Author: Sue Young

You’re Never Too Old For The Punk In Your Soul

You’re never too old for the punk in your soul

For your dream and your goal

And to take back what they stole

You’re never too old for the hope of the lost

You know what it cost

It stung like a wasp

A million times stung

And a song unsung

But it matters not

You can turn it back

Flip it on its head

Say feck you instead

Stay humble and sweet

An Angel on your feet

Generous and kind

A non judgemental mind

You’re never too old to mend the hole

You’re never too old for the punk in your soul.

(Fauxcroft inspired me to write this through his poem called ‘No More Gigs For Me‘)

Andrew

Andrew, I met you

At Cleveleys writing group

You have such a bright, warm smile

And your poetry is beautiful and funny

And always entertaining.

Everyone respects and likes you

And your calm and wise demeanour

Make people and poets in equal measure

Gravitate towards you

Because you are generous and kind and warm

But you only give advice

When people seek it

And you support and inspire endlessly.

You encouraged me to write more

You appreciate and enjoy everyone’s poetry

You were diagnosed with cancer

Last month

And within a matter of weeks

I have lost a dear and valuable friend,

Who I was only just beginning to know.

I talk about you in the present tense

Because I feel as if you’re still here.

Here is some of Andrew’s work

Highwaymen Of 2020

We have become highwaymen and women

With our masks pulled tight

Over our nose and mouth

Now, we are in disguise

(But weren’t we always)

Wearing these things are either

An asthmatics nightmare

Or

A rapists delight

False smiles that don’t reach the eyes

Can be hidden

As well as manic grins

And angry little pouts

All of our foibles, now safely

Under that little piece of cloth

The opposite is also true

You can see

The twinkle in the eye

Of the genuine smile.

Measured and Moderate

It’s hard to be measured

And moderate

And daily bread

And not do one hundred things

In one day

And spend the next four weeks in bed

I aim to be measured

And moderate

And in all things temperate be

A fully funtioning member

Of society

I aim to be

The person that people come to

For support and hope

And cake and tea

I aim to be the person

Who I would love to be

I aim to be measured and moderate

In all that I do.

Measure me out

On the scales of human kindness

And hopefully I won’t slide

Further down one side

And just have an equilibrium

That will see me steady

And going down that narrow road

So straight and smooth

Not rocky at all

I’ve stopped rhyming…

But I’m old and weathered

That happens sometimes

When you’re not moderate

Or measured.