Core

 

We are the core believers

The very heart of the cause.

We hold to the fundamentals

Beliefs that can’t be ignored.

 

We believe to the core of our being

The cause is both right and true

To deviate would be grievious

It saddens us that you do.

 

If our core belief is generous

And based on a love that is true

We’ll forgive you your faults and failings

In knowledge we have them too.

 

But core beliefs based on judgement

Are a totally different ‘to do’

We know we are right and clearly you’re not

So so much the worse for you!

 

via Core

A mother’s day tribute.

A tribute to my mother first published in March for U.K. mother’s day.

Andrew Green's avatarAndrew Green's Poems

1EFE2111-9F9A-44B9-8452-08203822DEA7A tribute to Margaret; my mum, first presented at her funeral service April 2010.

My mum was writing her story. She had been at it for years but could never get beyond the first chapter. It was about her mother Lily who was working as a cook for a family in Brighton and the policeman who regularly took tea at the house and became the father mum never knew.

It was 1939 when to have a baby out of wedlock was seen as a shameful thing and for a single mother to keep her child was out of the question. So mum was fostered out to a family who treated her badly, the children teasing her mercilessly and the parents giving her regulation slices of bread and butter while the rest of the family ate a full tea. It explains perhaps why she turned to comfort eating in later life…

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Skewed

Your aim’s not straight

It’s bent, it’s skewed.

You’ve hit it wrong

It’s been miscued.

 

You hit it wrong

The flight’s not true.

It’s not gone

Where you  meant it to!

 

You hit it wrong

It’s such a shame.

It’s clear that you

Are off your game.

 

We get things wrong

We make mistakes

You had a chance

You didn’t take.

 

Today you failed

You don’t feel great

Another day

You’ll hit it straight.

 

via Skewed

Aunt Rene 100

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My auntie’s nearly a hundred

That’s really a ripe old age.

Last of her generation

Though once she was one of eight.

 

There was Dora, Gilbert and Vera

And Alex who was always called Bill

There was Elsie and William, known as Will

Rene and little Sylv.

 

The girls stayed close to Granny

Elsie, Rene and Sylv

They kept the family together

When sadly our granny had gone.

 

They worked for a while in a wool shop

Giggly sisters three.

We travelled around but they’d always be there

Core of the family.

 

Rene was bright as a button

Direct and sometimes could seem sharp.

But it was just her way

We’d catch the smile.

 

Her husband Fred went before her

Collecting fares somewhere else now.

Sadly her dear son Tony

Didn’t survive his mother either.

 

So last of her generation

A hundred year old aunt Rene

A modest enough little party

But for us she’s the queen of the Greens.

 

Lost in the forest

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I’m lost in the forest

Lost  in the wood

Surrounded by trees

Encompassed in myth.

 

Who lives in the forest?

What lurks in the wood?

Secrets surround us

What darkness is this?

 

Folk tales and heroes

And things that are hid

Don’t talk to strangers

Or get lost in the wood.

 

Men of the forest

All dressed in green

Things we don’t speak of

Perils unseen.

 

Keep to the path

If you pass through the wood

Hear the trees whisper

Beware of the wolf.

 

via Forest

The New Forest Pony

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A handsome New Forest Pony

Wanders across the road

For the ponies of the Forest

Are free to graze as they will.

Commoners rights are centuries old

It’s always been this way

So cars slow down to the pony’s pace

And life is pleasantly slow.

They say that ponies have grazed here

Many a thousand year.

And later on ‘‘twas a hunting ground

For Willie the conqueror.

It’s not all trees in the Forest

There’s open moorland too.

It’s a special place you can get away,

Stay, visit or just drive through.

You may meet a pony in the road

They’ll likely slow you down

But adjust yourself to the Forest pace

They’re a pleasure to be around.

via Forest

Royal Wedding Visitor Guide

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Are you coming to Windsor?

Here’s all you need to know

Where to see the Royal Bride

Or catch Chris Evans show.

There’s screens all down the Long Walk

Refreshment areas too.

The Irish Guards on Castle Hill

And lots of extra loos.

There’s park and ride

Or park and float

There’s extra trains

or come by boat.

Musicians, entertainers

Lots of things to see.

Or parking at the racecourse

And see it on a screen.

The Bride arrives at high noon

Carriages at one.

Process around the royal route

All be done by two.

Rebel

 

You like to be thought a rebel

But what are you rebelling against?

You just like to put your oar in

Be loud have your own point of view.

 

What would this world of ours look like

If things were just left to you?

You like to raise an objection

You want us to listen to you.

 

Left to your own devices

What is it exactly you’d do?

Perhaps you’re only rebellious

Cos no-one takes notice of you

 

Daily Prompt via Rebel

Thanks

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For the smell of a new born baby’s hair

We should give thanks.

For the chill of November morning air

For the opening strains of a favourite tune,

And the glimpse of true love across a room

We should give thanks.

 

For the first sip of a well earned drink

We will give thanks.

For our favourite uncle’s friendly wink,

For the kiss of gentle, late summer sun

For the chatter of children having fun

We will give thanks.

 

For the warming glow of a winter fire

We should give thanks.

For the joyful chorus of Christmas choirs,

First sight of snowdrops, promise of spring,

For the long lazy days that summer brings

We should give thanks.

 

For all the sounds and sights and smells

The things we see and hear and feel

For the senses that deliver these

We should give thanks.

Laughter (Triolet)

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You so crease me up with laughter

That a tear comes into my eye

But the thing that I find harder;

When you crease me up with laughter.

And just act dafter and dafter;

Is no matter how hard you try

You crease me up with laughter

But I still see a tear in your eye.

 

 

via Laughter