Ann Widdecombe for the House of Lords

Ann Widdecombe for the House of Lords would be an excellent choice;
They could only benefit from giving her a voice.
To scrutinise prospective laws and check what they contain,
Needs someone who has commonsense and doesn't lack a brain.
A person noted for her standards and who doesn't care a jot,
Whether people share her views and principles or not.
A person with integrity, who knows what she believes,
Who's not afraid to challenge all injustice she perceives.
A person who will always take the line of what is right,
And seeing something that is wrong, is not afraid to fight.
A person whose experience means that little now is new,
Who lets her Christian background be at all times within view.
Whose honesty is legend, and who doesn't tend to mix,
With anyone it's possible is up to dirty tricks.
Ann Widdecombe would seem to be the sort of person who,
Is needed in the House of Lords, for in that varied crew,
There's no-one like her, and she'd bring much sense to each debate,
So maybe she will be among the next peers they create.

Raindrops

Raindrops are falling from our of the sky,
Wetting my clothes and hair as they pass by,
To land with a plop on the pavement below,
Leaving a little dark splotch there to show
That they have arrived, to be followed by more
Till the marks on the pavement have reached several score..
Sometimes that is all; just a few raindrops land,
As if just a small shower was all that was planned.
Or they may quickly multiply, so that to all
It's obvious a great deal of rain's going to fall.

Home-made Food

Delightful smells drift through the air
Precursing some delicious fare,
Which currently is being prepared;
Naught ready-made can be compared
To dishes that are all home-made,
With fresh ingredients, without the aid
Of additives of any sort,
Which come in every food that's bought.
One can be sure with home-made food
Whether baked or fried or stewed,
The quality won't be in doubt,
With things that aren't quite right thrown out.
Home cooking may take time, et's true,
But it's more delicious and cheaper too.

Where I'd Like to Live

I want to live in a place with no crime,
With streets that are safe to walk all of the time;
A place where equality's just part of life,
And peace is the norm, with an absence of strife.
A place in which love and tranquillity grow,
And feelings of friendship throughout the world flow;
A place where there's plenty and no-one is poor,
Greed, envy and hatred exist there no more.
It may be a dream that will never come true,
But still it is one that I'll never eschew.

The Value of Independent Shops

It's always sad when small shops close,
For it is usually true that those
Are just what gives a different air
To any small town thoroughfare.
Without them high streets all would be
In every town an endless sea
Of signs and windows all the same;
It often would be hard to name
The town or village where you were,
The high street being just a blur
Of shops whose names are everywhere,
With nothing that's distinctive there.
But little shops are not alike;
Their presence always tends to strike
A chord in those who in the past,
Knew the high street where a vast
Array of shops, with owners there
Who over years had learned to care.
Now when any small shop's closed,
It doesn't matter who's opposed
To well-known brands then moving in,
With locals' views thrown in the bin.
We need our little shops to thrive
For only then can towns survive
With something which is their's alone,
Not just another high street clone.

Nurses' Working Hours

For many years the workers fought
To gain the eight hour day they thought
Was all that they should have to toil;
Most modern leaders would recoil
From ideas for a lengthened day,
And would be very quick to say
That after eight hours, people flag,
And concentration starts to drag;
The extra hours begin to irk
And minds are focussed less on work
Than waiting for the clock to chime
That at last it's leaving time.

So why did Britain's nurses choose
That precious eight hour day to lose
In favour of far longer shifts,
So long their concentration drifts
And by the end they're very tired,
No longer with devotion fired
To care for patients, see that they
Get the best of care each day.
For anyone who works long hours
Finds eventually that it sours;
Often they can't give their best
Because their bodies need to rest.
Much better for the patients' care,
That nurses spend just eight hours there,
Spread across a five day week,
So they're always at their peak.

