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Solomon's poetry thread

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Just reread this thread and really enjoyed it

hazel

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SCARLET POPPIES

 

I laboured on the farmer’s land

I ploughed the furrows all day long

The simple life was good enough

The air was clean, my arms were strong

 

I’d walk along the winding path

That took me thro’ the misty dell

To where the scarlet poppies grew

And there I’d meet my dear Michelle

 

I’d promise her undying love

I’d softly stroke her pretty face

A scarlet poppy I would pick

For in my lover’s hair to place

 

One day I went to meet Michelle

I told her I’d been called to fight

A pointless war across the sea

We cried and held each other tight

-------

Crouched low inside a muddy trench

The soil was damp with morning dew

It smelled just like a place back home

The field where scarlet poppies grew

 

Then we were told to charge the foe

Much carnage wreaked that bloody day

My comrade fell down to the ground

As both his legs were blown away

 

I heard him crying out my name

His eyes stared at the cold grey sky

‘My life is through, all hope is gone

‘Tis better now that I should die’

 

His tortured voice I could not bear

‘May God forgive me this’ I said

I kissed his cheek, I shed a tear

I fired the bullet in his head

 

As I approached a grassy ridge

A gun appeared upon the crest

I stared into the face of death

I felt a pain deep in my chest

 

Now all my dying eyes can see

Are scarlet poppies everywhere

Like those that grow in English fields

Those I placed in my true love’s hair

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Thank you for sharing my grief,

I am hoping to be able to read it out at the service.

 

hazel

 

My heart goes out to you Hazel. I do hope you find the strength to read out

those beautiful words. God bless you.

I wrote something similar, for my dear mother but had to let the vicar read it out, as my grief was overwhelming.

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I dreamed that I had seen the smile

Which was always upon your face

Then I recalled that you had gone

To some better and pain free place

The happy days seem long ago

When we would talk and laugh for hours

But we shall do so once again

In a field of wild blue flowers

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WE KISSED THE RAIN

 

When we were young and love was new

We’d run through fields of morning dew

Our hearts were free, our hopes were high

We reached the stars

We touched the sky

 

We rode our luck through storms and gales

We rode the waves neath billowed sails

We shared the joy, we shared the pain

We chased the wind

We kissed the rain

 

You’ve been the one who calms my fears

You’ve been the one who dries my tears

You’ve learned the secrets of my soul

You kept the faith

You kept me whole

 

And though we may be growing old

I still have your sweet hand to hold

You've been a dear and perfect wife

You're still my love

You're still my life

 

When heaven's gates we both pass through

We’ll run through fields of morning dew

We’ll reach the stars and once again

We’ll chase the wind

We’ll kiss the rain

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WE MESSED THE STAIN

 

When we were young and love was new

We’d stained the bed sheets right on through

To the mattress we'd let fly

In energetic pumping

And my mam would say more than 'Oh my!'

 

We rode each other through storms and gales

We rode the bed neath billowed sails

We shared the joy, we shared the pain

We chased the dragon

We missed the stain

 

You’ve been the one who shared my beers

You’ve been the one who caught my leers

You’ve learned the secrets of my soul

You kept the money

When on the dole

 

And though we may be growing pot

I still do coke but not a lot

You've been a druggie and a whore

I'm the same old dealer and your own pimp

You still come knockin on my front door

 

 

When hell's gates we both pass through

We'll stain the deadsheets right through

To the mattress we'll let fly

In energetic pumping

And Satan would say more 'Nice try.'

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My heart goes out to you Hazel. I do hope you find the strength to read out

those beautiful words. God bless you.

I wrote something similar, for my dear mother but had to let the vicar read it out, as my grief was overwhelming.[/quote

 

Thank you for your reply,

 

It's quite a while now since she died but her memory is still bright in my mind

I did read it out and realised, when I saw how many people were in the church and outside, what an impact she has made in her lifetime,

 

I still miss her

 

hazel

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Summer

 

Summer is the stuff of dreams

When adults sit at their desks, and children sit in school, they dream of summer.

Summer is the time of infinite fun

The day seems to last forever, and the fun never stops.

It is a time of romance, excitement and an enhanced enjoyment of life.

Somehow summer never seems to last long enough...

