Saturday, February 16, 2008

Valentines Poem 2008

It’s Valentine’s Day once again, love,
The time for emotion and dreams
And I still love you so
With a passion, although
We are coming apart at the seams.

We’d better take care of our bodies,
Now that those fifties are lurking.
Though the aching’s increased,
I still love you, at least,
The parts of you which are still working.

If I delve through the fog of my memory
To the time when you were a spring chicken.
I loved you back then
As much as now, when
Our art’ries are starting to thicken.

I know that your adamant that all
Your aches can be laid at my door,
When I marched you for hours
Past the trees and the flowers
Little knowing the trouble in store.

I know that it’s really frustrating.
This aging is breaking my heart.
But my love still takes flight
When I watch you, despite
The fact that we’re falling apart.

No more will we go rollercoastering.
No canal banks in all kinds of weather.
We cannot run riot,
We must take things quiet,
But at least we will do them together.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

The Glorious Twelfth

In days of old,
I have been told,
Twelfth birthdays marked the bound’ry.
Upon that day,
Kids ceased to play
And went off to the foundry.
Past childhood days
Were lost in haze
And any toys were hidden.
‘Twas off to work
As Gard or clerk,
And laughter was forbidden.

At twelve years old
The work bell tolled
And drowned the sound of laughter.
Down in the pit
You shovelled coal
And had to be a grafter.
You earned your pay,
Two bob a day,
Or more if you were lucky.
The boss was gruff
And work was tough,
You came home tired and mucky.

But nowadays
There’s not this craze
For sending kids out earning.
It’s off to school
Now, as a rule,
This is the age of learning.
No more do they
Hand up their pay.
In fact they cost us money!
Its now become,
For children, some
Great land of milk and honey.

But Kate, I’m told,
Now twelve years old,
Knows childhood days are finished.
The hours of leisure
And of pleasure
Greatly now diminished.
She’ll clean her room
With mop and broom
Whenever she’s a minute
And make sure that
Her habitat
Has nothing dirty in it.

She’ll walk the dog
And clean the bog
And iron when it’s raining.
She’ll dry each cup
Of washing up
And all without complaining.
At half past five
She’ll sweep the drive
And paint hall, stairs and landing.
Though muscles ache,
She’ll take no break
While she’s still strength for standing.

She’ll help her Da
To load the car
Whene’er they go out shopping.
She’ll clean the brass
And cut the grass
And all this without stopping.
She’ll shine her shoes
And clean the loos,
No matter if they’re grubby.
So when she’s grown
She will not moan
When cleaning after hubby.

So welcome, Kate!
Grown-up life’s great.
We hope you’ll learn to love it.
And if friends say
“Come out to play!”
We hope you’ll rise above it.
You’re twelve now and
You understand
You must accept your duty.
Oh all is changed
And rearranged –
‘Tis born a terrible beauty.