The End of the Year

The end of the year has now finally come;
Should one be happy or should one be glum?
Have you achieved all the dreams that you had
At the start of the year, and so should be glad?
Or has the year passed with so much still undone,
So little success and so few victories won?
Or maybe the truth is a mixture of both,
With various states of stagnation and growth.
You may have had visions you'd reach for the sky,
With targets for some things being set far too high,
Not thinking that during the year you would need,
Very exceptional luck to succeed.
Or maybe sometimes you did not persevere
Even though victory was coming quite near.
But a new year is dawning, and you have a chance
To set some new goals, so your life will advance,
But things in your heart that you truly believe
With focus and work you can hope to achieve.
And then this time next year, perhaps you will find
You've passed all the targets that you have defined.

Unnecessary Wars

The world is awash with a series of wars,
Many occurring without a just cause;
Some people decide that they want to seize power,
Which they know that their government will not allow.
They've got some ideas that they want to promote,
But they're also aware that they'd lose any vote.
So they start a rebellion, and it's not long before
The country's involved in a grim civil war.
Or countries start arguing over some land,
Intemperate words mean the flames are soon fanned
Both sides of the border, and things become hot,
And someone is foolish and fires the first shot;
And so a war starts, when the two might have found,
A peaceful solution for that bit of ground.
Or problems arise in connection with trade,
With a great many loud accusations being made,
Till one party acting most likely on pride
Without too much thought on things comes to decide
That they will lose face if they try to make peace,
And people's respect for them afterwards will cease.
And so they attack when a few minutes' pause
Would show that this was the most foolish of wars.
And they could have sat at a table and talked
If hotheads from both hadn't constantly baulked
At finding a peaceful solution to end
Their problems and thus change from foe into friend.
Then there are wars that result from man's greed,
When people and countries want more than they need,
Invading their neighbours, to take what is theirs,
Secure in the knowledge that nobody cares
To take on the powerful, who thus get away
With actions that vary from black through to grey.
So many wars today would not take place
If only throughout all the world 'twas the case
That people sat down and discussed it all first;
With far fewer wars would the earth then be cursed

What Shall I Do with My Hair

My hair is simply in a mess; I don't know what to do;
I know I ought to give some thought to trying something new;
For I'm really not too happy with my hairdo as it stands.
As currently it hangs straight down in shortish mousy strands,
Perhaps it should be shorter, though I'm not sure that would solve,
The problem of its mousiness which likely would involve,
Bleaching it or colouring, and I'm really not that keen,
On anything as drastic, though I'd like a nicer sheen.
Perhaps a perm would do the trick, but I know well from the past,
Perms on me look nice when  done, but hardly ever last.
Oh dear, I think I just will have to keep the style I've got,
Until I make my mind up if I want to change or not.

Houses Built on Flood Plains

Houses built on flood plains, small or large and posh,
Will always be in danger of one day being awash
With water from the river, which is mostly just a stream,
The sort of little trickle, that so many would not dream
Can become a raging torrent if there is sufficient rain,
Before reverting back to just a little brook again.
But while it is a torrent it can flood the land around,
Spreading water rapidly across low-lying ground,
Enveloping the houses there that lie within its path,
Leaving devastation as the dreadful aftermath.
Things may be fine for many years, a century or more,
It could be that the river's never flooded there before,
But there is always just a chance that heavy rain will fall,
The river will o'erflow its banks and then begin to sprawl
Over all the land which lies spread out on either side,
Moving very quickly like a fast incoming tide.
Flood plains can be pretty, and some water's always nice,
But building there can sometimes come with quite a hefty price

No Snow for Christmas

Yet again there was no snow for Christmas,
On the ground not a smidgeon of white,
The leaves on the trees were unladen
So again weren't a Christmassy sight.
Instead just the current mild weather,
With maybe a few drops of rain;
Let's hope that perhaps there'll be next year
A snowy white Christmas again.

The Coming of the Three Wise Men

Three wise men set off, starting out from afar,
They crossed over deserts, lead by a star;
They made their way swiftly, for they hoped to find
The longed-for Messiah, who'd lead all mankind.
They sought for a king, who'd be strong and would reign,
Over all people, on mountain or plain.
The result of their quest must have seen seemed to them stranger
For they found not a king but a babe in a manger.
But they gave him their gifts they'd decided to bring,
Though they were originally brought for a king.
Gold formed a part, there was frankincense too,
Together with myrrh, and then they withdrew,
And warned in a dream departed in haste,
Before their location by Herod was traced.

Inspiration Gene

I need an inspiration gene,
For though I might be really keen
To be creative, there are times
I cannot think of any rhymes,
And need some help to start to write,
And am conscious that my plight,,
Would much be helped if only I
Possessed a gene, so I need not try
To think of things, but could just sit,
And wait till they came to be bit by bit.

The Farmer

Out in all weathers - he can't stay indoors;
Whether it's sunny or whether it pours
He has to be out and about at his work;
Bad weather is never a reason to shirk.
Cows must be milked and in some seasons fed
At an hour when most people have not left their bed.
Crops must be planted, and harvested too,
As each year the seasons all come round anew/
He has to mend fences, help animals calve,
Though there may be some times when the workload may halve,
There's always a great deal which needs to be done,
And no modern farmer can sit back and shun
The myriad of jobs, unexpected or planned
That all must be done if one works on the land.

The Back Streets on Boxing Day

The streets are empty of traffic; free parking spaces abound,
For on the day after Christmas there is hardly a soul around.
Most people seem to have vanished, to stay with family or friends,
Perhaps somewhere in the country, till the holiday period ends.
For there are few lights in the windows, except for the Christmas trees,
And maybe some bulbs on the fencing, which merrily sway in the breeze.
The houses are largely in darkness, no sign of life can be seen;
And black in the living-room corner's the ubiquitous t.v. screen.
Everything's quiet and peaceful; there's hardly a sound to be heard,
With less human talk on the pavements than the infrequent song of a bird.
The big shops may be busy, and the high street a bustling throng,
But here in the back streets it's empty, through it won't be like this for long.
For the holiday soon will be finished, which will be the signal for when
The people who live in the houses will all be returning again.

Life Would be Better

Life would be better if there could be peace,
If all the world's troubles could instantly cease,
With everyone working, ensuring the earth
Kept to the concept enshrined in the birth
Of a world without conflict, where love was the way
To see that all strife was kept firmly at bay.

Midnight Mass

A church awash with many candles, sending darkness on its way
With their flames so gently glowing, it appears they wish to say:
"Here is light, you need no other; listen to the message brought
To the people then in darkness, which today is still being taught."
All the old familiar carols, as the church begins to fill,
Words that first were learned in childhood and are all remembered still.
And the atmosphere's augmented, as so many people find
Just how many happy memories once again are brought to mind.
There are constant new arrivals, filling seating to the brim
By the time that Mass commences with the rousing opening hymn.
No matter if outside it's pouring, or the snow lies on the ground,
In the church it's warm and cosy, heightened by the joyous sound
As the people join the worship, which expresses once again
A welcome to that tiny baby who came down to earth to reign.
There's a feeling of excitement, growing as the Mass proceeds,
And the world with all its troubles from the people's minds recedes.
This is real, for God is present in his people gathered here
Who contribute by their presence to the holy atmosphere.
At the end, the small bambino is within the manger laid,
Showing in a graphic fashion what the Gospels have portrayed.
Mary looks in adoration at her first-born lying there.
On the other side is Joseph in an attitude of prayer.
The final hymn ends with a greeting sung to Jesus Christ Our Lord.
Who is worthy of all worship and now especially adored.
The Mass is ended; "Merry Christmas" indicates it's Christmas Day,
As the people greet each other and all homeward make their way

Looking Back on 2015 Resolutions

The year's almost over and have I achieved
All the items last January I then believed
Were certainly possible, given I tried,
With most of them things I could take in my stride?

I get out the list and I start working through,
And find I can easily cross out a few;
With others there's difficulty, for there's some doubt,
If I've done quite enough that they should be crossed out.

But it's also quite obvious a check has unveiled
That time after time I have definitely failed
To achieve the intentions I wrote out last year,
In most cases not even coming quite near.

How Can They Know

"His life would be awful," the doctors said,
"He really would be better off dead."
But how are they sure this is really true?
What if the unborn child were you?

A great many people with handicaps
Have to accept that there may be gaps
In what they can do and the choices there are,
And their disability may be a bar
To some things that others regard as the norm,
But this doesn't mean that they cannot perform
A great many tasks, maybe better than most
And often can cope with a difficult post,
Like being the Home Secretary, just for a start,
For a disabled person can still be quite smart.
And very few people, allowed to be born
Find themselves later beginning to mourn
That they were permitted their years on this earth
Instead of being killed at some point before birth.