It is always over before we get a chance to fully experience its power.

This is true of all things wonderful.

They always seem too short.

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Google

 

If you Google, Vera, Celia and me

you will find the names of all three

Our exploits are known

Our outfits on loan

because Vera can sew you see.

 

She’s now making bags for our shoes

So while we are joining the queues

No plastic for us

We know what that does

we’re green and we’ve nothing to lose.

 

Hooray the City Hall dances are back

On Tuesday the 2nd to be exact

We race to the door

Soon we’ll be taking the floor

I wonder how Fred will react

 

We now know which table to get

And we’re as pushy as the people we met

We are not as polite

But try as we might

Our manners are hard to forget.

 

Last of the summer wine is modelled on us

We were the first but didn’t want the fuss

Our adventures were noted

But we thought and we voted

So we all went home on the bus

 

hazel

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Fat Horse

 

I saw a fat horse in a field today

and thought it was Odd in an abstracted way,

reflecting that most of the horses I’ve seen

were skinny old nags

or noble and lean.

This one was fat and voraciously grazing.

An Unusual sight though, it’s true, not Amazing.

 

It was pregnant, you sigh, and probably due

but a noteworthy prominence rules out this view.

Or maybe some rare hardy Iron Age breed?

But it looked like a fatty too fond of its feed.

 

Perhaps it’s not meant for the field or the track

but to sit a fat lady upon its fat back

who comes, when the mood takes, to this very spot

and gleefully bounces around at a trot.

 

I don’t really know

how it came to be so

but a corpulent horse

isn’t par for the course.

 

The reader may scoff at my limited knowledge

but I never attended no fancy Horse College.

 

 

 

I’m alone and a little bit bored today

I saw a fat horse.

Just thought I’d say.

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After seeing 20 young people baptised recently

at a Jehovah's Witness convention.

 

Dear God look down on these little sheep

With their sweaty palms and shuffling feet

But heads erect and eyes so clear

Smothering doubt, surpressing fear

Knowing the Kingdom of God is near

 

When they are baptised in the Jordan today

Insecurities all will be washed away

And they will go forth with foreheads of iron

(Moses leading the children of Zion)

As the devil circles like a roaring lion.

 

Misunderstood and spurned by their peers

The cry of scorn ringing in their ears

"We turned our backs on wealth and fame

Preaching instead to the spiritually lame

And hated by all on account of your name

 

Where will we be five years from now

Will our hand still be guiding the plough

Will our eyes be set firm on the prize

Or will we be tempted by satanic device

And forfeit our place in paradise?"

 

Little children come to me again and again

And I will make you fishers of men

The last will be first and you will be free

The deaf will hear and the blind will see

And your peace just like a river will be.

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Seaside

 

 

A day at the seaside? – how nice that would be

Ice cream and sunshine

and toes in the sea

 

A prospect of fun and nostalgic reflection

and childhood holidays recalled with affection

 

to see continuity in time-honoured places

and landmarks as welcome as old friend’s faces.

 

But little remained of the those old fashioned ways

with innocence notably absent these days.

 

Instead there were empty-eyed, pot-bellied squirts

who’d decided they weren’t gonna bother with shirts,

swaggering blearily out on a crawl

or sprawled, lagered up, on the promenade wall.

Born to a culture where they can do jack,

take all the benefits and put nothing back.

Their limited income had bought them tattoos

with plenty left over for holiday booze.

 

Their female equivalents strolling beneath

were often surprisingly missing odd teeth

and, spouting profanities, passed on their way

with dubious attributes out on display,

their undersized clothing could barely contain

the acres of flesh they were meant to restrain.

And one seemed quite eager to flaunt for a bit

the cool Chinese dragon tattooed on one tit.

 

Their poor little kiddies were dragging behind

and few of ‘em looked the adorable kind,

troublesome offspring with trailer trash names

placated with junk food and internet games,

a bit of a drag on the afternoon boozing

they echoed the language their mothers were using,

carelessly, callously laying foundations

for future behaviour and low expectations.

 

But still, on the bright side, we didn’t despair

The cliffs and the beach and the sea were still there,

 

the glories of nature a joy to behold,

the simple delights of the day trips of old.

 

A shame you can only enjoy the occasion

by subtracting the populace from the equation.

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