Mums Poems

Ens ured

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Sat, 22 Feb 2014 22:42:00 +0000

They had a very enjoyable lesson Professor Lupin had brought along a glass box containing a

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Father’s Day

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Thu, 14 Jun 2012 07:22:00 +0000

Who am I ? can you see me?

I have a dream to be a hero just like you.

I wish I was as strong, as tall,

And grow to do what you can do.

You hold me close and smile those eyes,

Your smell is warm and calm.

Who am I ? can you see me?

I want to squeeze underneath your arm.

You make me safe, you are my hero,

I wish to tell you every day.

But you are not here with me, I’m sorry,

I lost you on the way.

Who am I ? can you see me?

Whisper sweetly in my ear.

For I am strong and getting better,

Even though you are not here.

Who am I? can you see me?

I know the answer , you hear me pray.

You are my father, you are my hero,

Miss you dad - on father’s day.

The best to come

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Sat, 16 Apr 2011 08:56:00 +0000

I met a man the other day his face was grey and cold,
He said he yearned to turn back time and not be quite so old.
He said he’d wished he’d been more kind and loved a little more,
I saw a tear run down his cheek; he looked down to the floor.
I touched his arm he looked so sad, he made me want to cry,
He told me always try your best, be kind and never lie.
I asked him if he had a wife or children living near,
He said he was now all alone and wiped away a tear.
He smiled when he remembered her - his wife from long ago,
He said he’d wished he’d told her that he really loved her so.
He told me he had wanted fame and money in his youth,
He trod on everyone he met but now has met the truth.
I smiled at him, his eyes were blue he seemed a nice old man,
He asked if he could sit with me I said of course you can.
I held his hand we sat like friends in silence just as one,
I must have slept and when I woke the old man he had gone.
I walked back home and thought of him all grey and cold and sad
And now I know the best to come is - what I’ve always had.

A dozen tears

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Fri, 01 Apr 2011 11:22:00 +0000

There are people that are worthy of great things, people who talk with their eyes,
There are people that see like a blind man, people who reek of stale lies
So rise like a butterfly above them, look down on their sadness and greed
You are the blossoming flower and they are the trampled on weed
Some of us grow and spread goodness over the oncoming years
Others are drowning in bitterness in dozens and dozens of tears.

Dad, It’s me

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 09:26:00 +0000

Why do you listen but never quite hear, when I tell you again, Dad it’s me.
Who is that man in the mirror you ask, Dad that’s you, but still you can’t see.
Who is that stranger, why is she here, tell me why did she come?
I take hold of your hand and whisper (so she can’t hear), Dad that’s Mum.
I wish I could make you better Dad, I wish it would go way,
I wish to have you back my sweet Dad, please for only one day.
I would tell you I love you, and then let you be,
I miss you and I will never forget you, hey - Dad it’s me.

What can I do?

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 09:05:00 +0000

I've given up drinking cos its bad for my liver.

Given up waiting for the post to deliver.

Given up watching the news cos its sad.

Given up smoking cos we all know its bad.

What shall I eat when its time for my tea?

Is there anything left thats good for me?

Cant use my car cos I cant ever park.

Cant walk about cos I'm scared of the dark.

My bike isn't safe in the cycle lane.

The doctor's too busy to sort out my pain.

Oh dear, what a sorrowful state I've become.

Any offers of help or advice anyone?

The Cuckoo Bird (Feb 1976)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 15:41:00 +0000

The old lady sits on her window stool, watching the days go by.

She watches the spring flowers growing and follows the birds to the sky.

Her life was so full of romantic things, until one day her husband was gone.

Then all the windows clouded with tears and the cuckoo bird stopped in mid song.

Alone in her house on the top of the hill, her garden a forest of green.

Shambles and thickets overgrown in a heap, how tidy and neat it had been.

She once had a daughter with long auburn hair, her husband had gloated with pride.

But she grew to a woman and wanted her life, so she upped and sailed with the tide.

Leaving her mother and father so hurt, they wondered where they’d gone wrong.

Her father collapsed with a broken heart and the cuckoo bird stopped in mid song.

The house was so dusty and musty and old, so dark with the years it had stood.

Then one day the wind brought the rain from the town, so it dampened and rotted the wood.

The old lady sits on her window stool, thinking the days won’t be long,

Till her husband would come and take her away and the cuckoo will finish his song.

I wish

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 05:20:00 +0000

I cried that day my father died,
I cried for the daddy he was to me.
I cried for my mother, my brothers and me.
I long for his warmth, his strength, his great pride,
Oh God, I wept the day he died.