Girls Coming Top in Exams

When girls got lower marks than boys in most of their exams,
Often it was just dismissed with "Oh, the poor wee lambs,
It isn't really fair on them to let them think they can
Absorb an education just as well as any man.
Their lower marks just prove the point, their little brains can't cope,
And most however hard they try can never really hope
To do as well as all the boys whose marks are at the top;
For they are not designed to learn and really ought to swap
Ideas of education for a far more natural role,
With most of them regarding being a housewife as their goal."

But when today it is the boys who're lagging well behind,
There's not a soul declaring that boys' brains are not designed
For more than simple learning, and they should accept their lot,
Trailing well behind the girls, who occupy the slot
Which in the past it long was thought they never could achieve
For up until quite recently few people would believe,
That given equal chances as the boys they'd sail ahead,
No longer at the bottom, coming top in class instead,

And now there are loud cries around that something must be done,
To stop the girls enjoying all the places in the sun;
There must be changes in the schools so boys' marks will improve,
Claiming that girls' higher marks do little more than prove
Exams and teaching nowadays are aimed at girls, not boys;
The current ethos in our schools quite frequently destroys
A boy's inherent interest and the way he likes to learn;
Resulting in their poor results, which are a real concern.

The Girl in the Cafe

His eyes lit up when he saw her face,

Sitting again in the corner place,

Far form the door and out of the way;

Always there it seemed each day

When he went for his lunch, as he worked nearby;

'Twas weeks ago she'd caught his eye,

A beautiful girl, with dark brown hair,

Tied in a bow sticking up in the air;

Her smooth white skin and serious smile

Captivated him all the while

He ate his lunch; it seemed that she

Only drank a cup of tea

And tapped away without a glance;

He wondered how he'd make the chance

To speak to her quite naturally,

For he'd already seen that she

Sat at a table set for one,

Almost as if she wanted to shun

The presence of other people there;

He idly wondered if he'd dare,

Just interrupt her as she wrote,

But then each lunchtime missed the boat.

And then he realised maybe she

Might one day no longer be

Sitting there when he arrived;

He'd forever be deprived

Of any chance to get to know

The one girl who impressed him so.

He decided there and then

That he would not just wait again

But go and speak; she raised her head,

Sweetly smiled at him and said:

"Do please sit down; my book's now done,

So I have time for everyone.

And as it is my last day here,

I'm really very pleased that we're

Talking and getting a chance to know

Each other now before I go."

He always felt it had been fate,

That made him speak before too late.

For soon they were a happy pair

And wedding bells were in the air.

Boston (U.K.)

Set as it is in the heart of the fens,

The land is flat; no hills or glens

Make up the country which surrounds

Boston and other Fenland towns.

The Church of St. Botolph goes back a long way

To thirteen o nine as the old records say;

But there was a church on the site long before,

Possibly dating from six fifty-four.

It's like a cathedral, reflecting the past,

When revenues  earned in the town were quite vast.

The Guild of Saint Mary was once very rich,

So they could afford a vast building in which

They worshipped and socialised up to the time

When Henry said being in a Guild was a crime;

It then changed its usage, became the Town Hall,

A Court and a gaol for all caught in a brawl.

It's now a museum, where children can learn

About Boston's past and its history discern.

It once was a port and a major one too,

It's Customs House taking all tax that was due.

On goods which passed into or out of the town;

The wealth of its merchants was Boston's renown.

The market is packed out with dozens of stalls,

With goods that range widely, from foodstuffs to shawls.

Wednesdays and Saturdays they are all there,

Taking up most of the large market square.

The river flows peacefully right through the  town,

With clear, sparkling water, not muddy or brown.

Families from Boston sailed over the sea,

To live in a land where they hoped they'd be free,

To practise their faith in the way they thought right,

Feeling the future would there be more bright.

A plaque in the churchyard remembers just twelve

Of the people back then who decided to shelve

Their life in this country: and take the long trip

Aboard "Arabella" - the name of the ship.

Boston, America, came into being,

Named for the town from which many were fleeing.