Growing Older

The time has come when I'm seventy-five,
And still delighted to be be alive;
My full-time job means I'm working until
It's five every day, with no time to be ill
or feel depressed or lonely or sad,
Though at the end of the day I'm glad
To put on my coat and fly through the door
Happy I don't have to work any more.
But working ensure that I can afford
To enjoy all my leisure and never be bored.
There're plays to see and I always seek
Something that's interesting every week.
And if there's no play that I want to see
There're plenty of cinemas close to me,
With maybe a film, either classic or new,
Which I one evening would like to view.
Then there are concerts, with so much choice,
Reflecting the range of the human voice.
New exhibitions and lectures which might
Give me a further or greater insight
Into those topics which often I find
Tend to contribute to broaden my mind
And then, of course, there's the active part
Of lives like mine, where for a start,
I can join a choir and happily sing,
With all the enjoyment that that will bring.
Or go on some walks in the countryside,
On my own or a group with a guide.
Row on the ponds in a smallish boat,
That I can hopefully keep afloat.
There are plenty of classes if I have a yen
To learn something new, from art through to zen.
Perhaps ballroom dancing to keep myself fit,
Or a social club where they gather to knit.
There's tennis and netball and swimming of course,
Or I can spend time in the park on a horse.
Being seventy-five doesn't mean life is past,
For what is available's definitely vast,
And if you're determined you're going to build
A life where your days always tend to be filled
With interesting things which will keep you alert
And from this intention you never divert,
Then life can be fun, whatever they say,
With much to look forward to each single day.

Colours

The world is full of many hues,
Not just reds and greens and blues,
Yellow, purple black and white,
But millions which show in our sight.
We can detect a tiny change
In the colours in each range;
The slightest variation leads
To a shade, from which proceeds
In tiny steps until at last,
Another well known colour's passed.
Reds turn slowly into browns,
As black their vibrant colour drowns;
Reds and whites turn into pink,
As together both shades sink;
Blues and yellows turn to green,
With many changes in between.
The normal human eye can see
Two million shades; most would agree
That's huge, and; no computer can
Compete on this with any man.

The Saturday before Christmas

The shops are packed with people - there is hardly room to move,
And as the day progresses it's not likely to improve,
For it's coming up to Christmas; 'tis the Saturday before,
And everyone is shopping, buying ever more and more.
As Christmas is a part of life and comes up every year,
One wonders why so many wait until it is so near,
Each year, however, it's  the same, with shoppers everywhere,
Buying piles of food and drink, till shelves are looking bare;
Looking for the things they want around on Christmas Day,
Trying to find some presents for the guests who'll come to stay.
It must be very stressful trying to shop in such a rush
With endless queues and little chance of missing all the crush.
Perhaps it would be better if more people planned ahead,
And did their Christmas shopping over several weeks instead.

Cooking New Dishes

It's nice to cook new dishes, and I've tried out quite a few,
From things that are exotic to some different types of stew;
I peel and chop the vegetables, and put them in the pan
Or maybe deftly scatter all the pieces on a flan;
I flavour them with many herbs to give a different taste,
Using any oddments so that nothing goes to waste;
I boil and fry and bake and steam, so nothing is the same;
To not try out these different means I think would be a shame.
I like things to be colourful, so always try to choose
Ingredients that will provide a varied mix of hues.
I use a lot of items, from the chopping boards to jugs,
Pots and pans and knives and spoons and colanders and mugs;
Blenders, whisks and sieves as well; perhaps a glass or cup -
I only wish a fairy would then do the washing up.

Girls Should Play Sports

Instead of spending money on a host of slimming products
Most girls would gain more benefit from being involved with sports,
From playing in a football team to running round the park,
Developing their muscles flying round the tennis courts.

Whatever type of exercise they really fancy doing,
Will help to keep their weight in check, as well as being fun,
Especially if it is the sort that can be played outdoors,
So they will get the exercise as well as lots of sun.

And all that constant exercise will give them all the glow
Which comes from being active, and will give their looks a boost;
They'll see the difference clearly when they've done it for a while
And will enjoy the healthy look that active sport's produced.

Some Saudi Women have got the Vote

Some Saudi  women have got the vote,

And that is something one should note,

But how much further must they go

Until the time when they will know,

Equality before the law;

Only then and not before

Can it be said that they are free,

To be just what they want to be.

For they’re still not allowed to do

So many things, and their rights are few.

They’re not allowed to drive a car,

Which many might think quite bizarre.

Nor open a bank account, even if rich,

Without consent of a male, and which

Need not be given unless he agrees;

Saudi women can’t do as they please.

Trying on clothes for them is out,

Along with deciding to travel about

Without a related male’s consent;

Saudi women must be content

To ask permission all the time,

And they have no chance to climb

The ladder to a good career;

At work equality’s still not near.

Uncensored fashion mags are banned

At the government’s command.

Their lives are bound by rules which stop

Them even going out to shop

On their own, if they desire,

A way of living that’s quite dire.

They cannot mix at all with men;

And there’s no indication when

The law might change and set them free

To mix with who they want to see.

So though they’ve got a partial vote,

Which could be taken to denote

A change of heart, there’s many miles

And it’s certain many trials

Before a Saudi women can

Be the equal of her man.

Our Vulnerability to Power Cuts

At one time a power cut produced little more
Than some inconvenience; a bit of a bore
To find nothing happened on flicking the switch;
It might be a nuisance, but still nothing which
Would cause too much trouble, for candles would do
Though days might elapse till it came on anew.
When shops still had tills operated by hand,
They still could keep open with candles to stand
For the lights that weren't working; and offices too
Didn't need to have power, as today they all do.
For we're now completely dependent on power
Which must be available  through every hour
Of the day and the night, without missing a beat;
If it fails normal life quickly faces defeat,
For power's today needed to charge mobile phones,
And run the equipment that everyone owns.
No shop or an office could function today,
With all electricity taken away.
We're so much more vulnerable than in the past
For our needs through the years have increased till they're vast
And if there's a cut, then the days are long gone,
When workers and others could just carry on.

In Praise of Greasy Spoons

Greasy spoons may not mentioned as the place to eat, and yet
What is listed on the menu is exactly what you get.
Whether it's an English breakfast, with the items all spelled out,
Or an omelette, plain or Spanish, no-one's left in any doubt
What the ordered meal consists of, how the food will be prepared
For it's clearly on the menu, where each item is declared.
And the portions tend to generous, even when the cost is low,
With service that is usually excellent, rarely is it ever slow.
It's often not the same, however, if one tries a gastropub
Especially when they have decided they will serve exotic grub.
Names of dishes may not tally with the food that's on the plate,
As with great imagination, chefs make efforts to create,
Meals that certainly are different; perhaps they even are unique,
Which today brings much attention, and is what so many seek.
But other people have a preference for the food they know so well,
With its firm dependability and delicious home-made smell.

There's Always Something to Do

How can anyone claim that in London,
They often feel bored, for there's nothing to do,
When there are available endless activities,
Permanent ones, plus each day something new.

And many activities don't require money;
All can join in, for they're totally free;
And many that aren't are within people's budgets,
For all that they charge is a very small fee.

London is full of museums and galleries,
Many of which do not make any charge;
Some might be small and of limited interest,
But some that are free are incredibly large.

And many each day put on interesting lectures,
Given by experts, and all can join in,
The number of topics is just so enormous,
To list them one would not know where to begin.

Then there are parks everywhere in the city,
Beautiful gardens, to wander around,
Woodlands and other quite interesting features,
Within every borough can easily be found.

Those who like music will never have trouble
Discovering places where they can enjoy
Singing or playing, for most choirs and bands
Are happy to welcome a new girl or boy.

Sports clubs will usually welcome new members,
People who want to join in and keep fit,
And many are cheap, and there's not need to worry
That joining means buying expensive new kit.

There also are clubs for all types of enthusiast
Whatever your interest, you're certain to find,
Others in London, who live in your borough
Seeking for friends of a similar mind.

Whether it's yoga or writing or chess,
Running or reading or elderberry wine,
Pottery, painting or going on rambles,
Motor mechanics or graphic design,

There's sure to be others who share in your passion,
Just ask in the library or look on the net,
And you might discover there other activities
New information your interest to whet.

Then there are cinemas, concerts and theatres
London's a city where arts find a home,
You'll always find something that  tickles your fancy
If thought all the various listings you comb.

There's really no need to be bored when in London
There's never a shortage of things you can do,
Whether you like to just stick to the old one,
Or every day look round to try something new.

Trust

All our lives are built on trust;
To live with others, it's a must
To know that things are what they seem;
This is something all would deem
Essential to live without constant fear
Of any person coming near.
A uniform must signify
A truth and not a blatant lie;
One needs the confidence that goes
With knowing that an ethic flows
In those on whom we must rely,
Who by their training occupy
Positions where one must be sure
They'll do their best to help or cure.
It would be terrible to live
Where no-one could afford to give
The trust that's needed to survive
By every human being alive.

The Wrong Choice

I had a good job and I wished to progress;

It demanded my all, so I couldn’t give less.

My days were spent working; few evenings were free,

But that was the culture, and not just for me.

