He met her on the corner In a street by his Town a girl of no substance a face with a frown. He tried to get her attention she ignored his every word he didn't want to give up Looking feeble and absurd. Day by day he stopped sometimes for a glance going out of his way at times Hoping to meet per chance. Her very being enthralled him never wanting anything more determined to never give up to even up the score. But still she always denied him she wanted to be left in peace the surrounding mystery deepened a jigsaw with a remaining piece. One day he walked right by her tried staring into space her eyes were like caverns deep black with no disgrace The day had finally arrived she vanished without a trace was she in his imagination? this girl without a face.
Writings
My Poetry. Negativity breeds Contempt.
We go through life day by day hoping it gets better Along the way. Meet new friends who say hello making the World turn In its ebbs and flow. But some are cruel poisoned by hate making life hell They self create. They can bring you down be negative, create hate Make your life miserable Drive you irate. For those we must lose go our own way think for yourself Have your own say. Better to be alone get on with life grow day by day Then die by the knife. Jealousy lives in this uncertain age its human nature Governed by rage. From when time began hate was born human nature shattered Ripped and torn. Be who you are don't copy the sad it's better to be nice Then to live like the bad.
My Poetry. Man Bag.
you’re substantial in my life
feel naked when your not around me
you’re as close as my dear wife.
I fill you with lots of goodies
trapped in darkness for hours
you keep my bananas tip-top
And protect my lunch from showers.
My man bag is such a treasure
I take good care of it
careful what I put inside you
And not fill you with sӣ$t.
As the deodorant rattles with pleasure
the pens all jump for joy
you can only go with a man to work
Not a girl or a little boy.
I hope you last forever
into my golden age
and if anyone decides to steal you
I will blow up in a rage.
My Poetry. The Migraine.
Silence in the room
is what you require
your head is spinning
You start to perspire.
Alone in the dark
the pain is immense
nothing is helping
To hell with expense.
Feeling sick
you cannot relax
round and round in circles
Migraine at its max.
Certain foods you eat
can make it worse
this horror in your body
A satanic curse.
You cannot see anyone
you need to be secluded
the slightest noise
Terrifies the alluded.
Eventually the pain
starts to depreciate
you can face the light
From the window grate.
You can cope with pain
but migraines bring you down
you cannot do anything
Expecting to drown.
My Poetry. A lonely Flower.
How did this beautiful flower grow? Among-st the bracken and thickened snow pert and proud on barren land Amazed how such a miracle stands. All alone a singular treat void of emotion, treacherous feet carried by songbirds from a warmer clime Ignorant of wastage and sealed by its prime. Glowing so colourful sweet smell of perfume avoiding the vases of humanities front room grow old my flower be erect and assured Carry the torch of environments cured. Warm up my life and make me alive bloom for eternity, germinate, survive seed for the pleasure and love that you give Grow for the goodness and promise me “live”.
My Poetry. Animal Life.
Ever wondered what it’s like trying to SURVIVE
animals have that right so let’s keep them ALIVE
let them escape people who hunt for fun
Struggling to know when and if they shoot the gun.
Asking to be spared without having a voice
pleading with intelligence who really have a choice
wishing to be spared to roam and freely live
But the question on my lips is, DO ANIMALS FORGIVE?
We kill them for their meat needing to survive
How dare we think animals have a right to be alive!
I wonder if they think out loud “we do not hunt for man”
But maybe in the future that might be their plan.
They hunt amongst themselves they have to kill to eat
only cos they have to not because of a treat
getting pleasure killing animals is pitiful, and sad
We teach our children daily that animals ain’t bad.
God made this earth for all life to live hand in hand
I don’t think he realised what man had secretly planned!
We need to live beside the animals we love
From elephants to tigers and flying turtle-doves.
To hunt animals for profit is tragic and a waste
It’s bad enough murdering them for palates of human tastes
When we see there’s nothing left will we be content?
Or will we seek out other life to help the sporty gent?
Kill animals for food as we need to survive
But for pleasure and profit KEEP THEM ALIVE.