The Vicar of Boston, John Cotton by name

Was also an emigrant; he felt the same.

The Maud Foster Mill is still working today,

Producing its flour the traditional way;

It's open for people to see how it's done,

And after their visit can then have the fun

When they come down after touring the tower

Of buying the products produced from the flour.

The Seaside

There's something about the seaside, which makes it a special place,
Not just the sight of the ocean, vanishing into space,
But so many things combining to give it a different air,
The endless sandy beaches, which everyone has to share,
Sitting on sand or walking or paddling in the sea,
With lots of happy children splashing away with glee.
The donkey rides on the foreshore, which small people can enjoy,
The source of a great deal of pleasure to many a girl and boy.
The shrieking sound of the seagulls, as they circle overhead,
Hoping the people below them will throw them some pieces of bread.
The many cafes and kiosks providing a constant stream
Of various foods and drinks and endless cold icecream
The souvenir shops all selling much the same trinkets and toys,
Including little buckets and spades designed for girls and boys.
The salty smell on the breezes which blow towards the shore,
Whose strength is sometimes tiny, but other times seems to soar.
It's nice to spend time in the water, to paddle or swim in the sea
And it has one great advantage, that it's all completely free.

Weekends

When I've been working all the week,
 I know my wish is not unique,
To put away all thoughts of work,
Making the most of a welcome perk;
Two whole days when my time is my own,
And I myself can set the tone
For all I do, be busy or not,
Amble along or proceed at a trot.
A chance to go out in the countryside,
Hire a pony and go for a ride;
Sit in a field and paint the scene,
Away from the work computer screen.
Read a book or go to a play,
Keep the weeds in the garden at bay;
Go to the coast for some seaside air,
After checking the cheapest fare;
Spend a hour on the Serpentine,
Rowing a boat, if the weather's fine.
Visit museums to learn some more
About the exhibits they have in store.
Listen to music, at home or out,
Enjoy the chance to just potter about.
Weekends are wonderful; and for me
A time when I am totally free
To plan my days without a thought,
To be relaxed, instead of fraught.

Guy Fawkes

It may seem strange to celebrate
A man who met an awful fate
For trying a most ghastly thing,
To blow up Parliament and King.
But Guy Fawkes did, and still today
He is remembered, with the way
He set about to gain his aims
To rid the country of King James
Along with all the country's lords
As details of the plot records.
And though he failed, and they were saved,
His name and deeds are all engraved
On people's minds, so every year,
As November fifth draws near
They build a bonfire, make a guy,
Bring fireworks to light up the sky.
And though he lived so long ago
His name is one most people know;
And there is little doubt that he
Looms large in England's history.

Women in Power

A really good idea might be
If every country tried to see
If they could find within their state
Before the next election date,
Women who could take the role
Of being the person in control
Of every party in the race;
So within a shortish space
Women would be in the lead,
And that would bring in change indeed.
For never in earth's history,
Have women been atop the tree;
There has never been a time
When lots of women sought to climb
The ladder to the seats of power,
But maybe it is now the hour,
For woman to come out and claim
The right for all top jobs to aim.
And maybe when world leaders met,
In the future you would get
A line-up where to half at least
The women's presence had increased.
A woman's input often brings
A different stance on many things,
Life would never be the same
If lots of women joined the game
Of running all the world's affairs,
So equal power was truly their's.
Will it happen?  Perhaps not yet,
But still one day the world might get
To value women in all roles,
Especially winning at the polls.

Five O'clock in the Morning

At five o'clock in the morning, before the sun shows his face,

The streets are virtually silent, with plenty of empty space;

Few people throng the pavements, in the main it is merely the ones,

Whose shifts either start or finish at an hour which everyone shuns.

The air has the scented image which it has gained through the night,

And adds to the feeling of difference that goes with the early light.

It's a beautiful time in the morning, calm and silent and still,

Soon to be changed to another which people and traffic will fill.

