If I am right to write
Of things I know
And shine a light
On what I show
Who will then find
These things not wrong
But judge them kind
For my swan song
Category Archives: Poetry
Not Enough
When you think you’ve given all you can
Try to find a little bit more
To help the lot of your fellow man
Because we’ll always have the poor
Be it poor in spirit, money or health
There are those worse off than you
Sharing succour, if not your wealth
Is an act of humanity too
And don’t confuse the poor and needy
With idle hands or mind
Not all that need are lazy and greedy
When you’ve capacity to be kind
Whimsy
Some might think it a curse
But when I’m writing verse
I do like it to rhyme
Though not always every occasion.
For Mother’s Day
What price would you put on a mother’s care?
For without your Mum, you wouldn’t be here
All helpless at birth, you arrived on this earth
Drawing your first breath of air
More work began then, for your dear Ma
If she was lucky, she was helped by Pa
Mum cleaned and fed, she made your bed
Loving you just as you are
Safe in her arms, the world held at bay
Teaching and nurturing you every day
You’d struggle to thrive, or even survive
Without her to show you the way
Think now how it was for her in that past
Back in a time that could not last
Mum did her best, she passed every test
As she watched you grow up, just too fast
Being Meek
via When we see some drunken lout
Causing havoc to those about
What holds us back from a reprimanding shout?
Is it fear, or just self-doubt?
Never
A land of ageless boys, pirates and fairies
A vow between husband and wife
A resolution for the brand-new year
The chance to re-do this life
Two Too Many
Alone, I marshal my thoughts, without hindrance or distraction
Singly, I right the world’s wrongs, bringing order to chaos
Selfishly, I revel in the lack of contradiction
Separately, I pine for company
Together, I need to fit in.
The Cusp
That single point in time
Remember?
The one that defined us
Setting the course of our futures
If you could
Would you change it?
Might things have been better?
Or Just different?
If that particular sleeping dog
Was wakened
Skin Deep
When you look at me
There’s so much you can’t see
Like the roots of a tree
Or an iceberg at sea
Don’t take by mistake
The ripples on a lake
For a passing boat’s wake
But the coming earthquake
For all that I am
Much more than this sham
Now quiet as a lamb
Could burst like a dam.
Giving
As steam from a kettle
And smoke from a pyre
Like a soldier in battle
Or a voice in a choir
A raindrop that falls
In an ocean so vast
Gives itself to the whole
Forgetting its past
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