My Poetry. A Woman s work is Never done!
Up at 6 another day comes time to get the kids up for school breakfast is always a chaotic time All for one, sometimes the rule. Toast for Johnny, cereal for Sue While dad shouts "where's my phone"? Tammy the cat mewing at my feet The kids all grump and groan?. Sue shouts aloud, cereal has spilled the dog licks his lips in delight Johnny complains, no lunch prepared Johnny Kicks Sue with spite. Get the kids dressed, iron a shirt turn the dishwasher on hubby groaning in the background at it from dusk till dawn. Breakfast is over, time to go dad drops the kids at school little Joan sits with her empty bowl at least one of them is full. Joan at nursery time for my chores the vacuum is ready to go dusting around the numerous bits and bobs Forgot to wash the baby grow. Shopping to do, clothes to prepare the maintenance man is due sitting at home. freezing to death its a wonder I don't have the flu. The boiler packed in, no heat or water The usual drama of the day I wonder how much it will cost this time it ill probably come out of my pay. Just as I think I am finished for now its nearly that time again collect the kids from school and nursery and plenty to do after then. Grab a coffee read a mag then hang the laundry out prepare the dinner feed the cat that's what its all about. By the time I settle its bedtime I am dreaming of peace in my life but who would have it any other way its the chores of a Mother and wife.
My Poetry. Weekend Dad..
day by day
the sound of your voice
And what you say.
We sensed things were different
lately, there’s no smile
your words full of poison
Nasty and vile.
Still, you stay
while living apart
anger in your sleep
Fast beating heart.
Despite this we love you
the best dad around
your life complicated
Unbalanced unsound.
We sit at the table
not a sound can be heard
we look at the walls
Feeling absurd.
Why do you both live
In pain and strife?
Once a happy couple
Husband and Wife.
Our school life suffers
too tired to study
drained, uninterested
Dirty and muddy.
Now when we wake
you are not here
The house is silent
Frighteningly clear.
No calls or letters?
To make our day
Why blame us?
Is what we say.
Are you happy Dad?
We need you to call
we want to see you
Desperately is all.
Now you are called
our weekend Dad
life is unfair
Mum has a new lad!
We go to the movies
play games in the park
we are all together
But there ain’t no spark.
Mum has a smile
seems happy again
sleeps more soundly
Not like back then.
We see you both separately
its better than before
it took many years
When you walked out the door.
Now we are grown
we now understand
you did the right thing
And life is now grand.
You with your life
mum on a high
everyone smiling
Life going by.
My Poetry. Never given a Chance!
The door was never opened slammed shut in every place he wanted to work badly To spare him from disgrace. All his friends were working but still couldn't find a job OK, they had qualifications He was taunted and called a slob. Incapable of learning at school no diagnosis could be found back then it was never recognised The difficulties would astound. Poor teaching and ignorance was to blame for all his plight people were ignorant It wouldn't happen overnight. No one knew Dyslexia he didn't even understand it himself chastised by his parents Scared to be left on the shelf. Suffering through ignorance his life would be wasted away no one understood this boy Or what he had to say. In this age of recognition kids can get help at the start so do not suffer in silence Or think you are torn apart. Employers need to be compliant some people learn at a slow pace with training and support They will welcome and embrace. Discrimination is against the Law even though, there are loopholes Employers can do as they please To fill their experienced roles. The rights of many are scrutinized in an age of impatience and hurry no one has any time these days Hence, understanding is blurry.
My Poetry. Having a Bad Day.
you have a good moan
you feel all you do
Is grump and groan.
When you awake each day
You’re not quite yourself
had a bad night
Impeding your health.
As the day goes on
you hope you will find
you will become cheery
It’s all in the mind.
But right at the moment
you’re
lookout everyone
Bother me if you dare.
Things get your goat
all through the day
nothing motivates you
Keep out of the way.
Later on
you see some light
you’re passive and relaxed
Don’t want to fight.
Its called Human emotion
sometimes you smile
when you think back earlier
When your mood was vile.
Back to being motivated
at last, I have changed
back to the sunshine
No more enraged.
