The trees grow up from the ground,]
there’s green grass and flowers all around,]
where people can picnic and rest,]
then walk by the stream with zest,]
where peace and quiet abound.]
There once was a little station,]
they called it Dowlais Top,]
and when Len visited his Kin,]
this is where the train would stop.]
With his mum and dad, for he was just a lad,]
they walked down the slope to Town,]
To meet Auntie Em and the rest of them,]
around the fire they all settled down.]
The station has been gone awhile,]
as are the houses above Dowlais Top.]
There is nothing to see on the mountain, ‘dear me’]
but a blooming great ASDA shop.
The Gran sat and sewed for the child,]
the stripes on the jacket were loud,]
but the child loved this coat,]
for it had a bright note,]
and of the red lining she was extrememly proud.]
I am no Shelley or Keats,]
neither am I Wordsworth nor Yeats,]
not Will Shakespeare nor Bacon,]
those places are taken,]
I’m just Angie amature poet you see.]
My clothes are different you see,]
they are designed and made by me,]
I don’t run with the crowd,]
of my clothes I am proud,]
I am as different as I want to be.]
Although my mum was a Rainham lass,]
she always came top of her class,]
She worked in a shop,]
danced at the local hop,]
but said nowt of the exams she would pass.]
She loved ballroom dancing its true,]
and earned a medal or two,]
she’d practise through the night,]
until she got it right,]
Then she could dance a foxtrot with you.]
When you enjoy yourself, does it fly,]
but it drags when you need it to go by.]
so decide what it is,]
and don’t get in a tis,]
deal with whatever your handed, but don’t cry.]
Of siblings they numered five,]
but now only four can take a bow,]
they are younger than me,]
and of girls, there are three,]
and of boys there’s only one now.]
The other was different you see,]
and of the Downes community.]
He was loving and good,]
and I didn’t think they could,]
drown him with a tube and his tea.]
When he died there were many tears,]
and we searched for justice for many years,]
but at the end of the day,]
I’m here to say,]
That we can’t bring him back, however dear.]
I think this is twenty eight now,]
so I have kept to my vow,]
but if I am wrong,]
Perhaps I will write you a song,]
about what I haved missed in the here and now.]
SALMON
The river runs to the sea] the salmon swims up, there to be] where the eggs are laid] llittle salmon are made,] and then they to swim to the sea.]
COMPUTER GAMES
I like to play freecell,] solitaire and mahjong as well,] for your brain its good food,] but without being rude,] your time control goes to hell.]
THE TREES
The trees grow up from the ground,] there’s green grass and flowers all around,] where people can picnic and rest,] then walk by the stream with zest,] where peace and quiet abound.]
DOWLAIS TOP]
There once was a little station,] they called it Dowlais Top,] and when Len visited his Kin,] this is where the train would stop.]
With his mum and dad, for he was just a lad,] they walked down the slope to Town,] To meet Auntie Em and the rest of them,] around the fire they all settled down.]
The station has been gone awhile,] as are the houses above Dowlais Top.] There is nothing to see on the mountain, ‘dear me’] but a blooming great ASDA shop.
BICYCLES
They cycled down the lane,] visited neighbours again and again,] but then they rode home,] never more to roam,] after tea but before the rain.]
GRAN
The Gran sat and sewed for the child,] the stripes on the jacket were loud,] but the child loved this coat,] for it had a bright note,] and of the red lining she was extrememly proud.]
FAMOUS POETS
I am no Shelley or Keats,] neither am I Wordsworth nor Yeats,] not Will Shakespeare nor Bacon,] those places are taken,] I’m just Angie amature poet you see.]
CLOTHES
My clothes are different you see,] they are designed and made by me,] I don’t run with the crowd,] of my clothes I am proud,] I am as different as I want to be.]
MY MUM
Although my mum was a Rainham lass,] she always came top of her class,] She worked in a shop,] danced at the local hop,] but said nowt of the exams she would pass.]
She loved ballroom dancing its true,] and earned a medal or two,] she’d practise through the night,] until she got it right,] Then she could dance a foxtrot with you.]
TIME
When you enjoy yourself, does it fly,] but it drags when you need it to go by.] so decide what it is,] and don’t get in a tis,] deal with whatever your handed, but don’t cry.]
DAD
My Dad was a London boy,] came to Rainham before ‘the War’] He met my Mum at school,] and being no fool,] Soon was knocking on her door.
SIBLINGS
Of siblings they numered five,] but now only four can take a bow,] they are younger than me,] and of girls, there are three,] and of boys there’s only one now.]
The other was different you see,] and of the Downes community.] He was loving and good,] and I didn’t think they could,] drown him with a tube and his tea.]
When he died there were many tears,] and we searched for justice for many years,] but at the end of the day,] I’m here to say,] That we can’t bring him back, however dear.]
CATS
Of cats they number four] as they turn up at the door] Three really do belong,] but don’t get me wrong,] they will still feed number four.]
HOW MANY
I think this is twenty eight now,] so I have kept to my vow,] but if I am wrong,] Perhaps I will write you a song,] about what I haved missed in the here and now.]
THE WIZARD
The wizard Klaxon stood tall and proud
Listening to the peasants crying out loud
The fault is not mine he considered
Sadly every tree in the orchard had withered
The spell to make average apples taste better
Went wrong and made the roots much wetter
They sucked up poisons from the land
Villagers stood in a sorrowful band
The wizard must be to blame
So they decided to put him to the flame
As the people built his funeral pyre
He conjoured himself out of the mire
On a hillside as the rain began to teem
He realized he was standing in a stream
Klaxon solemnly waved his wand
And found he was waist deep in a pond
Undaunted the wizard tried again
This time for somewhere out of the rain
He transported himself to a place quite cavernous
And was confronted by wolves feeling ravenous
A frantic wave of the wand exited the mage
Who now understood magic gets no easier with age
THE ANNUAL CHALLENGE
I am not a poet even though I tried
There was no success in this years challenge
So sorry was I that I nearly cried
Then I thought oh well never mind
If writing twenty eight poems makes me fear
The problems caused by the lack of inspiration
I shall just have to try again next year
I have thoroughly enjoyed this exercise
1.2.2014
1 I’m writing poetry again And watching QI on TV Am I mightier with a pen Than answering their questions on the BBC
2 The weather is rather harsh now With floods, and gales and you know For those whose homes are flooded Life is hard and then there is the snow.
It follows close on the flooding Leaving water on the ground, The snow makes ice that people will skate on Or go tobogganing in the snow, all around
The fun they have on the toboggan Or the danger of skating on ice Are just the brighter side of the weather this year But the flooding is not nice.
The flooding leaves lots of damage, Mud and slime everywhere you go There are carpets and furniture waiting To be taken away in the snow.
The white goods and cabinets go The oven and fridge are wrecked The Insurance replaces the items When it’s done they come down and check
I feel very sad for those not insured It gets more difficult year on year They have to work to replace every item Often buying second hand gear
Many people need help to lessen the damage We will all pay the price To ease the pressure of flooding With gales, snow and ice