And then I fell pregnant; it was the result

Of just once being careless – entirely my fault.

My reaction was panic with thoughts running wild;

How could I possibly bring up a child?

My lover lost interest as soon as he knew.

Leading me stranded without more ado.

My boss had no sympathy; all he could say,

Was a baby would mean my career thrown away.

Alone and depressed I decided to act,

Even though I was aware of the fact

That most of my thoughts had become rather blurred

And deep down inside me I would have preferred

Things to be different; but that wouldn’t be,

And everything really was just up to me.

So I phoned up the clinic, to fix up a date,

Hoping I wouldn’t have too long to wait.

And then it was over, and I felt relief;

Only months later did I suffer grief

Whenever I saw a young mother and child;

Years after I still cannot feel reconciled

To the fact that my baby died long before birth

And never enjoyed any time on this earth.

I still keep the date when he should have been born,

And tears fill my eyes as I silently mourn,

The child that should have been my joy and pride,

Growing throughout all the years by my side.

Especially as afterwards my job did not last,

And all my ambitions were left in the past.

The Climate is Changing

The climate is changing; it's happened before;
And no-one can prophesy what is in store,
For ice ages come and then ice ages go,
Their arrival quite quick or sometimes quite slow.
It's only a matter of twelve thousand years,
Since Europe was one of the ice-covered spheres.
Then the ice melted; the European scene
Changed very quickly from white into  green.
Rainfall can vary; each few hundred years
A world beating storm without warning appears,
Whole districts are flooded and millions may drown,
Before the high levels of water go down.
It happened in China not too long ago,
And dealt the whole country a terrible blow.
Europe has also seen terrible storms,
Which deviate far from the continent's norms.
North Africa once was the source of the grain,
Which fed southern Europe; but here yet again,
The climate has changed, and a desert now stands
In place of what used to be prime fertile lands.
The famed North West Passage was in the past  free
Of the ice that now covers that cold Arctic sea.
England was once so much warmer than now,
With summers that up in the north would allow
The grapes to all ripen, producing good wines,
But nowadays the climate is too cold for vines.
Droughts have occurred throughout history and so
It's nothing unusual if rivers don't flow
Since rain hasn't fallen for many a year
And most of the land of all grass is now clear.
The truth is that climate's not static at all,
Temperatures rise and then temperatures fall;
So with the rainfall, the sunshine and snow,
The storms and the winds which so regularly blow.
They've done so for thousands of years in the past,
So today's climate can't be expected to last.
But will certainly change, though today we can't know
The direction in which all the changes will go.

Toddlers should have Reins

It really doesn't take much brains
To see that toddlers should have reins
Which have the great advantage that
They help to see they don't get fat.
Instead of sitting in a pram,
They can gambol like a lamb,
Safely held so they can't stray,
Getting exercise each day,
Which will help to make them strong,
Being active all day long.
There's also something else that's true,
That they'll become more tired than you,
And when their bedtime comes around,
They'll close their eyes without a sound.

Cycling in the Countryside

The wind's in my hair as I poodle along,
Feeling so healthy and active and strong.
I look all around as I slowly go by,
Viewing the woods and the fields and the sky.
I hardly need pedal, the road is so flat,
So cycling is easy - I'm grateful for that,
For I can then concentrate on other things,
The joy that a day out of doors always brings
The sound of birds singing, the mooing of cows,
The sight of a meadow that's full of bright flowers,
Squirrels and rabbits which scamper around,
Perhaps in the distance a tractor's faint sound.
There's nothing to beat a day spent out of doors,
Cycling along with enough time to pause
And simply enjoy all the nice clean fresh air
And all of the good things that one can see there.

Christians in the Middle East

For two thousand years they have lived in the lands
Where Jesus once walked, but their history now stands
At a crossroads, where they may be forced to depart,
To move far away and to make a new start
In a place they'll be safe, where they still can adhere
To the faith of their fathers, without constant fear
Of murder and rape and enslavement for girls,
That in many cities around them now swirls.
For hundreds of years they had no wish to flee
And only have now since they wish to be free
To worship their Lord as they have in the past,
Out of the reach of their enemies' blast.
What does the future hold?   No-one can know,
But Christians who've fled now need somewhere to go
Where they can be certain that they will find peace,
And from persecution,a needed release.

Singing is Good for You

Singing is an easy way
To brighten up a dismal day,
Whether it's just in the bath
Or walking up the garden path,
Or while working in the house
Perhaps together with your spouse.
Wherever you decide to sing,
And make the air with music ring
It will enhance the way you feel,
Increase your happiness and zeal.

Too Large to See All

The world is a very varied place,
And most would agree it is the case
That none can possibly see it all
However long and far they trawl.
Just a continent is too much
For anyone to more than touch
A few of the things existing there,
Even if it's largely bare.
And when it's large and stretches far,
Its very size will tend to bar
The likelihood  they can explore
More than a bit of it before
Old age will finally descend
With working life brought to an end.
For every bit of land enshrines
A history that enquiring minds
Will almost surely want to climb
If only they can find the time.
And then there are the towns as well,
The places where the people dwell;
Each could involve a life-time's toil,
Excluding all the country soil.

Getting Down to Work

Time is passing quickly and still little has been done,
There's piles of things to get through that I haven't yet begun;
Like tackling all the cleaning that's been left for lack of time,
So now the flat has started to show definite signs of grime;
There's quite a lot of mending, which I really ought to do,
To make things last much longer, thus avoiding buying new.
The cupboards need a clear-out, getting rid of all the junk,
So there is space again where I can stow my largish trunk.
The curtains need a spring-clean, for they're looking rather brown,
But usually have to wait because they're awkward taking down.
There're letters to be written, which I should have done before,
But they like all the other things are just another chore.
The duvets should be washed again, before the season's out.
Some bathroom tiles need fixing - now where's the tin of grout?
One kitchen tap is leaking, and I really ought to try,
To mend it and so stop the drips before the year goes by.
There's so much needing doing, that that it really seems to me
Before I start I really need a nice hot cup of tea.

Making the Most of Winter

Though the days are dark and dreary, and the evenings even worse,
That's no reason why a person shouldn't still themselves immerse
In everything they did in summer, when the days were warm and bright,
Going out both in the daytime, and as often in the night.
Rather than just hibernating till the spring comes round again,
Make the most of every minute, ignoring cold and snow and rain

Left and Right

I don't understand how one firmly ascribes
The terms left or right to political tribes,
For most are quite mixed in the views that they hold'
Their leaders would certainly if they were polled
Profess their support without shadow of doubt,
For things that their party should not be about
If they were the heirs of the left or the right,
And kept all their former ideals still in sight.
Higher wages for workers? That surely should fall
In a leftist remit, and not right wing at all,
But the question of wages can be double edged
And some right wing parties are quite firmly pledged
To improving the lot of the whole working class,
Demanding improvements that far would surpass
The claims of the left, who would naturally seem
The focus of most of the workforce's dream.
Then there is capital; there on the left
Are many rich people who don't see as theft
The taking of profits the workers have made,
Who don't feel ashamed of the fortunes they're paid.
It's said that the right favours foreigners out,
With people who're always quite willing to shout
That jobs should be their's and not taken by those
Who come from abroad; they would like to impose
Restrictions on anyone coming to stay,
So virtually all would be kept far away.
But left leaning parties can also agree
They don't want more people, for they clearly can see
They're certainly likely to take every job
That's fairly unskilled, and that would soon rob
The locals of work that they always have done,
Which often might mean they were left then with none.
Rather than using the terms left and right,
Perhaps we should constantly keep in our sight,
The fact manifestos will often collide,
But also quite often they stand side by side.

Improving Heating for the Elderly

Tens of thousands of elderly people die each winter form lack of heat,
Faced with the fact if they turn up the fire they won't have the money for something to eat.
For so many houses and flats in this country are not designed to keep out the cold,
Something that's fine for the young and the healthy, but can be a problem for those who are old.
The cost of heating in winter's horrendous: only the well-off can simply ignore
The way every year from the onset of winter, all energy bills start immediately to soar.
Those who are fit can just put on more clothing and keep themselves warmer by moving about,
But that's not an option for most older people whose frailty means that they never go out.
What's needed for houses is  they should be draught-proof, with good insulation to keep the heat in,
While at the same time an assessment of costings for heating all old people's homes should begin.

Shopping with Friends

I hate going shopping with friends who are slow
When it comes to deciding on where we should go,
Partly because they can't make up their mind
Exactly what items they're hoping to find.
And then when we get there we enter each shop
And almost inevitably take time to stop
And look at each counter for ages before,
Making our way through the rest of the store.
Hours are soon wasted, with nothing being bought,
With me on the verge of becoming quite fraught.
When I go out shopping I like to move fast,
In and out of each shop before minutes have passed;
I know what I want, and my outlook is based
On the premiss I really have no time to waste
On looking at things which perhaps catch my eye
But which I have certainly no thought to buy.