Healthy Eating

Advice on healthy eating seems to change near every day,

As something new's discovered and the experts start to say

The foods they recommended in the past that you should eat,

No longer should be on your plate if you would hope to beat

The illnesses and aches and pains that come from eating junk,

Which makes one sometimes question just how much advice is bunk.

Butter once was much admired, along with milk and cream;

The came the experts who advised that they would never dream

Of eating dairy products; they were definitely all bad,

But now it seems not eating them was really just a fad.

Potatoes once were on the list of things you shouldn't buy,

Along with rice and pasta, though but few could tell you why,

Except that carbohydrates were supposed to make you fat,

And no-one conscious of their weight then wanted to be that.

But now potatoes are in vogue; they're good for you they say,

Full of all those vitamins that keep ill-health away.

Fats were also very bad not too long in the past,

But now they've made a comeback, and most experts if they're asked,

Think fats are now essential in a diet that will give

Everything that people need that they in health may live.

So maybe we should just ignore the experts in the press,

And to keep our weight in check, just eat a little less.

When I First Saw Your Face

The moment when I saw your face,
I hoped that you would find a place
Within your heart to care for me,
That I would your beloved be.
Your gorgeous hair, cascading down,
Soft and wavy and deepest brown,
Framed a face which all the while
Seemed to permanently smile
And when I looked I loved the way
Your dancing eyes just seemed to say
That life to you was really fun,
Filled with constant rays of sun.
I listened and I heard your voice,
Knew at once I would rejoice
In hearing it from morn till night,
Those tones so soft, yet clear and bright.
I hope that when you get this note,
You'll help my dreams to stay afloat,
By looking up and showing you
Feel something of the same thing too.

I Need some Inspiration

I need some inspiration
To speed me on my way
To pen the piece of writing,
I must produce today,
So I fulfil my mission
Which I’ve set myself to do
Every single day this year

To scribble something new.

A Growing Church

Some churches though they start our small
Swiftly hear the Gospel call
To grow in faith, in love and size,
And so their prioritise
Their work in teaching, so that they
Pass on their knowledge every day
To all they meet, so all can see
Just what a Christian ought to be
In terms of faith and life and deeds,
And where their church commitment leads.
They aim to nurture all who come
Introducing to them all the sum
Of what the church can offer those

Days are Getting Shorter

Days are getting shorter now July is in the past,
And lengthy summer evenings are now disappearing fast;
The dismal dark of winter comes in earlier each day,
Oh how I wish that it would decide one year to stay away.
But there is never any chance that we will still have light
Right until late evening on a cold December night.

A Dying Church

The vicar doesn't really care
About the other people there,
Providing there's at least one soul
To join with him and play the role
Of congregation in the church,
So he's not left there in the lurch,
All dressed up and on his own,
And very conscious he's alone.
Things hadn't always been the same;
At one time many people came.
Sunday mornings saw the pews
Full of people who would choose
To put their worship at the front;
To find a seat you had to hunt
If not on time, but came in late,
And visitors would then inflate
The congregation even more,
But that was in the days before
The current faithless vicar came,
And losing people was the game.
At first the faithful old ones stayed,
Held fast by al the roles they'd played
Throughout the years the church had been
A place for those whose faith was keen.
They knew what they believed and why,
All strengthened as the years went by.
But over time their numbers fell,
From moving and from death as well,
Going down to just a few,
'Til there were left just one or two
Who could remember former days,
And several former vicars' ways.
This vicar didn't feel the need
To foster growth, not plant a seed
That would encourage any growth;
At all times he was very loath
To teach the people more than just
The minimum newcomers must
Acquire so they can do their fit,
Without a spark of faith being lit,
Which usually meant that in the main,
They quickly drifted off again.
And those that stayed there rarely knew
More than just vaguely what to do.
Their knowledge of the faith was poor,
With no desire to find out more.
The church was just a social club,
With better music than the pub.
The vicar rarely spoke of God,
And no-one found this rather odd,
For few were left who'd ever known,
The church as a place where faith was grown.
The weekday Masses were ignored,
And Sundays often found them bored,
And never having learned to pray
They often would prefer to play
With phones and tablets all the while,
Until they ambled down the aisle,
By habit and by custom lead
To get what they perceived as bread.
So numbers dwindled; no-one cared
How terribly the church had fared
Without a leader who'd present
A living faith, and one which meant
A huge amount to him and so,
He loved to watch that same faith grow
More firm and stronger every day
In everyone who came his way,

