My Poetry ♥♥♥ ©

World War Games!

The stillness and quiet? Of night as it approaches dawn.

Soon there is some chirping from outside near the lawn.

Miles’ away is the opposite. It’s noisy, there is crying, children all forlorn.

Not a nice reception for those, this coming dawn.

Abba! Father, I shout, “bring your hand out, heal this worldly mess?

Use your POWER, Stop the humans using theirs, get RID of the distress!”

BANG! Devastation and desolation all around,

NOWHERE to walk on this human carpet on the ground.

I heard the VOICE! It said, “I am coming, my child, just so many souls left to save!

Like any Father, I don’t want any child of mine stuck in the grave.”

Oh, please! Stop! All you leaders, it’s NOT a game. Take your fingers off the buttons! It’s fathers, mothers, children, sisters and brothers. NOT TOY SOLDIERS, at stake!

Tired Eyes; Can’t Sleep.

It was cold but the moon,

Was bright,

Late December,

The stars were alight,

 

My bedroom was cosy,

All are Asleep,

Except for Me!

Eyes tired, can’t Sleep!

 

My dogs, they are huddled,

One of them snores!

My children are quiet,

Behind their doors,

 

But out of the window,

And down the street,

I could hear someone launching,

The pavement did meet!

 

Mrs Paloma flew out of the door,

To check the person,

Laid flat on the floor!

“Are you Okay? Come on, let’s see?”

So they went for a natter,

A cup of tea!

 

My eyes are still tired,

But instead of been dosy,

I admired the sky,

I continued to nosy.

 

It was now four am. there was a heck of a crash,

This time! It was a poor old lass,

Was it the ice? Or just her own feet?

No! the elastic had broken,

Now left her seat!

 

Oh dear, I thought;

That was a fright!

Not to mention,

An awkward sight.

 

I’ m glad Miss Dumbarton was just going in,

When those awake,

Heard the terrible ‘din’.

At least the old lass,

Had nothing fractured,

Except perhaps her pride,

With the rotten elastic.

 

The night was now quiet,

There was nothing to see,

A few blowing branches swaying on the trees,

My Eyes are still tired, time for defeat.

I laid back down and went to sleep.

HB.

A Moral for A and E.

The noise of the busy department.

Even in the early hours too.

They keep on walking and working;

Is it him next or you?

Don’t go to the door or the toilet,

Or be stranded with sticks in a chair!

Or you find yourself at the back of the queue,

Thinking, Hey! That’s unfair!

You arrive in an ambulance wheelchair,

Feeling ill and all forlorn,

It’s Friday and ya meet an old friend,

Now you’re wishing to pole vault…

Down the road!!!

But, the laughter brings such good healing,

And gosh! Such ‘fresh air’

As we got down to reminiscing,

We ‘ed been teenagers with dare!

I remembered the time we went dancing,

The teeny ‘bopper’ two-hour club!

We didn’t know how we would get there,

With blisters and toes that were stubbed.

You said Hey! There’s my uncle?

He stopped! I couldn’t believe what I saw.

Next, we are on the back of a milk cart…

He took us right up to the door…

Back to the busy department,

Almost everyone had gone?

I’d sat there in my wheelchair,

Still tight chested and waiting too long!

The moral: Don’t make assumptions,

It’s not that folk’s don’t care,

It’s not you ignored the call?

Or that you just were n’t there?

Remember the people in wheelchairs,

or the ones who are scared ‘on sticks’

They just cannot shout!

“I am coming!” Tight chested!!!

They cannot be quick.

HB.

Advent-God’s Walk

In the first; I walked the earth, for all my friends to see,

In the second; I sent my Son, who came to set you free,

Alas, I am invisible, to a world who has forgot…

That with my voice, and because of Love; I actually made the lot.

But One day; Do Not Despair, keep the faith, as I’ll return.

I will reshape and will mend the broken world being caused…

For Riley,

Tomorrow is my grandsons second Birthday party,

We will have lots of laughs and they will be hearty,

Sandwiches, salads, sausages and cheese,

Oh, our little boy will be very pleased.

