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Sparky ParentsI will tell you this, from me to you, To raise good children all that you have to do, Is be good parents, be shining bright, The spark of their dreams and the light of their lives. , While they are young and when everything’s new, Be their best friend, and they also with you, Childhood is fleeting, and before very long, They will have departed the nest, and left you alone, So pull up a blanket, lay down ‘neath the stars,
And dream both together of pipes, cloaks and cars.
Conkers Bonkers
Conkers is a pastime, That we remember every year, When September comes we search about, To find these gems so rare.
When we’ve collected bagfuls, Enough for you and me, We rush them home to sort and grade, Into classes one to three.
The first are left to use right now, And try our luck at play, The second, to treat, to cure and bake, Into champions, I do say.
The third are left for a whole year long, Stuck up the chimney flu, Until their day of glory comes,
I’ll make do with one and two.
Cracked
Some people might think that I am so cracked, Two sheets to the wind, and that is a fact. But I say it’s them, who are lacking of sorts, Afraid to speak up and convey their true thoughts.
To speak and to mean just what we do say, Is an honesty lacking in this world of today. If people joined in with this wonderful cause, They would value and welcome and give it applause.
But people are strange; so nice to the face, But turning their back they fall down in disgrace, Lying and cheating, with no thought to the pain, That neglecting truth causes, or who is to blame.
They just follow the herd and follow the crowd, Ticking off those who dare to stand alone, proud. Laughing at those two sheets in the wind, Oblivious to the fact that they are happier than them.
Perhaps more would be happier and less would have sinned.
December 21st
The shortest stay, The weakest rays, This very day.
This self-same morn, At break of dawn, The veil is torn, New hope is born.
Remove the dark, Bring back the spark, Life spirit’s mark, Of this I hark.
Inspire us on, With hope anon, Returning sun, Life must go on.
Father Christmas, where have you gone?
Will I never tell my son, Of times gone by, of simpler ways, When you reigned supreme each Christmas day?
He does your job with greater haste. In colours chosen by market men, To sell more drinks in bottles and cans.
Spend your money – don’t wonder why. Santa Claus, in red and white, Drinks cola, he must be right…
Where is the Map?
My bones are cold, I found it hard to sleep last night. My bones are old, I’ll need more rest tonight.
If the weather turned warmer, and very soon, I might just make it through 'till June. I feel as though my end is neigh, If it rains any more I will certainly die.
Oh where is the sun, has it forever gone? Oh where is the sun, is it on the run, From me and you and them as well? Are we just living in our very own hell?
I need the light, I crave the sun, There must be more to life than run, run, run, Trying to escape the hell of the poverty trap, There must be more! Oh where is the map?
I will find the map.
Summer Solstice – A time To Think
All alone, Standing proud, But looking on.
No time to stop, Or wait awhile, No time to rest, No time to smile.
This is my life, In recent years, No time to stop, No time to care.
Just a second here, A minute there, But not enough, To show I care.
I must slow down, And use my span, To show how I feel, For earth and land.
And I rush headlong towards it, with no chance to run away…
I’m Not 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 fourth selection from ''My Book of Poems'…
I am the crazy-mad writer of children's stories,songs, nursery rhymes and much, much more!
© Gerrard T Wilson 2008 |