Lack of Time

 I need a day that has more hours than twenty-four,
The current one leaves little time to do all I adore,
When one's allowed for travel, work and all the boring chores
One often hasn't any time to simply stop and pause
And spend some time just doing things one really wants to do,
Something that's exciting, or just something that is new.
Something that will take some time, not just a fleeting glance,
But if one's working all the time there's often little chance
For switching off for hours on end and following one's dreams,
For nearly all one's hours each day are occupied it seems.
With doing things one has to do - there isn't much to spare,
And lengths of time with nothing on are really very rare.
That's why I need some extra hours on top of twenty-four,
So I can fit in all the things I couldn't do before.

Watching the Boats on the Lake

I lazily watch all the boats on the lake,
And idly follow the ripples they make,
Disturbing the water as they skim along -
Boating and lakes always seem to belong.
The whole scene is peaceful; no sound stirs the air,
Except for the oars of the boatmen out there,
And voices which carry quite far from their source,
For there is no traffic to mask them of course.

Decorating

The paint is flaking off the walls,
The dirtied colour now appals;
The whole flat cries to be done again,
It's nothing like it looked like when
It first was done, so long ago,
And had a fresh and sparkling glow.
But now it just looks old and tired,
No longer can it be admired.
So I must now myself acquaint
With all the various shades of paint
That one can buy in shops today,
For at this stage I cannot say,
If I want to keep the same,
Or whether maybe I should aim
For something that is far more bold -
Perhaps the ceiling should be gold?
I look at cards - so many hues,
It's really difficult to choose.
I try and think how they would look,
In a room, not in a book,
But somehow hues won't crystalise
In my brain to visualise
How they'd look within the flat,
I'am just a little worried that
I won't  be pleased with how it looks,
If different from it seems in books.
At last I make my final choice;
For years to come I will rejoice
In greenish walls, and ceiling too
Painted in the same light hue.
So now for several weeks you'll find
Though it really is a bind,
Me with paintpot, roller, brush,
Always in a frantic rush,
As I work across each wall,
Being careful not to fall,
Till the tiresome job is done,
And l again can have some fun,
Instead of spending all my time,
Turning everything pale lime.
When at last it's all complete,
I think the job looks very neat,
And consequent on all my zeal,
The flat now has a different feel.

Dinosaurs in the Office

If a woman gains promotion, it is often then assumed

It wasn't her ability, but other things that loomed

Within the HR process, to push her to the front;

So many able women find they have to bear the brunt

Of snide remarks that indicate they only got the post

Because they smiled and flirted with the manager the most.

Their looks are made the target of men's envy, hate and bile;

It's whispered that they charmed the boss with all their female guile.

It's hinted that they soon will fail, and they will never cope,

Although it's really obvious this is just a jealous hope.

They risk being called by vicious names, though never to their face,

By men who feel they've stepped outside a woman's proper place,

Especially if they're fairly young, attractive and quite smart,

It's put about behind their backs this played a major part

In getting them promotion, for it can't be based on skills;

Their dislike of a woman boss so often overspills,

In words which have no place today in any field of life,

But in some major offices, their presence still is rife.

Though most men now are modern and support all women's rights

And treating them as equals is just one of their delights,

Equality's still not arrived, and often won’t be found

In any institution which has dinosaurs around;

Whether they are young or old, a woman can’t expect

That she will there be treated with good manners and respect.