So when you’re
count to ten
keep your cool
unlike back then
Ending the day
in a positive mood
fight the blues
Try to be good.
Smile and grit
your teeth and grin
have a good moan
Take it on the chin.
My Poetry. Technology, Good or Bad?
Things were simple yesterday
children played outside then
And had fun in their own little way.
Adults would communicate
at the dinner table each night
televisions a pipe dream
Kids would play fight.
People would play cards
smoke filled the air
no sight of a PC
Corners looked bare.
The days of writing a letter
has vanished without a trace
people were very creative
spoke face to face.
Now we have email
or sending someone a text
no more writing paper
Old-fashioned in context.
Kids glued to game stations
no creativity in this age
brains fried, becoming a recluse
Constantly in a rage.
Knees bearing laptops
nothing else exists
imprisoned by technology
Typing long boring lists.
No conversation no” how was your day”
all caught in an unreal dimension
electricity meters running at a fast pace
Beyond anyone’s apprehension.
What happened to the days when Families
Played board games or got some fresh air?
Fast foods and the internet
Caused this realistic nightmare.
Technology has killed the old-fashioned ways
nothing left except microchips
tapping away on the pc or phone
Without even moving your lips.
My Poetry. Growing old Gracefully.
You remember when you were a lad things you did were brave swinging from the highest tree Six inches from your grave. Back then you could run, fast play ball forever and a day sleep would come when it had to Your hair was natural, not Gray. They say the new fifty is forty in this new millennium but sometimes it doesn't work that way You're not at your premium. Your bones creak, your neck gets sore bending down is sometimes a task you try your best to live younger While reaching for the oxygen mask! To be healthy you need to be careful you may deal yourself a blow like cutting the old nails On your unreachable big toe. When you shower and glance at your figure it's not as it used to be the muscles are getting flimsy And you struggle to properly see. Some people grow old gracefully just accept it as it comes growing old isn't necessarily a draw back Or receding mouth gums. But when it comes to memory things you can recall are quite clear the good things that happened in your life You will always hold so dear..
My Poetry. Nothing in the end.
Viewing the World through a microscope at times, you don't like what you see unbalanced, unfair, shameful Determines how it must be. It depends on where you came from to determine life's fate being born into hardship is sometimes what you hate. Some are born into grandeur poverty they will never know wealth through the blood Lots of dough. Happiness doesn't mean riches if your satisfied with your lot just think of the homeless In case you forgot. Money doesn't buy health or can make you live forever we will all die one day Whether, rich, poor, or clever. Just be who you are live your life in peace don't worry about tomorrow Or when life will cease. We are all governed by time and one day it will run out there are no pockets in a shroud Or a voice, to scream or shout.
My Poetry. The stalker.
He hides behind the bushes spying on his latest prey who knows why he does it No one can say. A mind so torn with infatuation scared he will be caught remaining in his camouflage to which his mind has brought. For weeks, he has been watching? His stalking out of control insecurities blind him dodging the odd Police patrol Innocent distractions fixated by his actions Will he ever let her know? He fears for her reaction. Eventually she notices him glancing from the trees Who is he why is he here? She starts to feel the sleaze. In the morning she opens the window blinds to face a brand-new day when she closes them again at night He will not go away. In his mind this is innocent as he confronts her wanting to speak I wonder if she will think bad of me Will she think I'm a freak! But alas the fear grows fiercer he cannot find a way instead, he looms in the shadows at night And continues in the day. The stalking over takes him he cannot live his life he wants this girl so badly Will she be my wife? His stalking days are numbered as the Police close in on his trail and once more is arrested And held without any bail.
My Poetry. God bless single Mums.