Christmas Carols

There's something uplifting which dwells in the sound,
Of carols being sung, as each Christmas comes round;
The words are familiar, as over the years
The music has wafted in everyone's ears.
Much of it jolly and easy to sing,
With words emphasising the message they bring.
Then there are others whose haunting notes tell,
The story of Christmas we all know so well.
Others are rousing, and easily could stand
As pieces designed for a lively brass band.
Whatever the music, their purpose is clear -
Proclaiming a message as Christmas draws near
With scope for strong voices to make themselves heard,
Ensuring that people can hear every word.

Kurdish Girl Soldiers

It's mistaken to think only men wish to fight
To keep safe their homeland, defend what is right,
For women too know just how much may be lost,
And they like their men are aware of the cost
Of not doing anything if they're attacked;
Many girls know quite well that they also must act
To see that their culture and creed do not die,
Crushed by an enemy while they stood by
Not doing anything, till 'twas too late,
With no option left but accepting their fate.
One sees in the Kurdish girls fighting beside,
Their brothers in arms, to help turn back the tide
Of those who'd destroy them and make them all slaves,
Women who'd much rather go to their graves
Knowing their efforts had helped to achieve
Promotion of ideals in which they believe.

Achieving Happiness

Some people aren't happy unless they receive
All that they want, for they cannot believe
That they could be happy with anything less,
And so very often their life is a mess.

Their wants are so great, they'll be rarely fulfilled,
And increasing desires will not ever be stilled;
And so they're unhappy, for always it seems
They never succeed in achieving their dreams.

But if they accepted they don't need it all,
The list of their needs changed from large down to small,
Within a short time they might easily find
Happiness rests very much in the mind

A Room lit by Candles

Candles give off a most welcoming glow,
And on the whole room candles help to bestow
A feeling of peace, as each little cream flame
Helps light the room; lamps just aren't the same.

The light they provide is so gentle and soft,
Rising from flames that are reaching aloft;
They flicker and twist in the slightest of breeze,
Return to being upright with just the same ease.

And candles are linked to the worship of God,
Reminding us all of the path Jesus trod;
They signify more than the light that they give,
Pointing the way to how people should live.

Your Life can be Cheap

Your life can be cheap if you haven't been born,
The choice of a mother whose heart wouldn't mourn
The fact you weren't given the chance to arrive
Into the world, at full term and alive.

Five hundred years in the past it was known
A baby was separate; they would not condone
Executions of women until they were sure
It was one they were killing, and not two or more.

But today in most countries the law there now bows
By strange logic down to a view that allows
The mother and child to be thought of as one;
All rights are the mother's; the baby has none.
It's part of her body, despite all we know,
And accepted as fact since those days long ago;

How can it be that ideas have gone back,
And so many people today seem to lack
The power to see clearly what people once knew,
A baby and mother are not one, but two.

An Artist's Life

The numbers are few
Of artistic types who
Can manage to earn a great deal;
For most their life's way
Forever will stay,
Where they worry about their next meal.

For even the great,
Who lived to create
Were not in their life-time well-paid;
And it wasn't until
They passed over the hill
And were dead, that their fortunes were made.

Retirement Home

 Little cottage by the sea,
That I think's the place for me,
Which I hope I shall acquire,
When the time comes to retire.

A little garden packed with flowers
Where I could just sit for hours,
Time that would always be well spent
Enjoying every sound and scent.

Cosy rooms with lights aglow,
In the winter, in the snow,
With an atmosphere of peace,
Which I hope would never cease.,

The Peacemakers

Peace is so precious; there's  always a need
For people whose vision is simply to lead
The world to a place where a new way of life,
Banishes violence and all forms of strife.

People who try every way that they can,
To calm all the anger that lives within man;
People who work hard to make others see.
There's no need to fight though they cannot agree.

People who seek to show all how to live
In a world where's it's perfectly normal to give
Instead of just taking from everyone round,
With little compassion or love to be found.

People who bring a conciliatory word,
Which seems to the violent to be quite absurd,
To all situations where trouble could flare,
But may be prevented because they are there.

People whose aim to to bring about peace,
Who pray every day that all conflicts may cease;
And man may yet live in a world where at last,
Terror and hatred are things of the past.

Email versus Letters

Email's very handy if you need a quick reply,
When something must be forwarded before the hour's gone by;
It's useful for informing those who always talk too much;
A brief and succinct email is a way to keep in touch
Without the need to get bogged down in all their endless chat,
When you really haven't time to get involved in that.
It also has the benefit of being completely free,
Something that's important, as most people would agree.
But though it's so convenient, I quite firmly still believe,
A letter coming in the post is nicer to receive.

Cupid's Arrows

The spark of love can quickly appear
Whenever two young people find it clear
They see in the other a kindred soul -
Cupid's arrow have hit their goal.

At work or at play, four eyes can meet
Or maybe just passing in the street,
And something happens, a flame is lit -
Cupid's arrows have made a hit.

The interest is kindled, from which can flow,
A life-long love which will grow and grow.

If One Could Start Anew

We all have our dreams of the things we would do,
If given the change we could start life anew;
A different career would be high on the list,
For so many realise too late that they've missed
The  chance to do something that they would enjoy
Where they all their talents could better deploy.
Another might want with no shadow of doubt
To study the subjects on which they've missed out.
Others might never have married their spouse
Or spent such a fortune on buying a house.
Everyone know many things they would change,
If only existed some way to exchange,
The stage in their life that they're currently at
For a date in the past; for this would mean that
That after the start of that chosen day
Their lives could be lived in a different way,

Weekday Mornings

On weekdays I follow a well-tried routine -
Those who are working can picture the scene;
Leap out of bed, a quick wash and then dress,
All of which takes up five minutes or less.
Kettle on, toast in, quickly make lunch,
All can be done when it comes to the crunch,
In less than ten minutes, with five left to eat,
A minimal breakfast; no time for a treat.
Put on coat, grab my bag, fly out of the door,
Just as I've done all those mornings before.

Instant Attraction

Amongst all the crowd in the train she stood out,
Her presence so striking I wanted to shout,
"Turn your eyes this way, and lock them to mine,
Or give me this moment just some sort of sign
You've noticed my presence, and feel the same way;"
Perhaps by a miracle this is the day,
When true love arrives and life won't be the same,
For meeting a soul-mate ignites a bright flame
Which brings about changes and makes people feel
Everything round them is so much more real.

Outdoor Sport in Winter

As winter approaches and days become short,
Ended are evenings devoted to sport,
Except for the things that can take place indoors;
To see why one only needs take a brief pause,
And think just how many in these northern shores
Finish their work before daylight has gone,
And darkness of night everywhere has moved on,
Covering all, so there's no chance to play
After a person's been working all day.
The long winter nights very simply destroy
The chance for most workers to go and enjoy
Spending their evenings outside in fresh air,
Gaining much exercise while they are there.
They're limited just to the weekends till spring's
Arrived with the much lighter evenings it brings.

The Sales

The shops in the High Street are having their sales,
Something which everyone hopes never fails
To bring out the buyers, all eager to find
Exactly the item which they had in mind
Offered for sale at a much reduced price;
For bargains are something which help to entice
People to buy, since the price is so low;
They leave with their goods, with their faces aglow.
But often they buy just because things are cheap;
And shopkeepers know very well that they'll reap
An excellent return on the seconds they've bought
To offer at prices they feel people ought
To be tempted to buy, if they want them or not,
Especially if placed at a prominent spot.
Of course in the sales excellent deals can be found,
But phoney reductions will always abound.

I Might Have been

Both my parents were intelligent
And well educated,
As were all my grandparents
And great grandparents.
Doctors, scientists, professors,
Architects, writers, economists,
All abounded in my family.
My father went to Oxford
And gained a First.
Then he became an international lawyer,
With a huge multi-national firm,
Travelling the world,
Living a life that most people can only dream of.
He loved it.
My mother went to Cambridge
And also gained a First.
She'd gone into banking
And was a rising star,
Tipped to reach the top.
Vice President?
President?
Everything seemed within reach.
She worked terribly hard,
With long hours,,
And intense pressure.
But she was ambitious
And her job was her life.
The one evening she drank too much
Forget to take her pill
And I came into being.
At first she couldn't believe it.
Babies weren't included in the vision they had for the future.
They discussed me.
Endlessly.
And decided that there was no way I could come into their lives.
They'd just bought a new house,
Which cost the earth;
They'd booked next year's safari holiday;
My mother was in line for a big promotion;
A baby would ruin her prospects;
My father didn't feel he was ready for the responsibility of a child;
And anyway, he spent weeks at a time abroad;
They'd have to give up most of their social life;
No more exciting holidays all over the world;
They had lots of plans for the future,
But none of them included me.
So I would have to go.
Perhaps I would have grown up to become a doctor
And discover a cure for cancer,
Perhaps I would have become a famous musician,
Or the inventor of a product that would improve many people's lives,
A teacher who would inspire thousands of children;
A peacemaker who would draw people together and stop wars.
No-one will ever know what I might have grown up to be
Neither me nor my parents or anyone else
For I was not allowed to live
To find out.

