The Man Who Loved the SeaHe lives within his grizzled skin
and roams upon the ocean. A Yorkshire man he did begin, but the sea’s a powerful potion. It gives to him his daily breath, his very reason for being. It puts the laughter in his eyes, it gives existence meaning. And when he shares his tales of life with dwellers of the land, They venture forth for a brief time further than the sand. They roll with him upon the waves. They taste the salty sea. They venture into wondrous ports. They feel what it’s like to be free. The First Man in My LifeHe was the first man in my life
My father - A man of few words Who gave me a childhood of such wonder And such perfection That I am sorry for all the children in the world that ever were and ever will be, For they are not as lucky as I. He was the man who taught me to love poetry from the moment he first taught me nursery rhymes and the fun you could have playing with words, The man who taught me to love books through reading me the most exciting of stories, The man who taught me to love art through sitting up half the night drawing by the light go a hurricane lamp, The man who laid a blanket under the night sky and showed me the wonder of the stars and the immensity of the universe, The man who played black vynal records and helped me hear the colours of the Grand Canyon Suite, and the fervour of the trolls who danced in the Hall of the Mountain King. He was my father, Just a man Who was more remarkable Than he realised. I love words because of him I see the stars because of him I hear the music because of him I hope he knew this. Sharn-shine(a birthday poem for my friend, Sharn)
When the silver moon Slides through the heavens, We lean towards love. When we gaze at the stars That ignite the night, We dare to dream. When the golden sun Bathes us in balmy warmth, We dare to grow. But then there is Sharn-shine. As if all three are rolled into one, We feel the sparkle of the stars, the magic of the moon And the energy and warmth of the sun. Everyone needs a little Sharn-shine in their lives. I Am Made of StardustI am made of stardust
from the bang when time began - from the yawning cavenous darkness before ere there was man. From the dawning of the first light through the speeding warp of space - I am made of stardust from my toes up to my face. Each night as I retire I gaze up into the sky and marvel at the twinkling and deeply breathe and sigh, For I am made of stardust and to stardust I'll revert, glad to have lived and laughed a while upon this planet Earth. And when I leave this body please do not weep and cry for I am returned to stardust. I am sprinkled across the sky. WeMan is but a minute
If he stands alone to whine, But he becomes eternity Linked with other minutes of time. Man is but a grape Growing lonely on the vine, But blend him with the other grapes, He makes a full, rich wine. Man is a but a pebble That with others causes change. He can be an island Or a mighty mountain range. Man is but a letter In the alphabet of life. Join another letter, He makes a word with his wife. Friends and children too are letters Forming new words all the time, Penned together become a novel Or a lilting, lovely rhyme. Man may be a single unit Standing lonely in the cold, But when he stands with others True greatness can unfold. When Your World is GreyWhen your world seems so grey,
When your sun won’t shine, When your chocolate tastes yuk And so does your wine, Remember this time too will pass The knot in your stomach will unbend. The smile will return upon your lips, Please trust me in this my friend. And though you suffer, you are not alone. Through pain and tears and fear, Remember this – you have someone close Who holds you very dear. Happy 70th RobynDry up all your tears,
Toss aside your care, 'Cos 70 in pig years Is barely even there. You can keep on eating roast beef And still go off to market Thanks to things like false teeth And shopping spots like Target. You can keep on drinking Champagne And your tushie - keep it shakin'. It's OK to live in the fast lane, But please, no more makin' bacon. Yes, 70 in pig years Is really still quite young, So cheers from all your pig peers. We vote you piggy number one! |
SixSweet is the music when you are six
Magic are the flowers and exciting the sticks Delicious is mud between your toes Intriguing the tide that ebbs and flows Life is a wonder With secrets to unfold And precious their joy Shared with us who grow old. For Dad,
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