a long thread of such quiet grey

I smiled to wonder who would believe its signal

of so much love.


One cigarette

in the non-smoker's tray.

As the last spire

trembles up, a sudden draught

blows it winding into my face.

Is it smell, is it taste?

You are here again, and I am drunk on your tobacco lips.

Out with the light.

Let the smoke lie back in the dark.

Till I hear the very ash

sigh down among the flowers of brass

I'll breathe, and long past midnight, your last kiss.

You Are The Bubbles

Together, you are

the bubbles in one another’s champagne,

the morning sun through the window,

the breaking of a smile.

Together, you are

the one doughnut in the bag with more jam than any of the others,

that photo where everyone looks great,

the know-it-all-sing-out-of-tune-at-the-top-of-your-voice

chorus of a favourite song.

Together you are

the beginnings of a big idea,

the twinkly bits that hang in the sky after the firework goes bang,

the cold thin air at the top of a mountain,

the only two people in a crowded room.

Together you are

that unforgettable day of a holiday,

an accidental adventure, a chocolate chip,

pages ninety-eight to ninety-nine of a well-thumbed Mills & Boon,

a bbq with friends, the spray of the sea,

the nose of the cheese,

a hug, a kiss, a hold-my-hand,

a decision which, looking back, will seem to be

the most excellent you ever made.

Together you are


the unburstable bubbles of the very best things in life,

the only things any of us ever need.

Get Married, Get Married

Some of us are cynics

And then the penny drops and we get it

We become like evangelists

Get Married, Get Married, It’s bloody marvellous

You know,

It’s not what you think it is.

You won’t own him

He won’t own you

You’ll hold hands in this sea that you’ve created.

A sea of friends and foes and families. Places you’ve been and places

you imagine you might be.

You’ll hold hands and the waves will push you very close sometimes, so

you’re pretty much one person. Thinking and feeling the same way.

And sometimes the waves will pull you apart until you have to crane

your necks to see each other. Just let one drop of forgiveness or good

humour change the tide and you’ll be even closer than before.

It changes. Every day it changes.

Einstein said “Women marry men hoping they will change and men

marry women hoping they will not. So each is inevitably disappointed”Well I hope you revel in the changes you bring about in each other.

I hope you treasure each others eccentricities and embrace all the

weirdness and wonder of each others humanity.

I hope you fight, I am sure you will, it shows great passion to hold a point of view even when you start to doubt it.

I hope you argue, it’s almost inevitable, but make up and do it before

you turn out the lights, then breakfast will taste better.

I hope you dream and that often your dreams collide and they take you

to far away and wonderful places.

And I hope you love and that the love you have for each other pushes

out into the world around you. To your friends and to your foes and to

your families.


Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.

It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.

It promises light

like the careful undressing of love.


It will blind you with tears

like a lover.

It will make your reflection

a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.

Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,

possessive and faithful

as we are,

for as long as we are.

Take it.

Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,

if you like.


Its scent will cling to your fingers,

cling to your knife

The Art Of A Good Marriage

A good marriage must be created.

In the marriage, the little things are the big things…

It is never being too old to hold hands.

It is remembering to say “I love you” at least once each day.

It is never going to sleep angry.

It is having a mutual sense of value and common objectives.

It is standing together and facing the world.

It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.

It is speaking words of appreciation and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.

It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.

It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.

It is a common search for the good and the beautiful. 

It is not only marrying the right person, it is being the right partner

A History Of Love

Love.  What a small word we use for an idea so immense and powerful it has altered the flow of history, calmed monsters, kindled works of art, cheered the forlorn, turned tough guys to mush, fuelled national scandals, bankrupted mafia barons and made mincemeat of kings.  


How can love’s spaciousness be conveyed in the narrow confines of one syllable?  Love is an ancient delirium, a desire older than civilization, with taproots stretching deep into dark and mysterious days…


The heart is a living museum.  In each of its galleries, no matter how narrow or dimly lit, preserved forever like wondrous diatoms, are our moments of loving and being liked.


The need to surrender is one of the great paradoxes of love. Surrender may seem like giving up or giving in. In reality we are strengthened when we actively choose to make ourselves vulnerable. We are empowered by sharing our deepest self with another person, offering him or her our heart, our soul, our life. Surrender is an act of free will, a sacred trust.

All I Ever Really Needed To Know About Love I Learned In Kindergarten

All of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and how to be, I learned in Kindergarten. Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sandbox at nursery school.

These are the things I learned…

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don't hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don't take things that aren't yours.

Say sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.


Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Give them to someone who feels sad.

Live a balanced life.

Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day.

Take a nap every afternoon.

Be aware of wonder.

Remember the little seed in the plastic cup? The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.


Everything you need to know is in there somewhere.

And it is still true, no matter how old you are, when you go out into the world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

Have You Got A Biro I Can Borrow?

Have you got a biro I can borrow?

I’d like to write your name

On the palm of my hand, on the walls of the hall

The roof of the house, right across the land

So when the sun comes up tomorrow

It’ll look to this side of the hard-bitten planet

Like a big yellow button with your name written on it

Have you got a biro I can borrow?

I’d like to write some lines

In praise of your knee, and the back of your neck

And the double-decker bus that brings you to me

So when the sun comes up tomorrow

It’ll shine on a world made richer by a sonnet

And a half-dozen epics as long as the Aeneid

Oh give me a pen and some paper

Give me a chisel or a camera

A piano and a box of rubber bands

I need room for choreography

And a darkroom for photography

Tie the brush into my hands

Have you got a biro I can borrow?

I’d like to write your name

From the belt of Orion to the share of the Plough

The snout of the Bear to the belly of the Lion

So when the sun goes down tomorrow

There’ll never be a minute

Not a moment of the night that hasn’t got you in it


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