I know how excited he will be!

With the wrapping, the boxes and all he will see!

The blocks, the trains, the million faces.

He’s used to seeing them in different places.

Happy Birthday, my little guy Riley,

I can’t wait to see you all Happy and smiley.

From Grandma x

Silent Despair

She’s too young to sit in a cloud so black,

Wondering how she can fetch her way back!

It’s like a maze, she cannot get out,

“Away!” To her loved ones as she takes a rant,

Desperately doing what some term attention!

After the moment, it is not her intention.

It is a fit of frustration,

“I can’t take anymore!”

As she ushers her friends out of the door…

But that is not really what she wants;

Nor is ‘the answer’ at the forefront.

Prayer and care. That is the answer!

I will sit and wait for the miracle to save her!

In honour of those fighting depression  # mental health.

Dads Life.

Like an orchid, I blossomed away from my roots.

I thanked God for my flowers I had produced.

My roots although distant never did fade, Our Brenda, Colin, Frank, Jack, Sheila and Elaine.

This list is exhausted, I’ve left loads out.

My heart though never did without a doubt x
Born in PONTE, Castleford raised. The navy became my travelling phase!

I marvelled at Niagara as I watched the falls. Then back to ship for more of the world.
Next, I met Linda, my love was she! and before I knew it we had three!

Three blossoms to nurture, each a different rose. Now I was busy in my humble abode.
I missed a vocation, boy I could sing and my hips shook like Elvis,

A Joy I did bring,

To all those, I sang too from the heart.

Yes, I sang, just like a lark!
It wasn’t all fun this journey of mine,

Spent time in the hospital,

That was a bind.

I left my mark though that is true,

I live in the many hearts of those I knew.

Now I am whole, completely pain-free

Sat in my mansion waiting for thee. xxx.

By Haley B

29th Sept. 2016 Mums Tribute 1yr

So it passed, is it really a year?

Since the Mum, we were blessed with, left us from here!

Back to the Father, yes, he took you home,

but we’ve mourned the loss of our earthly backbone!

I am so thankful to be born to you,

With your home sewn clothes and the Yorkshire stew!

It’s a fraction of the list,  I could write here, but Mum,

I will always miss you, dear.

29th Sept.2017 Tribute 2.

It is now two years, how have I got through? Not one hour, could I forget you.

Not one hour, could I forget you.

It seems forever since I touched your face and you followed with a familiar embrace.

I will pray to the end of my days; that I will stand behind you in the heavenly place.

There is one thing though, that will make you smile?

I too had a chuckle as the tear ran by,

I bet you are glad there are no phones in His Mansion!

At least I cannot drive to distraction. x

National Poetry Day

Waiting for love.

Long had I yearned for the sense of his love,

Believing always one day he would come,

Like a dove been set free, I had let him go

My heart kept faith, with a constant glow,

The warmth of feeling the love is still there,

Even though you can’t touch it, that is hard to bare,

When I heard his story, I knew it matched mine,

Soul to soul, my mate so divine.

He did not know this, as divulge I did not,

It would have sound corny like I’d copied his plot!

My dream was one day that my prince would return,

To begin where we left off that day on the phone.

I still think sometimes that he is about.

Just certain notions, a feeling, then, doubt.

I hope he is happy somewhere out there,

As happy as the feelings that I had declared.

28/09/2017 HBN

 

 

History!

This came to me having read John Astor’s blog on death.

I hope you don’t think I am morbid. I was travelling through a village on my way home and having read JOHN’S story this came to me.

As I drove through the village,
I did surmise,
Thousands of people have lived and died,
I looked at the changes which had arrived
from the new modern buildings and Victorian alike!
If only these magnificent buildings could speak,
What a tale of history they could repeat,
The loves, the lost, the good and the bad?
Oh, what a tale could be had.
So many life stories, year upon year,
As we live, grow and die and disappear.

HBN

 

Copyright 2017