A mum to three young kids no support, working alone there isn't enough days and hours no time for a good old moan. A young girl herself when she had her first child a shy quiet girl not known for being wild. Innocence lost at thirteen not contented with just a kiss passion overtook her responsibility a miss. She was lucky having her mum either in person or on the phone inexperienced she would call her but the seeds were already sown. Deserted by the Father as soon as he found out he disappeared out of sight she had to go "without" Jessica loved her kids and tried her level best a single mum on benefits every turn a means test. No partner in her life she struggled every day but that was her life from now on and it was here to stay. She reflected on her life dreaming of what could have been but she wouldn't change her lifestyle or the fathers the kids never seen. She looked at her kids in pride as they grew up happy and content It was hard hard work at the beginning but for her they were all heaven sent.
My Poetry. Sun shine days.
After a long cold winter it's nice to see the sun in its glory It makes you feel free. The heat is better plants starts to grow we all go crazy To the garden centre we go. The barbies are fizzling the aroma is cool moistened mouths Makes you drool. t shirts and shorts with the odd Jesus sandals wearing your socks Facing the scandals. Semi clad folks burning under the sun screaming and shouting All having fun. Tots with sun hats protected from rays splashing in pools By the heat of the days. Dogs puffing and panting the heat is their pest jumping in lakes Trying their best. Three days of sunshine not a cloud in sight a wonderful summer Glorious and bright. Who needs abroad when we have weather like this save all your money enjoy the bliss. The question on our lips Is will it last? It makes people happy We all have a blast.
My Poetry. The Ice cream van.
Jingles heard from afar as he drives into our street a magical vehicle on four wheels Racing to give us a treat. Ice cream so delicious and change to buy a sweet those days were so spectacular nothing could you beat. Shouting up to mum to get a couple of pence the din was overpowering even standing on the fence. The World was your oyster as you chose your fav ice cream this little van of wonders Was a child's lasting dream. Sometimes we would have enough to buy a sweet or two contented and happy those days And your mates were happy too. He came around our street twenty times a day but your parents were very dubious To give their money away. Money was tighter then but the luxuries were sometimes had it stretched a little further Even got money from your dad! The jingle could be heard for miles as you ran to greet the man with treasures over spilling From the little musical van.
My Poetry. Driving with care.
your mind is always alert
things can happen suddenly
You have to be an expert.
Animals or kids
can pop out from anywhere
no matter how fast you’re going
Always take good care.
Still, the road is mundane
wary to change your disc
a female driver putting on makeup
Not caring about the risk.
Watch carefully in your mirror
be patient with other cruisers
people who have road rage
Are mostly all-around losers.
Dangerous driving can kill
Because you don’t concentrate!
Better being safe than sorry
Before it is too late.
Keep your speed to a minimum
when nearing any schools
children come out excited
They don’t care about the rules.
For some driving is a living
but for many, it’s a to b
stick to the highway code
It’s there for all to see.
At the end of the day
you in a “killing” machine
but with careful, safe driving
You will always be seen.
My Poetry Charity clarity.
Bric a brac shoes and clothes dishes ornaments or mags things you have you do not want Even old used rags. Charities put bags through your door and you fill them every week but still the bags lie for ages Grow mouldy and they reek. We do not take this item sorry we don't want those I am sure the needy everywhere Their life they had not chose. I want to make money but do not want certain things like that old standard lamp Or the ornament of the lady who sings. So what is the point of me? Am I here to help the needy I will pick and choose what I want Because I am so greedy. So take your well-used items and throw them in the dump now I am wondering why this country is facing a financial slump.
My Poetry. Raindrops the only sound.
The only thing I hear are raindrops on the glass the forefront in my mind Is the pain which I amass. Deep as it cuts, it never mends it casts more doubt in my heart solitude is a thing I could never face So much as we now part. I close my eyes and you appear your always in my heart The days are nights the nights are day I don't know where to start. and still, silence fills the air With only the sound of rain. When I reach out to you in the night Emptiness fills me with pain. Be happy in your new life where sunshine fills your day text me when I'm alone Make my sunny day Gray. Desperation fills my body as I kneel upon the ground whilst silence fills the air around Raindrops are the only sound.
My Poetry. Culinary magic.
