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