Winter Sun on the Snow

The sun is shining brightly now across the snowy fields,
The sort of gentle winter sun whose presence often yields,
A scene whose beauty far exceeds the snow just on its own,
Causing it to take on board a soft and creamy tone.
Its rays are not enough to melt the snow that's on the ground,
But are enough to make their mark and cause it to be crowned
With just a touch of colour to enhance the purest white,
And make the peaceful snowy fields an even prettier sight.

Luxury Housing

There're plenty who seek out new sites that are free,
For them to develop, for that is the key
To making a fortune, in London at least,
For house and flat prices for years have not ceased
To increase near daily; there's much to be made
By all those involved in the property trade.
Luxury houses today are the rage,
To buy which requires an extremely high wage,
Which most normal people can never attain,
So all hopes of purchase will end up in vain.
So they're sold to the wealthy and used to provide
Holiday homes, while they usually reside
Somewhere else in the world, so it's really quite rare
For someone to be actually resident there.
And while they are empty, huge numbers await,
The chance to be able at last to create
A home that is their's for the rest of their days,
Rather than yet one more short passing phase,

The Need for Children

Babies are a precious thing, and they are always needed;
Advice to have just one or none should largely go unheeded;
For that would mean the time would come when most were very old
With no-one young to work and pay - a sad sight to behold.
For it's a fact and one which every person now should know
A country needs a constant stream of children who will grow
To take the place of those who've aged and can no longer work;
In countries without children many dangers soon will lurk.
For there'll be many people needing help of every kind,
And with a shortage of the young, they'll very quickly find
There are too few to work and pay for all those who've retired;
A generation of the young is what is now required,
Which they'd have had if only they had valued children more
And in their youth been happy to be blessed with three or four.

The Difference Being Born Makes

Thirty weeks I'd been around

And still no-one really wanted me

Just for myself, as I was.

Not my dad;

He'd just said "Get rid of it"

When my mother told him,

"It's me or it."

She hesitated,

And he walked out.

Out of her life

And mine.

My mother liked the idea of a perfect baby,

Beautiful and smiling,

Someone who'd adore her unconditionally.

Then she found out

That I wasn't perfect.

I had a club foot 

And a cleft palate.

I wouldn't be beautiful

When I was born.

So she decided

To get rid of me.

Just like that.

She didn't want a baby that wasn't perfect,

So she started making arrangements.

What could I do?

There was only one way out.

To be born.

Babies decide when they want to be born.

I decided the time was now.

I was still still small,

And really needed the extra time in the womb.

But it was now or never.

When I arrived the doctors and nurses looked at me.

They didn't seem worried 

About my club foot and cleft palate.

"We'll soon fix those," I heard them say.

"No problem these days."

My mother still didn't want me,

An imperfect baby,

But others did.

Crowds of them.

To them I was beautiful

With just some minor faults

That could be easily fixed.

I was lucky,

I got out in time.

Others have not been so lucky,

They were still too small to be born,

Or didn't realise the urgency.

But why should it make such a difference

Whether we're in the world or still in the womb?

We are still babies

And should have the right to live,

And be treated just like others who aren't completely  perfect.

A Baby's Worth

To many a baby has little worth,
Until the day it comes to birth;
Before that time it has no rights,
It has no day, just endless nights
Unprotected by the law;
But in this view there is a flaw,
For birth is just another stage,
Occurring at nine months of age
From the time it first began,
As evidenced by every scan.
It's human from the very day
When it started on its way
From conception to its death;
Life didn't start at its first breath,
But from the time it was conceived
And in that moment it achieved
The status of a person who
Is still extremely small and new
But is a person, who in time
Will through all life's stages climb.
So if a baby once it's born
Can't be just dismissed with scorn,
Surely it is only just
A child within the womb still must
To treated how all would agree,
Applies to babies they can see.

Weddings

A wedding marks a point in life
When young girl changes into wife,
And young man is no longer free -
A husband he will henceforth be.

From being two they now are one,
And life together has begun;
With all the changes that involves
As round each other life revolves.

No longer is it right that they
Simply do things their own way
But must consider now the fact
They should consult before they act.

But with this change in circumstance,
A married couple have the chance,
To grow in love as through the years,
They share their joys as well as tears.

Evil Men

Some men it seems are evil; they are lacking any sense
Of what it's to be human; they see terrible events
As preferable to others which bring joy to all around;
Their view of good and evil will quite frequently be found
To be completely opposite to the views of normal souls,
With hurting and not caring being the focus of their goals.
They like to boast they're brutal, and enjoy the life they lead;
Depravity to them is just a normal human need.
They can't conceive within their heads how other people feel,
Their hearts though beating normally are often hard a steel.
Why are some men like that?  It's really hard to tell,
And it's not the sort of subject on which people like to dwell.

Buying Christmas Presents

The time has come around again
When one spends endless hours in vain
Searching for presents that one can give
To someone who will never forgive
Still once more some soap or socks,
The usual biscuits or Christmas chocs.
And what do you buy for an elderly aunt
Who's dearly loved, but certainly can't
Be given the same old thing again
When she's made it clear she has a yen
For something different to make her feel
She's young again and full of zeal.
And uncle who's well past his prime
And says he wants no gifts this time,
But you're aware he secretly,
Expects you to ignore his plea.
And then the children, who want to much,
They really are quite out of touch
With what things cost; though they're adored,
Their favoured gifts you can't afford.
Parents too can be a pain,
If they produce the sad refrain
"I don't want anything at all",
Knowing that you will not fall
To taking them literally at their word,
And acting just on what you've heard.
Problems can arise with friends,
Where often giving soon descends
To swapping soaps and scents and creams -
Hardly the stuff of Christmas dreams.
But if this all sounds very true,
Perhaps there's something you can do
Ignore them all; this year be bold
Give vouchers to both young and old.

Falling Leaves

The streets are awash with a carpet of brown
And yellow and gold as the leaves tumble down,
Helped by the winds that so frequently blow,
And through the trees' branches so rapidly flow,
Detaching the leaves with the force of their strength,
Making them fly along all the street's length.
They're whipped up in piles where they meet with a wall;
It's rare that they stay in the place where they fall.
If it rains they quite quickly turn glassy to tread,
Something pedestrians soon come to dread.
But soon they are gone, as the winter comes round,
And pavements with white can expect to be crowned.

The Need for Truth

When out of the window concern for truth flies
A great many problems will quite soon arise,
For truth is the one thing that helps to ensure
That honesty, knowledge and facts will endure.
If people are frightened to state what they know,
The number of lies that abound will soon grow,
As truth is supplanted by what won't offend
And most people follow the popular trend.
At least when in public; they may when alone
Admit to a truth which is not just their own.
But accepted by others still able to think
Who've looked at the facts, but drawn back from the brink
Of telling the truth, for they know this might cause
Offence to some people, and may break some laws.
Dictators often love lies over truth,
Knowing that they can deceive much of youth
Who haven't the knowledge to see through their lies
And how they're complicit in truth's sad demise.
It's only by keeping truth firmly in view
With free speech as normal, the thing that is due
From all in authority, though they might feel
A few untrue statements  has much more appeal.

The Results of Faith

Faith makes a difference to how one behaves
The things that don't matter, the things that one craves;
Money is not the sole object in sight,
But rather attempting to do what is right.
The power to control is not actively sought,
And a bribe will not bring in a good man's support;
Faith demands honesty, truth and not lies,
So thoughts of deception should never arise.
For faith means that this life is not all there is
And one must remember that we are all His.

December

December is a time when all
From babes just managing to crawl
To those whose hair has long been grey
Can go to something every day.
Pantomimes are everywhere,
performed with all the usual flair,
Cinderella, Puss in Boots,
The sort of thing that soon refutes
The idea that no-one want to go
To see what's really a children's show.
Carols have an honoured place
And very often form the base
Of concerts where the venues ring
With joyful sounds as people sing.
And then a lot of churches run
A carol service which is fun,
With loads of readings and carols too,
Sung by all, not just the few.
Skating rinks too now appear,
Their icy surfaces hard and clear
Where every one can try their hand
At joining the expert skaters' band.
Then there are the Christmas fairs,
Based in halls or market squares,
All with lots of things to buy
Arranged to catch the shopper's eye.
Also there are Christmas lights
Twinkling through the days and nights
Hung in shops on looped round trees,
Sometimes moving in the breeze.
There's always so much going on,
December is so quickly gone,
And dreary January arrives
With little to brighten people's lives

Snowflakes

The first little snowflakes come fluttering down
To form dots of white on a carpet of brown;
They come down in silence to land on the earth,
Without any bangs or loud chuckles of mirth.
They float through the air without making a sound,
And equally silently fall on the ground.
On calm winter days when the wind doesn't blow
There's something quite moving about falling snow.