I love him, I miss him, I want him to be,
Back here with my mother, my brothers and me.
I wish I had told him I'd loved him so,
I wish I had said it years ago.
It would have been nice, I wish I had tried.
I cried that day when my father died.

My son's son

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 09:02:00 +0000

My first born child, my eldest son,
So warm, so sweet, such joy.
Now all grown up to be a man,
That gorgeous little boy.
You‘ve always had my father’s heart,
So strong and proud and true.
And now a son for you to hold,
A carbon copy too.
Your boy if lucky will be just like you,
How good that makes me feel,
I gave you what I hoped you’d need,
A world that’s true and real.
Thank you for this lovely boy,
Already my heart he’s won,
A mother’s love, a nanny’s tear,
My son , has now a son.

Chris, James and Andrew (for my sons)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 06:36:00 +0000

It is never too late to remember,
and it is never too soon to forget.
You are never too low to go under,
and never too high to regret.
You can never repair what is broken,
but always kiss better what's sore.
You can never retract what is spoken,
and never walk back through the door.
Living will never be simple,
and people will always be fools.
But remember I'll always be there,
when life means you break all the rules.

The guy in the bowler hat 1973 (for my brother Steve)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 14:38:00 +0000

The street corner shivers with darkness,
The people that died were too fat.
Their minds were possessed by the fear,
Of the guy in the bowler hat.
The scar on his face was too ugly,
The people who died were too thin.
Their minds were possessed by the fear,
Of the guy with the coloured skin.
He lives in a world full of magic,
The people who died were not sure.
Their minds were possessed by the fear,
Of the guy who lives with the whore.
In fact the whole damn world was uncertain,
The people who died were not planned.
Their minds were possessed by the fear,
Of the guy with the case in his hand.
The bible said Jesus would return to the Earth,
The people who died believed that.
Their minds were possessed by the fear,
Of the guy in the bowler hat.

Dreams

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 10:30:00 +0000

Dream a dream thats full of sun,
Not sadness hurting anyone.
Dream of me and wake and smile,
The hurt will leave you in a while.
I'll always be there in your heart,
I always have, right from the start.
I cannot ever go away,
I'll always be here every day.
And when I'm there inside your sleep,
Smile for me, don't wake and weep.
I come because I need to see,
You are okay, - without me.
Dream no tears but love and pride,
I'll always be right by your side.
Sleep a nice dream always then,
Love from me forever, Len x

Brown eyes that turn so blue

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 10:29:00 +0000

A sweet young man you were back then,
So strong, so brave and true.
And now you look into my eyes,
Brown eyes that turn so blue.
I wish I'd said I love you,
A sadness I will hold,
Forever in my broken heart,
Thats turned an icy cold.
Please think of me in your hurt mind,
I cry for you each day.
I wish I had you back with me,
I wish there was a way.
Please don't forget me ever dad,
I love you more you see.
Your heart is always very near,
A living part of me.

Into the sea

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 10:29:00 +0000

We give you away today,
Mum, Steve, Rob and me.
We give you away to this place,
The place where you wanted to be.

A last parting gift from us all,
Your wish, then your soul we set free.
In our hearts, in our eyes, close to us,
We will leave you to sleep with the sea.

We love you, goodbye,
With that smile in your eye,
You'll watch us,
As we set you free.

A beautiful day

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:57:00 +0000

A monster came to my head last night,
It drove all my daydreams away.
It asked me to give it my innermost thoughts,
I didn't know what to say.
It grew and it grew till my thoughts all spilled out,
Crying and screaming outside.
I scrambled to push them back in again,
I thought that I must have died.
Blackness and darkness, nothing but space,
The silence was deafening to me.
The monster came back to finish me off,
But this time I'm ready you see.
I dreamt of a meadow, a peaceful place,
The monster it couldn't get in,
It tried to break down the wall I had built,
But I knew I was going to win.
The monster was thrashing and writhing about,
But I kicked it and pushed it away.
It got down on its knees and begged me to leave,
I awoke to a beautiful day.

Hannah my angel (for my granddaughter)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:56:00 +0000

An angel came into my life today,
She came and she blew my world away.
She came with her innocence, her charm and her smile,
She shook my heart and my head for a while.
And if I could hope for a thousand things,
I'd wish for Hannah who came, without wings.

