My Rhymes

Collected here are my ‘poems’ (rhymes, they are really just rhymes) that have been published elsewhere on the blog, but are now collated here in one easy to use, one big happy family page!

Progress

 

Image result for progress

One step forward

Two centuries back.

Progress they call it

In a world turned black.

The right wing drifts

Ever further west

Falls into the sea

Drowns all on its left.

Capitalism capitalises

On the backs of the needy

Gobbles them up, swallows them whole;

Feeds the fat and greedy.

The poor, once hidden,

Now stark, in plain sight.

We avert our delicate eyes ,

Leave them to their fight.

In ivory towers we

Cast our eyes down,

Forget what’s important

Here in our own town.

That is…

To look after each other,

Nurture good health;

Inspire a love of learning,

Not educate to create wealth;

 

Care for the vulnerable,

The young, old and poor;

But ‘from cradle to the grave’

Appears to be no more.

Preoccupied with economy

Tax and VAT,

It’s time we voted on what matters most:

Our social responsibility.

 

 

 

Image result for spring wild flowers pictures

Spring

December strips bare

All that

January can’t care

For.

February: snow drops

But…

Hyacinth shoots and crocuses

Hint at

Life stirring in bulbs

Beneath.

Suddenly!

Daffodil trumpets herald in

March and an

Explosion of colour

Springs to life.

Early bird bluebells burst forth and

Against blue skies

Blossom blooms

Cherry pink and apple white

Then…

Scatter in

April showers

Dotting, like a Monet over emerald carpets,

An impression of what

May come.

 

Image result for commercial valentines

Invalidating Valentines

The weight of expectation

Hangs heavy in the air

“Does she really love me?”

“Does he even care?”…

Enough to buy a Clintons’ Card,

A dozen over-priced red roses?

A heart shaped box of chocolates

Then on one knee proposes?

Why pander to the commercial threat

Romance isn’t for one day of the year;

There’s three hundred and sixty-four others

To make loving intentions clear.

Image result for pupils in rows

1984- A poem

Moulded from the cradle

Until they reached their grave

In grey suits, they wandered…

Bland,

Aimless,

Slaves.

Slaves to society,

Slaves to the State.

Brainwashed

Baited

And Education sealed their fate.

Conformity crushed the soul

Of every living thing

Institutionalised,

Indoctrinated,

And money became king.

They bought high; sold out low

Worked

Towards an unknown goal

Until consumerism

Swallowed

The world up

Whole.

In their quest to fill the emptiness

As they hurtled towards the grave,

They plugged the void,

The gaping hole,

With all the stuff they craved.

And, like lambs to the slaughter,

Not fully understanding

What it is we need to find,

We follow

This lesson in futility

Eyes shut,

Blind.

Moulded from the cradle

Until we reach the grave

In grey suits, we wander…

Bland,

Aimless,

Slaves.

What is this life?

What is it,

This life

If not to be shared?

To waltz through

Alone,

To never be paired…

Is torturous pain

Which haunts a human mind

Eternally searching

For ties that bind.

The tango was only

Ever meant

For two

There should never be me,

Only me and you.

The brightest of nights

Can grow darker still,

No warm arms enfold

And ward off the chill.

Embers flicker

Coals wait to be lit,

But time marches on

Through the deepening pit.

So what is it

This life,

With no one to share,

With no one to love

No one to care?

Pointless and drab

Colourless, cold

Empty and meaningless

With no one to hold.

No one to dream with

Or aim for the skies

No one to cherish

The long goodbyes.

No one to laugh with

To talk to, to speak

No one for strength

At the start of a week.

So what is it,

This life

If we can’t find the one?

To share in our hopes

In our dreams

In our fun?

The key must be

To open the door

To unlock the heart

Despite

What passed before.

To trust and to love

Embrace possibility,

To find in another

To see what could be.

A Christmas Promise

It’s Christmas again 

For one and all

A time for cheer

To have a ball

But above all else

This festive season,

Remember this truth

Love is its reason.