Coal Fires

The smell of coal brings memories back,
Of orange flames among the black
of lumps of coal stacked in the grate,
Lit from early until late.
A smell that's destined to invoke
Thoughts of the ever-present smoke
That smokeless fuel did much to stop,
Making its levels greatly drop.
Coal fires were very much a part
Of people's lives, right from the start;
They still remind one of the days
When heating meant a cheerful blaze.

Poppy Selling

I take my poppies and empty tin,
With my handy tray to put them in;
Think of the time and then select
The place where I feel it's best to collect.
Sign myself in and choose my spot,
The one where I think I will sell a lot.
Twirl a poppy in the air,
With all an experienced seller's flair,
For this very simple act
People's notice will attract.
Smile a lot and be polite,
Always looking nice and bright.
Most people will just hurry by
And none could hope to catch their eye.
Others have a bit more time,
But giving doesn't with them chime.
Others, and sometimes the most
Are just so totally engrossed
In texting, they are unaware
That there are other people there.
Glazed eyes are such a common sight
And ear phones also help to blight,
Awareness of the world around,
Cut off from all external sound.
Then one stops, and I promptly say
The cost of all that's in my tray,
Hoping that they'll buy a pin,
And put more money in my tin.
Some are generous, some are mean,
But most lie somewhere in between.
Some think that everything is free,
While others offer just five pee,
Most however give a pound;
Occasionally there comes around
Someone who puts in much, much more,
The sort or client I adore.
For notes weigh nothing, and my tin
Gets heavier as each coin goes in.
I have no finish time as such,
But when my tin weighs far too much
I close my tray and then sign out,
Though I'll be back next day no doubt.

I Need a Nom de Plume

In the past many writers did not achieve fame
Until they decided to use a new name;
Even the Brontes were forced to resort
To nom de plumes so that their novels were bought.
So what shall I call myself?  With so much choice;
Perhaps in a French name I now should rejoice.
Or maybe a Scottish one, starting with Mac,
Would help set my writing along the right track.
Perhaps I should go for one syllable long,
Something that sounds rather forceful and strong.
A name that's poetic and trips off the tongue,
One which would really sound much better sung.
Something that;s old and is nowadays classed
As dating right back several centuries past.
A spot of Italian might add to my charms,
And certainly wouldn't raise any alarms.
Or maybe exotic - a name from the East,
Something which might be remembered at least.
It's so hard to choose from the thousands out there,
I've now got the feeling  it's not really fair
For I don't really know what the publishers seek,
What type will sound strong, while another sounds weak.

Sunday Mornings

Out of bed I slowly climb
At the usual weekday time,
Put on kettle and bread for toast,
They take five minutes at the most.
Just time enough for Morning Prayer
Before I have my breakfast fare.
A leisured bath and wash my hair,
Decide which outfit I will wear.
Get the Sunday paper next,
Briefly scan the front page text;
Off to Mass when I hear the bell,
A familiar sound I know so well.
Home again for Sunday lunch -
I don't go in for Sunday brunch.
After that what I like best
Is just to have a little rest.

The Council's Saving Money

The Council's saving money so the street lights now are dim,
Which makes our long road dark and in the winter rather grim;
The rubbish isn't collected twice a week as 'twas before,
But only on a single day when there is so much more.
No skips appear at all thee days so everyone is faced
With problems getting rid of all unwanted larger waste;
The street's not swept as regularly as happened in the past,
There's lots of litter lying round when it is cleaned at last.
They say we're very luck getting anything at all,
But I wonder how much waste occurs within our nice Town Hall.

Women and Sport

Some cultures are adamant no woman ought
To take any part in an organised sport;
They think such activities solely belong
To men, and for women they're totally wrong.
They can't understand sport's a good thing for all
And women as well can hear clearly the call
To play in a team, to be part of a crowd,
And it's really outrageous if they're not allowed
In this modern age, where it's well recognised,
And really it can't be too much emphasised
That women like sports and the chance to do well,
And there's many an area where they excel;
Not only that but all know there's a wealth
Of research that shows it is good for their health.
But still there are some who have not thought it through
And go on retaining their outdated view.

Love at First Sight

Their eyes met for only a second, but that was all they required
For a spark in their hearts to be lighted, for both to feel inspired
To arrange for another meeting, a chance to get to know
More of the other person, with space for romance to grow.
With no time to linger at that point, they passed on their numbers in hast,
Hoping this might lead to something on which a new love might be based;
And so it transpired in the future; their instant impression was right,
For romance grew out of that meeting; it'd truly been love at first sight.

The Presence of Love

Love's presence manifests itself in many varied ways,
For there's a host of aspects to the message it conveys,
Depending on the context and the people who're involved,
The way in which throughout the scene its present is dissolved;
It can mean acts of kindness to a stranger who's in need,
Random generosity instead of selfish greed;
Thoughtfulness to others in a world where that is rare,
Can contain the message love is clearly present there;
Caring for the poor and sick, with no thought of reward
Can evidence a heart in which deep love has clearly soared.
The cheery word, encouragement, extended helping hands,
Display the character of one who follows love's demands;
There are so many ways in which love's presence can be shown,
And also many ways in which its presence can be known.

Love Binds Together

Love is the glue that binds
People whose hearts and minds
Are tuned together;
It covers all the cracks
Made by what each one lacks
Whatever life's weather.

Love is needed in life,
To counter all the strife
That's everywhere;
Its presence fosters calm,
And there is less alarm
When love is there.

Taking Children for Walks

Maybe children should be taken
Out for walks to keep them fit,
For it doesn't cost a penny -
There's no need for special kit.
Even within central London,
Pretty walks are easily found;
All one needs to do to find them
Is get a map and look around.
London's full of grass and greenery,
Public parks are everywhere;
It doesn't matter where you're living,
Within a mile there'll be one there.
Most are crossed by paths for walking,
Or you can enjoy the grass;
With a landscape like the country,
Time will very quickly pass.
There's the path along the river
Stretching on for mile on mile,
Where you can just keep on walking
Or sometimes stop and rest a while.
Walks can take in quieter back streets,
Where the passing cars are few,
With a chance to stop and linger,
Savouring whatever's new.
There are also woody commons
Where the trees shut out the sun,
Places with so much to offer
Which walkers really shouldn't shun.
There's no reason London children,
Can't be taken for a walk,
Which will make them so much fitter,
As well as giving a chance to talk.

Toy Shops

At Christmas shops are full of toys
Aimed at little girls and boys;
Pretty dollies dressed in pink,
With curly hair and eyes that blink;
Dolls which utter baby cries,
Teddy bears with tartan ties;
Plastic ducks for bathtime fun,
Brightest yellow, like the sun;
Model trains which chug along,
Cuddly toys which play a song;
Meccano sets and jigsaws too,
Games and puzzles, old and new;
Drums and whistles there abound,
And small pianos with tinny sound;
Sets of coloured paints and pens,
Balls for playing with their friends;
Lots of cars and aeroplanes,
Tractors, ships and metal cranes;
Throughout a toyshop there are piled
Stacks of things fore very child.

Bureaucracy

And there is little chance that it will ever go away,
For all throughout man's history it always has been true,
That rulers like to keep control of all their people do.
When people were illiterate 'twas often still the case
Dealing with officials was a thing they had to face;
Desire to exercise control since then has never ceased,
And it has grown from year to year as literacy increased.
And so today in every state it has become the norm
That thousands of activities demand some sort of form
Complete with lists of questions, which grow longer every year,
As if the rulers of the state live constantly in fear
Their power would quickly be reduced if people were allowed
To live their lives without the rulers' all-embracing shroud.
Computers and cheap printing both have helped promote the scale
Of government intervention, making past attempts look pale.
And then  of course bureaucracy .needs bureaucrats to run
The larger civil service, to ensure the work is done.
So the government hires more people so they have sufficient staff
For all the work it now it requires be done on its behalf.
Life was so much simpler when the government touch was light
With many living out the lives outside their ruler's sight.

Hair Fairness

It really, really isn't fair,
Some girls have awful problem hair,
When men who wear theirs very short,
Are born with shining locks; the sort
That would look gorgeous on a girl,
Who'd really like her hair to curl,
And not fall lankly from her head,
Looking like it was half-dead,
But rather cascade down in waves,
Thick and dark, so it behaves
Like well-bred hair, which makes her look
Like something in a fashion book.

Peace would be Good

There is little chance that we
Within our lifetimes here shall see
A world where only peace will reign,
A world delivered from the stain
Of constant wars and civil strife,
Where evil aims and deeds are rife,
Which in the past has been the case,
Marring the lives of the human race.
How much nicer it would be
Were our world to be set free
From all the violence that occurs
In this present life of hers.