My Dad

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:55:00 +0000

I remember the landings, the hurt from the war,
But what's that chaps name, the one from next door?
What is the time now, should I get dressed?
Two pairs of pants, three pairs of vests.
What are they saying, what do they mean?
Are those clothes mine? are they dirty or clean?
Is she my daughter, my wife or my aunt?
Do I really have to water that plant?
I cannot remember the month or the day,
I don't understand you, what did you say?
I sometimes get muddled, an ache in my head.
Did I eat dinner, or breakfast instead?
The doctors appointment, I cant think when,
I'll fold up those tissues again and again.
I know I' a muddle and hard to be with,
and don't understand the world that I live.
Where are my keys, are they left by the door?
How can I remember, how can I be sure?
You look like my daughter, she doesn't live far,
and I am happy to see you, whoever you are.

My Mum

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:55:00 +0000

M is for making the best out of me.
O is for the others you always see.
T is for the troubles we both have shared.
H is for the home with you always there.
E is for ever that I'll tell everyone.
R is the reason that I love you mum.

Home and Free (for my grandmother)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:54:00 +0000

So sweet, so warm, so nice to be,
So close to you, so home and free.
A mother's love, a warmth so true,
A love you shared, a love we knew.
We will miss you, our own way,
We'll meet again another day.
We leave you now to go to sleep,
But only sweet tears we will weep.
So sweet, so warm, so nice to be,
So close to you, so home and free.

Can’t you see?

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:53:00 +0000

You are a bully, can’t you see,
What your hate has done to me?
I cannot dream, I cannot sleep,
All I do is fret and weep.
I sweat, I itch its nerves you see,
Look what you have done to me?
I hate your face, I hate your eyes,
I hate my pain and all the lies.
I want to be a different way,
Not dreading school another day.
Can’t you see its you that’s bad,
It’s you that’s weak, you that’s sad.
I think tomorrow, I’ll change my way,
I’ll hit you back, not run away.
Standing smug in front of me,
Is that the way you have to be?
I dream about a time that’s good,
You’d like me if you tried, you could.
You are a bully can’t you see?
Leave me now, let me be free.

Do you care? (for Winnie)

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:53:00 +0000

Alone she was, when she died in her bed.
Did you care when she died?
Were you there when she cried?
She died with a heart that hung heavy with pain.
Did you care? you weren't there,
When she died on her side.
No one looked at her, no one saw through.
No one could care, people like you!
I cried when they told me, she died all alone.
With no warmth of her skin,
That clung to her bone.
No food in her stomach, no one to care.
Why did she die? why weren't you there?
Because you were busy, you just didn't care!
Alone she was, when she died in her bed.
I'll not forget, she is stuck in my head.
Bless you old lady, now you are free,
Remember her sorrow, she could have been me!
Were you there when she cried?
Do you care that she died?

London is burning

noreply@blogger.com (James) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 18:52:00 +0000

London is burning, our city is red,
Red with the blood, the blood from our dead.
London is burning on the seventh of July,
Why do our friends our loved ones die?
Wicked and cruel, no justice for us,
A battlefield? no, a tube and a bus.
Have you no sorrow, no love like me?
What do you have where your heart should be?
London is burning, our city is red,
Red with the blood, the blood from our dead.

Remember, remember them.

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 12:13:00 +0000

Those soldiers, those young men, so made up with pride,

Remember, remember them, we lost them , they died.

Those fathers, those husbands, those daughters , those sons,

We lost them ,we loved them and they are the ones.

Who stood up with courage all dressed green and grey,

Remember, remember them, and forever we pray.

A small little token, one poppy of red,

To remember those brave ones, the injured, the dead.

One minute of silence, to recall and reflect,

For the fatherless babies these sad wars have left.

We will buy one more poppy , and think once again,

They did it for us, and we will remember, remember them.

My wall

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 11:15:00 +0000

Sometimes I feel so bad, confused,
A woman choked, a woman used.
It’s hard, it’s like a wall for me,
A veil of black, a dream so free.
At times I feel a guilt so bad,
I ache to laugh and not be sad.
I dig so deep to hide the pain,
This hurt will never rise again.
This pain, the anger, this fear I see,
That you will do the same to me!
I have a cut a wound so sore,
I bled, I cried, can’t cry no more.
I hate it but I have to hide,
I build my wall, it’s safe inside.
Inside my shell, I’m soft, it’s me,
One day I hope you’ll set me free

It's perfect

noreply@blogger.com (Andy Callahan) — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 09:49:00 +0000

Its the perfect way that a perfect day,

Smothers the night with a calm.

Its the perfect way that you look today,

As you shelter me under your arm.

Its the perfect way that a perfect smile,

Can brighten and colour your face.

Its the perfect way that a perfect mile,

Can end with a four minute race.

Its the perfect way that the things you say,

Can turn my eyes into tears.

Its the perfect way that a perfect day,

Can turn into perfect years.