The Artist

Someone creative, whose soul seems to say
His mission in life is to paint and portray
The world as he sees it and bring it to life,
Complete with reality, beauty or strife.
Perseverance is something an artist will need -
Success arrives quickly to few men indeed.
In the past many artists have painted for years,
Expressing on canvas their hopes and their fears.
Ignored by the public, so many sound found
Their days were reduced to a penniless round
Of trying to exist while they practised their art,
With lives very often near falling apart.
Some became rich, but for most it was true,
A life full of hardship was all that they knew.
Despite all their talent they died all unknown,
With never a toe in the popular zone.
For many great painters, it could truly be said
No artist is famous til after he's dead.

There's Nothing to Do

"There's nothing to do," so often is heard
From people who obviously aren't ever stirred
To go out and find things to do for themselves,
Are not one of those who consistently delves
Into what's on, and especially if free,
With eyes ever looking around them to see
All that is happening, so they don't miss
Any event that they feel would be bliss.
But instead just want others to show them the way,
Providing activities for them each day.
For anyone based in a city or town
Can always find something if they're feeling down.
Cinema, concert, or maybe a play,
A gallery with an artistic display;
Sports clubs galore, where a welcome awaits,
And they will soon find they've a crowd of new mates.
If they like singing there's usually a choir,
And some won't object if their voice is quite dire.
Books clubs and lectures at various times,
Poetry groups if their interest is rhymes.
Whatever their interests they're certain to find,
Others with hobbies of just the same kind,
Whether it's knitting or rowing they like
Or maybe just going for rides on their bike.
How much is on offer may be a surprise,
They just need to go out and open their eyes,

Chinese Tigers

Chinese tigers drawing near,
Give their rivals much to fear;
With their industry and skill
They are ready to fulfil
Any need that they can find,
And they usually are inclined
To look for business everywhere,
For they are very much aware
In China everyone must work -
It really doesn't pay to shirk.
At school they aim to be the best,
Rather than like all the rest,
Knowing if they're very keen,
In the end their skills will mean
They can join the happy band
Whose know-how's always in demand.

How Can We Live with fewer Drugs?

How can we live with fewer drugs?
No, not the ones from nasty thugs
Who hang around with loads to sell,
But those prescribed to make us well.
Millions and millions every week,
Dispensed to millions who try and seek
Something designed to make their life
More pleasant, with less pain and strife.
But doctors often should advise
That they should take more exercise;
Get up and out and make a start,
For movement can improve the heart.
Find a hobby, one which will
Ensure their brain is never still;
Get a social life that's real,
Invite a neighbour for a meal;
Be always busy so that they
Have things to do throughout the day.
Some will always need to take
Various drugs for their ailments' sake,
But many more just need to find
New interests that will set their mind
On other things, so they don't need
Bottles of pills on which to feed.

The Lazy Worker

In every place there's someone who doesn't pull their weight,
The sort who vanish early, though they often come in late;
Who say they're always busy, though they often can't be found,
Refuse to join their colleagues if there's extra work around.
Who always have appointments just when busy times arrive,
And always are indignant if one hints they like to skive.
They're always feeling poorly if there's any chance that they
Might have to work more quickly than they usually do all day.
They don't mind if their colleagues have to help them with their work
For they've become quite expert in the game of how to shirk.
But they still expect promotion, and they feel if isn't fair
It usually goes to people who will always do their share
They never stop to think perhaps their chances may be marred
By always doing little while their colleagues work so hard.

