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Write it down/Write it Out

Why am I here? Why show you my poetry?

These are not great poems, they don’t win prizes. But – they are my Poems.

And that’s the point.

I am an average ‘Joe’ and I’ve had an average English life enjoying the usual things and had my share of misfortunes.

In times of stress I have been helped a great deal by writing all my feelings down. When happy or elated the words flow and the pleasure is enhanced.

I have chosen to use verse in my literary ramblings because I find it easy. You may like to use prose or just ordinary sentences. No matter.

You need not show anyone unless you wish to. You can lock the bad times away in a box or put your wit on show via the web.

Whatever you want. Whenever you want. You choose!

So – if you are sad, happy, frustrated, angry, in love, out of love, ill, frightened, politically cynical, depressed, alone, suicidal, separated from your children, doubting God’s existence, wondering how to spend your lottery win, exasperated by the unelected clowns in Strasburg, just become a parent, the cats died etc. etc. etc…… (add as required) ….. then WRITE IT OUT – WRITE IT DOWN.

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Moroccan Pain

He died alone at the bottom of a well
and he was only 5
many folk dug day and night
to bring him up alive.

But he was dead at the bottom
injured as he fell
what fears he knew in his little mind
no-one alive can tell.

Imagine the feelings of those rescuers then
angry, frustrated and sad
who fought so hard to get him out
and return him to his mum and dad.

Farewell sweet lad your terrors and fright
are now all gone and past
I hope you are now in a better place
and know your happiness at last.


Rayan Oram, aged 5 died 8/2/22 RIP

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A Mother and New York

A one parent boy left with his Mum
By a Dad who never wanted to go
With much financial upheaval
Where the standard answer was no!

Later he knew that against the odds
She had nurtured him with warm feelings
Passed on honesty and unease in equal parts
As war bombs had left more than cracked ceilings.

Twenty years on and the world has changed
When enthusiasm means more than a degree
With seven day working while still in his teens
He started his own firm and was boss free.

Life intrudes and the company must go
But he has talent others thought worth buying
Now shaking important hands at foreign meets
He becomes used to first class flying.

New York was where he always felt close
To his Mother from yester year
To look upwards at the churches to wealth
And know he had earned his right to be here.

To be in this money Mecca
And recall from where he had come
He knew it was only made happen
By the love he had had from his Mum.

Retraction

I hurt her feelings with a rhyme
And she was only small
I was a little flippant
And she didn't like it at all.

I only tried to show in words 
A pride I have for her
But she threw them back at me
As if it was a slur.

Perhaps when you are seven
You have principles, plain and straight
And the world should take notice
For next year, "I'll be eight".

So to my wounded girl I say
Do not be angry or sad
For I think you are really wonderful
Love you lots......Dad.

Tight Valve

I see much beauty in a sunset
And enjoy laughing in the rain
I am moved by a babies chuckle
Or the hiss from an old steam train.

Or a sunrise in the morning 
And a high tide at noon
Curlews plaintive crying on marshes
Before the rising moon.

I am a sucker for nostalgia
True pathos brings a tear
I like to be alone but
I need somebody near.

I have deep hidden feelings
Which yearn to be set free
But I can't tell those looking in
About the softer side of me.