My Book of Poems, part two

 

At 50

I’m 50 - It came so fast,

The big five-0, I am aghast.

Where are the years? (They flew so fast),

As ever nearer the grave I pass.

If I could have that time again,

Oh, what changes I would make…

Early Christmas Morn

At break of morn, before the dawn,

We open our eyes to see,

If he has been (we are so keen),

But will we be filled with glee?

We open the door, at half past four,

We must go have and peek,

What’s under the tree for you and me?

So down the stairs we creep.

We make our way and as we pray,

A vision of joy unfolds.

Cars and stars and rockets to Mars,

A thousand dreams untold.

These are the dreams, the childhood scenes,

Repeated across the globe.

For one short night there is no fright,

It should, just always be so.

Thank you so much, we love you such,

For giving us so much joy.

We will be good, we know we should,

Each and every girl and boy.

If you Ate too much Food this Christmas...

Don’t be too concerned by all the extra calories you may have

consumed this Christmas, because they can be saved up and

made good use of, later, as cushioning against inflation.

Searching…

What is peace - does anyone really know?

I’ve searched so hard, but it evades me so!

Will I ever know its sweet embrace,

Its soothing touch, its saving grace?

Or will I just fumble on, from day to day,

‘Till I can dream no more, when I fade away?

Ah!

Time does not exist!

Ah, but here’s the twist…

It’s always NOW.

No before or then.

No happy ever afters for mice and men.

It’s NOW - it has always been,

‘Before and afters’ just a silly dream…

Moving On

My time is almost gone,

A time well spent,

A time - some fun.

I must now move on,

To a different place,

To another land, another face.

Will we meet again?

It’s hard to know,

And if we do, will it be right - yes or no?

Words Carved in Stone...

At the end of your days,

When your struggling is done,

When the battle is fought,

And the war has been won.

When you lie ‘neath the soil,

In splendid retreat,

All that' left of your deeds,

Are some words carved out neat.

When your soul is at rest,

And your body no more,

Those words you have left,

Might lead to implore.

They may inspire someone else,

Who is not yet in this world,

To strive and continue,

With your dreams and your goals.

Those words carved in stone,

Though they be cold and so still,

Are the most important of all,

The things you leave in your will.

So before that day comes,

Record those words down,

Of how you want to be remembered,

And for what, through all time…

Cats

Cats are people too!
Why? Do they talk to you?
They are here, but not,
It’s like trying to cut fog!
Are cats people at all?

They have their friends,
When it pleases them…
And they have none,
When it pleases them, again…
Are they your friends at all?

They are certainly not people,
When they kill for fun…
Then again, perhaps they are more human, then...
It’s hard to know, I don’t know,
Whether they are human or not.

Look into their eyes,
Do you see mankind looking back?
We are not their masters,
We have no control over them,
Perhaps they are people after all!

Dogs Dogs want to be people, too, Look at them, they will look at you. If they could talk what tales would tell? Of butts and bones of cars and smells. They know quite often, before you do, That you’re going out, they see the clues. Your keys might clink; they say, “It’s time, To have a drive in that car of mine.” What’s yours is theirs, and what’s theirs is yours, They don’t see your failings, can’t see your flaws, Just pat their head or shake a paw, they’re happy. A better friend could ne’er be sought, They will stick with you through thick or thin, Never flinching, you always win. They love you; it’s simply that, They love you; forget that cat. When evening comes they wait for you, Sitting by the door, with tail a wagging, “Hey, it’s you again, c’mon let’s go outside, And have some fun, you’re my number one.”

I’m Not Mad!!!

I’m not mad; mad, mad mad,

I’m not mad - not me!

I'm not mad, mad mad, mad,

Mad, mad, mad, oh hee.

I AM NOT MAD!

(We'll not so much that anyone will notice, will they?)

And on that mad note I'll say goodbye from this, the second selection from ''My Book of Poems'…

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I am the crazy-mad writer of children's stories,

songs, nursery rhymes and much, much more!

© Gerrard T Wilson 2008