The Labour Party Leadership Election

Now Mr. Milliband is gone,
The Labour Party's moving on,
With plans to choose another man,
Or woman, as all parties can.
A person who they really hope
Will prove they're strong enough to cope
With showing their ideas are sound
When twenty twenty comes around.
The four contestants in the race
In the coming days will face
Calls to prove they are the one
Best qualified to get things done.
Each has their own ideas of course,
Which they declare with fervid force,
Of where the Party's future lies,
And none make efforts to disguise
The fact they feel that it is they
Best able at this time to sway
The voters from their present stand
To join the Labour Party band.
Jeremy Corbyn's in the lead;
On present polls he will not need
To bother with the second votes
As his percentage lightly floats
Past the fifty mark so he
Would gain an outright victory.
Way behind comes Andy's vote,
Yvette's and then the last to note,
Liz Kendal with a paltry eight,
It looks as if if is her fate
To lose her chance and not become
The Labour Party's Number One.
But things could change, and one can't know
Exactly how a vote will go
Until the crosses have been placed
And candidates at last are faced
Not with polls, but an actual count
Which gives them all the real amount
Of votes received, which may not be
The ones predicted formerly.

The Bankrupt Charity

A largish charity bites the dust,
Closing as usually the bankrupt must;
The cash at bank reduced to nil,
No money to pay the wages bill.
And as often is the case,
Money's owed all over the place.
Rent and taxes stand unpaid
While hopes of payment quickly fade,
For there is no money there
To lighten creditors' despair.
In past times many people sought,
To praise their work, and give support.
And money gaily flooded in
So endless projects could begin.
Now all around one hears the song:
"They were so good - so what went wrong?"
Meantime, the claim and counterclaim
Try to fix or shift the blame,
As all the leaders try to show
It wasn't them who brought it low.
Accusations fly around,
"The management was never sound."
"So much money was mis-spent,
One never knew quite where is went."
"The staffing levels were too high,
And salaries near reached the sky."
"Expenses were on such a scale,
The business couldn't help but fail."
"Those who should have kept a check
Just lazed around the upper deck."
While everything seemed going well,
No-one ever thought to tell
The doubts they had; but now it's failed,
All who will listen are regaled
With stories of the warning signs,
incidents of many kinds
Which showed that things were not all right,
And much lay hidden out of sight.
Meanwhile The leaders loudly claim,
It was not they who were to blame,
And wasting no time glancing back
Move forward on another track.

Politicians Beware

Politicians having fun
Should make sure they aren't the one
Whose photos taken by the Sun
Can lead to so much strife and woe,
Bringing calls for them to go
With their reputation low.

Mental Health

Mental health in children used rarely be discussed
If any suffered from it, then few were too much fussed;
A few had nervous breakdowns, which kept them out of school,
But children with mental problems formed an insignificant pool,
And usually they weren't off for long, and back within the year,,
Their problems fully sorted out and once more in the clear.
There were of course a few who seemed a little strange of fey,
With minor problems all assumed in time would go away.
Much of this was due to stress and problems that arise,
When children live in poverty that nothing can disguise.
But now we're in an age where there is so much greater wealth,
Children seem to suffer from diminished mental health,
With one in ten or one in five, depending who you ask,
Displaying obvious symptoms that they're not up to the task
Of coping with life's stress and strains, unless they can receive
Trained counselling and other help which experts now believe
All children should have access to if they are to survive
The ups and downs of growing up, ensuring they arrive
At adulthood, where still they may need help to carry on,
Sorting out new problems now the childhood ones are gone,
For mental health's subjective, and most people in the past,
Rode out the problems that they met and would have looked aghast
At any thought of therapists intruding in their lives -
An outlook which in many minds no longer now survives.

Bad Apples

It's said a bad apple can quickly infect
The whole of the barrel: it's certainly correct
To say it's a danger one shouldn't ignore
For one rotten apple can soon lead to more.
The same can be said when referring to staff;
The extrovert colleague may make people laugh,
But if they're dishonest, 'twill soon become known,
And in the near future they'll  not be alone.
For many who'd never start stealing if left
With those who were honest, may soon become deft
At helping themselves to whatever they can,
A new way of life which quite surely began,
When they were encouraged to break all the rules,
For "honesty's something that's only for fools."
Remaining unchecked such a culture will grow
For most people tend to just go with the flow,
A single bad apple may seem something small,
But they can cause numerous others to fall.