Archive for Poetry

A Love Poem

Posted in America, Britain, Canada, England, Europe, European Union, Germany, News, Relationships, UK with tags , , , , on 25/05/2016 by floroy1942

A Summer Story

The birds dart swiftly to and fro

and I am sure they really know

they tell the flowers and the bees

the wind that rustles through the trees

they tell the fox, and rabbit too

the earth so wide, the sky of blue

they tell the creatures of the night

until the break of morning light.

And now the wind is on it’s way

for it too has much to say

it tells the valley’s deep and green

it tells the mountain and the stream

for blowing over forest land

or far across the desert sand

it has reached the foreign shore

to tell its story just once more.

In just a while the story’s known

in every place and every home

by every rock and every tree

by every wave upon the sea

it’s known by every drop of rain

and blade of grass upon the plain

the story of the love we share

forever ours, beyond compare.

Roy Peters

 

I hope you enjoyed it.

Roy.

A Poem That Some Of Us Can Relate To

Posted in America, Australia, Britain, Children, England, Equality, European Union, Modern World, Old Age Pensioner, UK with tags , , , , on 13/02/2015 by floroy1942

A very enlightening ditty that came my way that will remind many of the good old days.

I remember the cheese of my childhood,
And the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework,
And the men went to work not the wife.

The cheese never needed a fridge,
And the bread was so crusty and hot
The children were seldom unhappy
And the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the bottle,
With the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
And not from the fridge in the shop.

The kids were a lot  more contented,
They didn’t need money for kicks,
Just a game with their mates in the road,
And sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,
Where a pen’orth of sweets was sold
Do you think I’m a bit too nostalgic?
Or is it…I’m just getting old?

I remember the ‘loo’ was the lav
And the bogey man came in the night,
It wasn’t the least bit funny
Going “out back” with no light.

The interesting items we perused
From the newspapers cut into squares,
And hung on a peg in the loo,
It took little to keep us amused.

The clothes were boiled in the copper
With plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
As Mum pressed everyone’s ‘duds’.

I remember the slap on my backside,
And the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren’t heard of
And we hadn’t much choice what we wore.

Do you think  that bruised our ego?
Or our initiative was destroyed?
We ate what was put on the table
And I think life was better enjoyed.

My thanks to the donor and the anonymous writer.

Roy

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