Wandering in the Fields

I love to wander through the fields
Savouring all the country yields.
The chirp of crickets in the grass,
Which just continues as I pass.
The sight of butterflies in the air,
Which often make me stop and stare
At all the colours in  their wings -
They really are such pretty things.
The little streams which slowly flow,
The reeds that in their waters grow.
The scent of flowers, so sweet and strong,
Assailing my nose as I walk along.
Also welcome is the sound
Of the buzzing bees as they flit around.
Small  birds singing in bush and hedge
Which grow along each meadow's edge.
Then the sound from a distant source
Of mooing cow and neighing horse.
All country sights and sounds and smells,
Which to many people spells
A life now overtaken by
The modern world; but still they sigh
For a life that's simpler, that seems more real
A life where everyone can feel
They're closer to nature and the earth,
And everything to which this gives birth.

Building Sites

Wherever you look around London at present
Signs of new building work catches your eye;
New projects are starting all over the city,
Their numbers increasing as each day goes by.

Old buildings are knocked down, reduced to mere rubble,
Creating a space to erect something new,
For there's pressure on land and so little that's empty
For sites never built on in cities are few.

Tall fences guard many sites like a prison,
Keeping out people who might wander in;
Often erected as soon as is possible,
Long before work there is planned to begin.

The buildings rise upward as each floor is added,
Looking as if they are seeking the sky,
Many are tall because space is so limited,
Rising to twenty or more storeys high.

At night you can see graceful cranes reaching skywards
Visible easily with red lights aglow.
Making a statement against the sky's blackness,
Towering above the new building below.

Finding A Copy Holder

I've found that it is hard to find
A copy holder that's designed
To stand beside my nice P.C.
With copy held where I can see.
No retail outlet seems to sell
These items which have served so well
All the typists from the past,
Helping keep their speeds so fast.
It's seems today you must rely
On websites if you want to buy
A copy holder, only there
Can they be found, though very rare.
But I'm the sort who likes to see
How an item looks to me.;
A catalogue just cannot show
All the things I need to know.
Sign holders are for different things
But from a problem invention springs,
A slanted one came from a shop;
With bulldog clip across the top
A copy holder it's become
And I'm no longer feeling glum.

The 3G Household

Suggestions now that it would be good
If greater numbers of people could
Take in their parents when they're old,
Maybe when their house is sold,
Rather than putting them away
In a nursing home to stay,
Are nothing new, for in the past,
People would have been aghast
At letting their parents blithely go
Into a home, for that would show
They didn't care what people said
About the kind of life they lead.
And mothers often had the task,
Of babysitting; they could bask
In knowing that their role was clear;
With grannies there, there was no fear
That mothers could not go to work -
Her presence was a valued perk.
In recent years, all that has changed,
And older people have exchanged
A life of bringing up the young;
For spending all their time among
Their own age, for they live alone,
Trapped in the older people's zone.
But it would make so much more sense,
And save young parents much expense
If all three generations stayed
In one large house where all could aide
Each other and from that derive
A better life where all could thrive.

The Middle East

The Middle East's in such a mess
With millions living in distress;
The region is at present rent
With wars, uprisings and dissent.
All of which have one result
Whichever grouping is at fault.
Many people have to flee
For it is plain for all to see
Minorities have little hope
Knowing that they cannot cope
With all the persecution aimed
At them by people who're inflamed
With deadly hatred, and are bent
On killing all who might dissent
From their own view of faith and life,
And murders are extremely rife.

The problem may have started when
The land was carved up yet again,
With straight lines drawn across the map,
So faiths and peoples overlap.
Most countries have a varied mix
Which now'd be very hard to fix
Of different cultures, faiths and lives
In nations where each large group strives
To take control and be in power,
So their group only then can flower.

When weapons were in short supply,
Not many people dared to try
To oust the government by force -
Rebellion would be stopped at source.
But now the area is awash
With arms, so it is hard to squash
Planned rebellions as before,
So everywhere there's civil war.

The outcome of  this awful strife
Is not just major loss of life,
But whole societies breaking down,
With battles fought in every town.
Their homes destroyed, their income gone,
So many people must move on
And find a place which them can give
Somewhere they again can live
And build their lives, away from all
The hatred which engulfed them all.

Floral Displays

Flowers give a room such a feeling of friendliness
Adding their beauty to whatever's there,
Giving a sense it's a place that is lived in,
Even in rooms which are otherwise bare.

Their colours can vary from pure white to crimson,
Palest of cream to a deep mustard shade;
Purples and mauves and a wide choice of orange,
With blues that extend from a pale hue to jade.

Included there'll usually be some sort of greenery,
Feathery fronds to the tall, thick and straight,
Bringing their beauty along with their colour
To the pretty display that they help to create.

Women in Business

It so often happens that women are told
They shouldn't be forthright, determined or bolt,
But just sit and listen and let all the men
Discuss all the issues and plans once again.
To have an opinion and want to be heard
Is something that only from men is preferred;
The odd woman sitting there often may seem
A token and not a full part of the team.
Too often her views are ignored or put down,
Met with a laugh or dismissed with a frown.
But though in her efforts she's dismally failed,
Similar words from a man are then hailed
As brilliant, insightful and worthy of note,
His ideas deserving a positive vote.
It therefore should be within everyone's  goals,
That women fill half of all leadership roles.
For when they form half they will not be alone;
There'll always be back-up, and as it well known
It's harder to bully or put down a group
Or carefully ensure they're kept out of the loop.

A Woman for Party Leader

Next time the parties have to find
A leader, they might keep in mind
A woman could provide a change,
And there is surely quite a range
Of women who have all the skills,
And every one of whom fulfils
All the criteria a leader needs,
Both in their speeches and their deeds.

It's said that taller men do best,
Though height should never be a test
For leadership; it has no place
In any presidential race.
But if it's true that people choose
Tall candidates, then those who lose
Will more than often women be
For it is very plain to see
That though some women are quite tall,
On average they are rather small.

But being short has never meant
A person can't be competent;
Since they a powerful presence lack
They really need to have the knack
Of managing to get things done
And many larger folk outrun.

But often it's the loud and brash,
The type who always make a splash,
And think that they are born to lead,
Not thinking of their party's need,
But of their own ambitious ways,
And the money the new job pays.

Women tend to make less noise
Than the average ambitious boys;
Therefore they are much less seen
And sometimes airbrushed from the scene.

But parties choosing big, strong men
Perhaps next time should think again,
And choose a person on all that they
Can bring along on election day.

Sketching Fields

I love to sit outdoors and sketch

The grassy fields of green which stretch,

While interspersed with lines of hedge

Right up to the very edge

Where earth meets sky, and miles away,

Even on a hazy day.

I am also very glad

To see the fields completely clad

In heather and such other plants

Which also do not look askance

At barren rocks with little soil,

The sort of fields where plants must oil

To get a footing and to thrive,

Where others could not stay alive.

Equally I love to draw

The dark brown fields which just before

Have all been very neatly ploughed

In lines to make a farmer proud.

They stand there, ready for the seed

Which the fields each year still need

If they're to go on to provide,

Another crop next summer-tide.

Beggars

So many beggars on the streets,
The people one so often meets
Sitting there with arm outstretched
Holding a plastic cup they've fetched
From somewhere so that passersby
Can as they walk along supply
A steady stream of coins which they
Hope will grow throughout the day.

Some beggars ask for twenty pee
To buy themselves a cup of tea,
Even though it is the case
Though it is hard to find a place
Where one can buy a cup of tea
For any less than eighty pee.

Some have babies in their arms
Something which they hope disarms
The people who would pass them by
If they didn't attempt to try
And make them feel a pang of guilt
And their lack of pity wilt.

Some have very clearly sunk
Down to the level of always drunk;
No matter what the time of day
Their smell of beer and  gait display
That giving money is no use
Their problem's of alcohol abuse.

Many come from life in care,
A situation often where
They gained no skills to live alone,
Outside their care protected zone.

Others say they have no home
And on the streets are forced to roam.
Sometimes this may be quite true
For homelessness is nothing new
Among the young, who want to live
In cities which they hope will give
A more exciting life than they
Could find in small towns far away.
Reality then shows its face,
For cities often aren't the place
For people with no job of flat,
But many haven't realised that
Until they find themselves adrift,
With little hope that they can lift
Themselves out of the downward spin,
Reversing the current state they're in.
City life knowledge is often flawed,
Especially in those come from abroad.

For many it's not lack of wealth
But serious issues of mental health;
At one time most of them could cope,
But modern life gives them no hope.
For few jobs now will take account
Of the actual fact their skills amount
To very little, but they could still,
A limited role in work fulfil.

Some have an aggressive tone,
Especially to people who're alone;
They can intimidate and more,
Frightening the nervous to the core.
But usually beggars just sit there,
Often with a vacant stare,
Their attitude if anything
Pathetic more than threatening,

What can be done?  There would not seem
An easy way to achieve the dream
Of making sure that no-one feels
They have to beg to buy their meals.
It wouldn't be possible to arrange
A single solution, for beggars range
Across the width of human life,
With all its problems and constant strife.