I am in awe at how you look well prepared from a marvellous cook. A plate thats like a piece of art who would believe this tasty start. The aroma deliciously real the best food today by far plates empty and ready for more it deserves a culinary star. The starter was a dream come true beautiful to the eye ,a treat My eyes are in love with you your golden colour is sweet. The steak was beautifully done it melted in each new bite the potatoes were roasted perfectly the vegetables just right. And now for the final course a plethora of fruit and cheese yes I will have some more try to stop me PLEASE. My stomach feels relieved content with an awsome meal an artist would have been proud of it It really was unreal.
My Poetry. Colour me in.
In a World of utter contempt the limelight is stolen once more what is happening on this planet Open your mind and let it explore. Hatred still has a major part I suppose they are a minority goodness finds a way to defeat And duly take priority. What difference does any of this make why do people act this way time and time it happens too much Each day. Colour, sex, or creed religion or politics discussed who really cares about the bureaucracy Is important or a must? Be brave, embrace everyone no matter their sexual choice and so what if they are coloured Everyone has a voice. We grow tired of bigots and racists in this millennium, give it a rest more important things to worry about Going through life is a test. So welcome everyone as a friend show this awesome World you care no matter the colour or religion Let them live and always be fair.
My Poetry. Day by Day.
When you smile people smile with you when your sad The World will be blue. Try to be kind to each other And you can only feel cool. Be a pain in the ass Don't follow the rule. It doesn't cost much To say hello. Smile at one another let the love easily flow Be positive in every way and your time will be pure be down and negative And it's hard to cure. If you like singing, sing aloud echo your voice up to the sky harmonize loudly with the melody And your voice will surely fly. End your day with a smile recall your day in your mind close your eyes and sleep Because today you were kind .
BE NICE. IT ALWAYS PAYS
My Poetry. Traffic jams.
Late again what will I do? Traffic held up another long queue a glance at your watch nerves uptight engine overheating Something not right. The car Crawling slowly legs stiff and sore radio blaring In and out of the door. Clutch up clutch down brake foot numb shouting and screaming No nails on their thumb. stop-start stop-start Will it ever end? Wondering how long The queue will extend. Cyclists passing cars smiling on their way extending happy greetings "Have a lovely day" Anger on faces swearing under your breath tooting horns in madness A fate worse than death. Chance of repeating this tomorrow my nerves won't take the strain another way I have to go in fact, I'll take the train. Here at work, late again the office stands at ease the boss looks over his glasses "come to my office Please" trying to explain is hopeless as usual, it falls on deaf ears Traffic jams are unnerving.
My Poetry. Dangerous acts.
The atmosphere intense
you need eyes at the back of your head,
take your eyes off the ball
And you are sure to be dead.
Women’s covered faces
expressionless and cold
tears running from their eyes
Females are young and old.
Terror covers the streets
young men on rusted bikes
not knowing who to trust
Dodging all the spikes..
Bombs going off in faraway streets
screams can be heard for miles
camouflaged by smoky fields
Bodies lying in piles.
Our unit sheltering from terrorists
everyone is always on edge
a man grasps on a towering building
Then falls quickly from the ledge.
Fires set everywhere, smoke is thick
a place that never sees the light
touring for many Years
Daily you have to fight.
Hospitals are full of wounded people
medicine is desperately low
doctors covered in blood and sinew
Nurses running to and fro.
Bodies piled up ready to burn
It’s a nightmare will anyone waken?
Children wounded as young as five
Scared, tired, forsaken..
The fight for freedom goes on
and always the innocent suffer
armies will always give chase
and be used when they need a buffer.
My Poetry. Have you ever.
Have you ever wondered how You could survive without your friends? Let them know almost every day That to you, they may depend. Have you ever sent them flowers with a message "you are adored" Or even told your closest friends Without them, you'd be bored? Have you ever saw a rainbow And imagined a pot of gold? Made a wish with a shiny coin Make money tenfold?. Have you ever had a feeling That something could always go wrong? or wondered why Samson Could ever be that strong? Have you ever loved a person or argued with whom you choose or wanted something badly Like a fortnight relaxing cruise? Have you ever noticed the poor old man With his shabby dirty clothes? Or ever wondered why Rudolph Has a bright red nose? Have you ever chose a meal for the night Or decided to take away? Have you ever got the kids to bed To enjoy the rest of your day? Have you ever decided on the menu For the TV late at night? Maybe watch your favourite soap Or settle for the fight. Have you ever wondered how We can fill in our quiet day? Listened to all objectives Of what people have to say? Have you ever wondered when This poem will ever end? Maybe now or maybe never You will read it coz you're my friend.