Give gifts with full heart

And never have fear

To show friends and family

Or those you hold dear

How much they mean to you

For when all’s said and done

We hope they’ll be there

When the presents are gone.

So Happy Christmas to all

The people I know

I may not often say it

Or take time to show

How much you all mean

All the year through

Perhaps next year I’ll try harder

In all that I do.

To not take you for granted

For maybe next year

Those with me right now

Won’t be so near.

They may move away

In spirit or mind

In geographical location

Or themselves to find.

So don’t be complacent

Think back to the start

How things are always different

In December’s heart

Can we carry the love

All the year long?

I think we should try

For to not would be wrong.

Merry Christmas to you all

Each and every one

I hope this coming year 

Is both peaceful and fun.

I hope it’s filled with love

Not just in taking, but giving

For love is the one thing

That makes life worth living.

What I am

“What do you do?” they asked, 

Eyes open wide.

“Not what I imagined,” I said,

“It’s come as quite a surprise.

Let’s see…

 I’m a chef and a chauffeur;

A gardener, a maid;

A social worker, teacher;

A Jack of all Trade.

I’m a builder, a cleaner;

An accountant, a nurse.

Having so many skills

Can be quite a curse.

I’m a mechanic and entertainer;

A negotiator, a clerk.

I have time for little else

Other than my work.”

“Wow! You do such a lot,”

They chorused in awe.

“You must earn a fortune,

You’ll never be poor!”

“Hmmmm, well…

There’s no holiday, no pension;

No perks and no pay;

There’s no company car;

I’m never allowed a sick day.”

“What sort of a job is that?

They cried, unimpressed

“Surely you get something,

You must earn some rest?”

I smiled at the children

So young and so free

And instead of replying I asked:

“What would you like to be?”

Their answers were eager

They sought to be the best:

A footballer, a pop star;

A forensic scientist.

“So you wouldn’t like my job?”

I asked and  grinned from ear to ear.

They all shook their heads:

“No way Jose; not on your life; have no fear!”

I considered their faces,

Full of innocence and hope

How could I tell them

The truth?

How would they cope?

Image result for writing

WHY I WRITE

 I write because I want to

I write because I can,

I write to create a fantasy world

Just like that of Peter Pan.

I write to escape reality

Of what this life has to give,

I write because I’ve found

No better way to live.

I write so I can create

A world that’s never been,

 I write to show the universe

Images yet unseen.

I write because I have stories

Buried deep inside,

I write to unlock their treasures

So they’re remembered once I’ve died.

I write to entertain

I write to make us think,

I write to spark thoughts and ideas

To provide a missing link.

I write because I like to

See words form upon the page,

I write because just sometimes

It’s the best way to release the rage.

I write because our language

Is varied, rich and fun,

 I write to play around with words

And find the perfect pun.

I write to reach out to others

So they might hear my words,

Perhaps what I say will help them

To find freedom like the birds.

I write to make a difference

In hope somebody will hear,

A message which may overcome

Their sadness or their fear.

I write to express the thoughts

Which get tangled in my head

The ones I can’t express out loud

The ones which might never get said.

I write in hope that one day, maybe,

I’ll make money from my art;

That way I’ll be able to spend more time

Following what is here, within my heart.

Hallowe’en Horror

In dark days gone by

“When I were a lad,”

When ghosts and ghouls

Were truly horrid and bad,

Hallowe’en arrived,

And I ran scared…

Of witches and goblins

And bats eyes that stared.

Out of the blackness,

In the cold October night…

Lay the dreaded possibility

Of a Vampire’s bite.

Hardly daring to breathe…

Or climb up the stairs

Into the gloom, alone

On my neck, stood the hairs.

Lest I should chance upon,

And meet my own doom…

From a ghoulish fiend,

Or a witch on a broom.

All these terrors locked inside

For many a year…

Until common sense and age,

Made the ghosts disappear.