Young Animals

Fluffy little chickens are a most endearing sight,
Along with baby ducklings, ones not old enough for flight.
Kittens have the sweetest look, when tiny balls of fur
Particularly when uttering  the tiniest little purr.
Puppies too are full of charm, their big eyes making sure
They have the look they know will make all children them adore.
Lambs and kids and calves and foals, there's something about them all
That makes them so attractive, not just that they are small.
The young of every species seems to have some special trait,
Some very special feature to which people can relate.

The Desire for Peace and Stability

They aren't concerned if it's their fate
A tyrant is their head of state;
Nor if one cannot criticise
The government, nor expose their lies.
Stability's their main concern,
Knowing that where're they turn,
There will be peace, with law upheld,
With every person's doubts dispelled
Concerning if the streets are safe;
The lack of freedom may often chafe,
But all in all they would prefer
A system set up to deter
All trouble that might soon arise,
If unchecked by government spies.
Freedom of speech may be severely curtailed,
With threats that are open or thinly veiled,
But many don't care, or they don't really mind,
Dissension is something they've left far behind.
News can be censored, with papers not free,
To print what they want to, whatever it be;
But everyone knows that and takes it on board,
Better some shackles that any discord.
Elections they know may be rigged from the start,
With only the dictator's friends taking part.
But as long as there's peace, there are few who'll complain,
Though many might hold the whole thing in distain.
In countries where several groups just co-exist,
A dictator's rule may in fact soon be missed,
For he has kept order and made sure that none,
Try to assert their own place in the sun.
And while there's stability, order and calm,
They know in their hearts there's no cause for alarm,
For they can get on with their jobs and their life,
Untroubled by ethnic or faith focused strife.
But with the demise of a dictator's reign,
It's likely that chaos will break out again.
And chaos is something nearly everyone fears
So they're happy to have a dictator for years.

The Power of Love

Love is the glue which binds together
People's relationships, one with another,
Whether as friend or partner or spouse,
Parent or cousin, aunt, uncle or brother.

If love is there lacking there's nothing to hold
People together if times become hard
And there's the temptation to simply move on,
And those that aren't useful to quietly discard.

But when love is present the picture is different,
Men are diverted from just their own needs,
And thinking of others are lead to express
The love in their hearts both in words and in deeds.

Love between people's essential if they
Are to live in a group and not just on their own,
For that is what binds them to take care of others
And not just consider their own wants alone.

Awaiting a Homecoming

With every hour that passes,
The time to wait grows less,
Until I have her in my arms,
To enjoy her sweet caress.

These months have been a burden
Of waiting longingly,
The time of her homecoming when
Her smiling face I'll see.

I'm proud of all she's done,
In the time she's been away,
And never would have wanted
That my love at home should stay.

But I count the days remaining
Until she will return,
And always in her absence,
My heart for her will burn.

To a Child Facing Winter in a Cold Country

It's very nearly time for boots, and scarves and mittens too,

For winter's round the corner and is on its way to you;

Not much longer can you dress in flimsy summer wear;

Those you'll need to ;put away when winter-time is there.

You'll need to wrap up warmly every time you go outside,

So you'll be well protected when on icy roads you slide.

But though it may be cold and dark with very little sun,

That doesn't mean that winter cannot also be great fun.

Vegetables

Delicious fresh cooked vegetables, their colours staring out,
Reminding one attractive food is what it's all about;
Carrots with their reddish hues and peas still emerald green,
White fleshed aubergines with skins wearing a purple sheen.
Tomatoes with their bright red skins and bright red flesh inside,
Leaks who wear their palest green with a certain sense of pride.
Beans in many varied shapes, with colours which can range
From black to brown or darkest green, or yellow for a change.
Onions which are usually white, but can be purple too;
Artichokes boiled in iron pots which can then turn bright blue.
Then there are orange coloured swedes, mashed or left alone,
Potatoes which though almost white still have a creamy tone.
Parsnips too can be quite pale, with just a yellow tinge,
Lettuces whose leaves disport a variegated fringe.
Radishes which white inside, still have a bright red skin,
Peppers which are red outside and also red within.
Spinach, spouts and curly kale all come in shades of green,
From fairly pale to very dark and all hues in between.
With all their many colours they are tasty things to eat -
A plate of well-cooked vegetables can really be a treat.

Meetings

Some people like to have meetings
To fill up the hours in the day,
To make life a little less boring,
Or give themselves something to say.

The like going into a room
And shutting the door to the world
Pretending that there in the meeting,
Ideas and decisions are swirled.

Many are quite fond of talking,
And meetings provide a nice place,
To sound off on all sorts of topics,
While met in a limited space.

No-one can get up and leave it
To do so would be very rude,
And if it's the boss who has called it,
They have to look focused and glued.

Meetings are often the joy
Of those who have little do do,
But like to take part in discussions
Propounding their own point of view.

But to those who've an intray that bulging,
Meetings can be a great strain,
Taking up time that is precious,
With little or nothing to gain.

They glance at their watches whilst hoping
The meeting will finish quite soon;
They know that they've work to be doing,
And begrudge they've a lost afternoon.

Lucky Sleepers

Some people are lucky;  their sleep can't be curbed;
No matter what happens they stay undisturbed,
Nodding off easily; not waking until
The clock interrupts with its call loud and shrill.
It seems that their brains have just not been designed
For spending hours sleepless with things on their mind.
No noises result in their snapping awake;
It'd have no effect if things started to shake.
They don't seem affected by mid-summer's heat,
When the temperature's such one needs only a sheet.
They can drop off to sleep even when over-tired,
Just closing their eyes when to sleep is desired.
And of course there's one positive thing that they reap -
Never feeling exhausted from losing their sleep.

A Lonely Shore at Evening

At evening time I sit on the beach
Out of range of the ebbing tide's reach;
The sand is still damp from the high tide before
Which makes its way regularly right up the shore.
The waves flow so gently with ripples of white,
Appearing like frills in the soft evening light.
The sea stretches outward for mile upon mile,
Slowing retreating away all the while.
A few boats are bobbing on top of the waves,
Enjoying a freedom which everyone craves
The bright sun surrounded by orange descends,
And now is just visible where the sea ends.
Darkness moves in with reduction of light,
As evening changes and turns into night.
All is so peaceful, with hardly a sound,
Except as the light crashing waves run aground.

Tudor Music

There's something distinctive about all the music
Composed in the days when there sat on the throne
The long line of Tudors whose love of good lyrics
Made sure that a great deal was written and known.

The instrument used were all simple and tuneful,
Nothing too large or with beats far too low;
Nothing too rapid or violent or clanging,
The music was usually designed to be slow.

But great use was made of the talents of singers,
Blending their voices through carious parts,
Producing together a sound that was heavenly,
Skilled as they were in the musical arts.

The music of Tudor times tells of a country
Where singing and dancing were just part of life,
Despite all the poverty which was endemic,
Compounded by problems of internal strife.

Noise in the City

In London it is difficult to get away from noise,
The constant hum of traffic hopes of silence soon destroys;
And then there are the aeroplanes criss-crossing overhead,
And circling helicopters, of which flights are now widespread.
The noise of all the people as they walk along the streets,
Often talking loudly, playing music with low beats.
The sound of endless sirens, whether ambulance or police,
Is something on a busy road that never seems to cease.
The noise from people's houses in the summer-time as they
Keep their windows open both at night and in the day.
The noises of trains and buses is just part of London life,
Another extra source of sound where noisiness is rife.
The noise from all the building sites so prevalent today
Which  it seems at present will not likely go away.
Always in a city there is constant noise around;
Only in the country peace and silence can be found.

Fashion

What is in fashion is constantly changing,
The fashions of this year will not be the same
As those in vogue last year, nor those coming next,
For bringing out new things's the name of the game.

The length of the hemline can vary quite quickly,
As seen in the past by the short time it took
To go from the mini skirt all girls were wearing
To maxi skirts aimed at the ankle length look.

Straight skirts or A line, or something between them.
Pleated or gathered or just wraparound;
With such a wide choice it is hardly surprising
That over the years every type can be found.

Colours keep changing; one year may be yellow,
And everything seems it's a shade of that hue,
But next year the fashion might move on to purple,
Or maybe to green or to red or to blue.

Cotton or linen or should clothes be woollen,
Or might manmade fibres this time be in style;
With so many fabrics there's plenty to chose from,
Each one with something designed to beguile.

Dresses in preference to matched skirts and blouses,
Quite neatly fitting, or giving more room;
Which of the two will be this year's high fashion,
Is something most people cannot just assume.

Bright patterned fabrics or one colour only,
Stripes, flowers or tartan to name just a few;
Which ones will make it to this season's outfits,
As people compete to produce something new.

Then there's the question of all the accessories,
Small little items that typically range
From Scarves, belts and broaches to silky pashminas,
Which often are used if one feels like a change.

Fashions keep changing, and one of the reasons
Lies in the fact that the shops have to try
To get us to buy a new wardrobe each season,
Not wearing the same as the years trundle by.