My Poetry. Come dine with me.
tears flow from my eyes
losing you was criminal
But hardly a surprise.
I met you many years ago
you were always in my life
in every dish, I chose to cook
By me and the wife.
I peeled your outer shell
to feel your slippery skin
but you slipped between my fingers
Then fell into the bin!
Shredded in my Pot
your aroma filled the air
the smell was so delicious
colours light and fair.
When I attempted to eat you
horror entered my mind
I couldn’t eat this onion
the one that made me blind.
My Poetry. Unspoilt land.
Mountains tall, rivers flow, Tall Trees proud, colours aglow, Whistling birds, melodic in tune, High banked sand, in the shape of a dune. Waterfalls pure, sweet-smelling air, Animals living, without being scared, Sounds of nature in its own domain, Growth so thick, lots of rain. Fish a plentiful, in rivers of gold, will never be caught or ending up-sold, The unspoilt land, can it be true? Where the grass is so green, and skies are blue. The only sound alive is life at peace days very long a slow-release nature at rest and left alone No exhausts or a telephone. Fruit-bearing trees tall and proud Enough to eat if you're allowed! no taxes, laws, just animal rules Were nothing matters, undisturbed pools. No fear of loss in its very slow pace miles away from the old rat race wake up in the morning to fresh cool air Living off the land and all it can spare. Tall green grass no need for mowing viewing for miles the sun is glowing wildflowers growing carpeted throughout Even if it's arid, or a lengthy drought. Visited by the few, unspoilt land left to its vices mountains grand a dot on the map, no one insight Purely magical an ocular delight.
My Poetry. Galaxy.
A pilot on an endless flight Is amazed by the wonderous light gathering momentum as his aeroplane glides Watching the flow of the ebbing tides. Conquering space in a moment of glory telling his children endless stories were he not to be in outer space We would surely know by his contemptuous face. Searching for life in another dimension tossing aside all his worldly tensions engulfing the magic of natural light Recording the memories of a wondrous sight. Dream on Pilot your time is here conquer your dreams cap all those fears a melody arose in a heavenly tune Tinkling stars and a blinding moon. Closer and closer your destiny veers a man and his mission engulfed by his tears his dreams now are realized how could he forget That mystical moment he lovingly met.
My Poetry. I forgive you.
When you forget to call my name
I forgive you
when you don't put out the trash
I forgive you.
When you argue night is day
I forgive you
when you fail to come collect me
I forgive you.
When you use all the hot water
I forgive you
When you use the last of the milk
I forgive you.
When you fail to kiss me goodbye
I forgive you.
But for the pain you left inside
I will never forgive you.
My Poetry. A Mothers fear.
An old woman cried all through the night, For she lost four sons in a bloody fight, Their voices still heard, in a distant past, Born so quickly, and died so fast. Fought for freedom, a right to survive, Worked so hard, to stay alive, Born in tyranny, starving and meek, Women and children, hungry and weak. Clansmen hunting around for food, The rest of his kin, gathering wood, Mud huts leaking, raining hard, Fires dying, wood is charred. Freedom distant, lives are lost, Counting the sacrifices, mourning the loss, One day they will sing, depression will lift, Hoping that God will shower his gift. Death shall be rewarded in a life of new, The old woman sad, lonely and blue Remembering her sons, who fought and tried, To make life better, and live with pride. Many more deaths, when will it end? For rights and freedom, in which we depend, will it come one day? It’s so far a dream, Where reality rules, in a slow running stream. The spirit is willing, the flesh is weak, But death is reality, for the lowly and meek. For our freedom they fought and died Our women are widows and so they cried.