Now adult and wise

Hallowe’en I still dread,

But not for the fear of

Being found by the un-dead

Oh no! A new horror,

A new haunting arose…

Where upon my doorstep

Something tripled my woes.

For once every year,

On October thirty-first…

New phantoms appeared

Kids at their very worst.

In clichéd costumes

They wander the street,

Offering a trick…

Unless I do treat.

But imagination lacks much

 In these modern times.

And so often the tricks

Should be classified crimes.

They dress up (or down?)

And they pound on the door…

To plead for their treats,

But these children aren’t poor.

A most abhorrent tradition

This act has become,

Endorsed by the parents

Who call it ’armless ‘fun.’

Encouraging children to beg and

Expect to be given for free…

Everything they desire

Is this how it should be?

Think:

Do you give a soul-cake

To the poor and the needy?

Or dole out your sweets

To the needless and greedy?

And why do we ‘celebrate’

This charade to this day?

Does anyone know?

Can anyone say?

Derived from the festival

“All Hallow’s Eve”

Is it not time…

This ‘tradition’ we leave?

Summer sonnet: Some questions and observations. 

Why is it in a heatwave
Faces start smiley and bright?
But after three days of sunshine
Everyone’s ready for a fight?

Why does everyone buy suncream
To slip, slap, slop it on?
But end up looking like lobsters
All cooked and overdone?

Why do some people insist
On parading around in the buff?
Men with their shirts thrown off
Showing their belly fluff?

Women who have forgotten
What body shape they are,
Believing all of a sudden
They have the looks of a film star.

The sight of far too many toes,
The whiff of sweaty feet,
The stench of body odour,
On everyone you meet.

And eating out in the open,
What is that all about?
You know it’s only going to be ruined
When the wasps come swarming out.

And why can flies
Find their way through a tiny crack?
But open a door wide for them
And they can’t find their way out for Jack?

The pressure to go outside
Just because it’s ‘nice’
The pressure to drink a G&T
Complete with ice and a slice.

And if you don’t enjoy
This ridiculous kind of heat,
Why be branded odd, strange or weird
By everyone you meet?

Ode To November 5th

Gunpowder smoke lingers

In the night air so dry

Hot dog and baked potato odours

Mix with warm apple pie.
 

Sprinkles of glittering fireworks

Shoot across the arid sky

‘Oohs’ and ‘aahs’ echo

As the crowds collectively sigh.

 

Flames flicker on the bonfire,

Smouldering ashes rise up high,

They dance off on the November breeze

Cooling as they fly.

 

The burning effigy of Fawkes centre stage

Reminds us of a Guy,

Who once tried to blow up Parliament

And make the gentry fry.
 

A long born out tradition

To seemingly never die,

Another 5th of November gone,

’til next year: Aurevoir, farewell, goodbye.

Ode To Social Media

Oh Social Media, how I love 
Your silly, modern ways.
A place to be a socialite
Across the World Web waves.

To check in your location,
Refresh the News Feed page;
To tag and crop a photograph
To create your very own stage.

A place to share and have a laugh,
Or for sympathy to seek.
Make of it all what you will
Any day of your long, dull week.

A world to stalk celebrities
From the comfort of your own home.
Or just to find that other folk
Have a life as ordinary as your own.

Status updates, like and link
A profile for all to see.
Nothing’s sacred anymore
But who cares? It’s all for free.

Tell whoever wants to know
All about your life.
Communicate your deepest thoughts
From the sofa to your wife.

Collect up lots of friends like stamps
How many follow you?
How many do you even ‘like’
Of all your Facebook crew?

Be certain that you always
Try hard not to offend.
Be politically correct
Lest your followers should un-friend.

Acronyms a plenty
May drive some up the wall.
O.M.G and W.T.F
You haven’t heard them all??

Now Social Media, it may seem I loathe you
For wasting all my time.
But if you were not in my life
Then where would I share this rhyme?

 

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