His plans for the future on hold
And time ticks on he’s getting old,
He does not feel part of the community
Suppose we are in ourselves what we see
That makes us the person we are
The poor sighted never see far,
He is a cranky ageing bloke
And not one to laugh at a joke
Doesn’t smoke cigarettes or drink beer
One might say a hard one to cheer
And the stress from him seems to spill out
When at his wife and his children he shout.
And rhyme it has been around for a long timeThough it seems out of fashion nowadays for to rhyme,The great poets of history their poems living onBut fame is of no use to the long dead and goneAnd many great writers died in povertyWhich to say the least seems a bit sad to me,Poets cannot…
And i feel peace it quietly comes to meOn silent wings across the silent sea.The ocean seems asleep no breakers roarAnd gentle waves lap gently on the shoreAnd scarce a puff of breeze on Blackrock bayAnd a perfect ending to a perfect day.‘Twould seem to me that the sea too has a soulAnd all her…
With a big smirk upon your face you say how young I lookTo lie to you comes easy but I read you like a book.When you tell me how young I look my ego doesn’t grow fatYou play the game teenagers play and you’re much too old for thatFor one in his early thirties you’ve…
The Government elected by the Figian people they held at point of gunBut by such acts of cowardice respect is never won.George Speight your Figian hero to me is just a cowardHe and his so called patriots with their rifles feel empoweredTo his Pacific Island honour he did not bringBut then one person’s villian is…
Where abouts is Fitzroy Street? I pointed her the wayThe rain came down in drizzle in the fading lamp of day.She wore a dark blue Muslim scarf and she had a lovely smileOne perhaps in her sixties and she seemed free of guileShe asked what Land are you from are you Scottish maybeOr more than…
And sun shine through the clouds at nine to add a little warmthBut it is cold so very cold in Daylesford Town today.A Winter haze above the lake the coot and moorhen callBut magpie does not mind the cold he pipes his melodyAnd in the bleakness of the morn a sight of beauty rareThe yellow…
