Category: Textual Encounters

Hope Is Long

Hope is long

When you’re born.

It’s longer than a cold, cold night

And keeps you nice and warm

Hope is deep

When you take your first step

It goes up past your waist

Gets your ears wet

When you go to school

Hope trails right behind

Sometimes tangles up

But is always there to find

And when you are a teenager

And school is done

Hope becomes a lasso

To catch the sun

And in your twenties

There’s nothing you can’t do

Hope is like a coat

That looks really good on you

And as the years go by

And your youth, it flies away

Your hope becomes a friend

That you cling to every day

And you take life’s knocks

The bores and the thrills

The birthday cards stop coming

And you’re left with all the bills

And that door that is closing

Is getting harder to push

The dreams have all grown up

And they don’t come and visit as much

And you’re standing there one day

And you suddenly start to think

What happened to your hope?

Is it beginning to shrink?

It’s no longer dancing

Bright eyed and bushy tailed

Shorter than an ankle sock

And looking rather pale

You can’t wrap it around anywhere

It’s not flexible or strong

In fact, it’s disappearing

Where did it all wrong?

One day you look around you

And hope has surely gone

It either ran off with the milkman

Or hitchhiked further on

So now, you have no option

There’s only one thing left to do

You must create some new hope

And forget the one that flew

No time to waste – just time to sit

To mend and stitch and sew

And knit yourself a new hope

That will never ever go.

The Time I Got Lost

I’m standing by the sweets

And I shuffle on my feets

Now I see that mum was right

When we got into a fight

About how much they cost

The time I got lost

I think I might just sit

I’m not brave a bit

I’m in such a fix

‘cos I’m only six

(well, five and a half)

My tummy is in knots

The time I got lost

I wish that people cared

Now I’m getting scared

The cleaner pushed his mop

I couldn’t make him stop

And I got sploshed

The time I got lost

Corridors of food

But I wasn’t in the mood

Normally I like cheeses

But I am by the freezers

I’m afraid I’m going to cry

Frozen fish with one big eye

I’m in the ice caps of Iceland

Oh, why’d I let go her hand?

I fell down on my knees

Won’t someone help me please?

I was truly in the frost

The day I got lost.

And out among the toys

There were only naughty boys

And dinosaurs that roared

and trolls that made me bored

With goo dripping from his fangs

The monster – there, he hangs!

He thought he was the boss

The time I got lost

And now she runs towards me

Oh, look, it’s mummy

All she does is grins

My world no longer spins

So afraid I thought I’d be

That I did a little wee

But now I am found

I’ll soon be homeward bound

And all is not lost

The time I got lost.

I Love little Furry Things

I love little furry things

that whizz across the floor

That no one can identify

It makes me love them more

And if they have long tails

It doesn’t induce fright

And if they have big whiskers

It fills me with delight

I love little furry things

anything rodent shaped

That might crawl up your leg

And make the faint heart faint

I just don’t get it

Why are we scared of them?

They’re soft and they are fuzzy

From where did our fears stem?

Why do they scare the elephant

When it is so big?

Why do they scare the human race

When they’re the size of a small wig?

Oh, I love little furry things

That dart across the floor

It’s true, they nibble a lot

But they don’t shout or roar

I love little furry things

That get eaten by cats

They’re much smaller than us

So don’t kill them in traps

So, the moral of this story stands

Well, there is no moral really

Just be kind to those of us

Who are small and cute and furry.

 

Colours

I was black and I was blue

With a yellow purple hue

Bruised because of you

So thank you

I was grey and I was down

Because of you, psychotic clown

You know you broke my crown

So thank you

I am grateful for your stink

Because it made me think

I started to be pink

So thank you

You took me to the lows

I went from China Rose

To red as Drinkers Nose

So thank you

But now I’m on the rise

The colours are surprised

They’ve suddenly got wise

So thank you

I’m not as green in game

You’re the quagmire heat of blame

You’re the dirty brown of shame

So F you.

 

He’s Coming Home

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

I’d not forgotten his face

Or the sound of his voice

I’d not forgotten his smile

My heart gave me no choice

I would close my eyes

And count to ten

And have the crystal clear dream

I’d wake up from again

But I’m not asleep anymore

There’s warmth from the sun

And bad times are over

This war is now done

He’s coming home

After all this time

He’s coming home

At long last, he’s mine

It might take a while

To finally feel free

But he’s coming home soon

He’s coming home to me

 

 

 

 

After Years Of Darkness

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

After years of darkness

The light is shining through

After years of darkness

The sun is now in view

We will be together

When we were so alone

We will be together

Now you are coming home

After years of darkness

It’s looking brighter now

Let’s chase away the darkness

And make up the years somehow

Now there’s tears of joy

Instead of tears of sorrow

We have a new today

We have a new tomorrow

Now it is our time

Hope is on its way

After years of darkness

You are home to stay

The Story Of The Poppy

Image result for Creative Commons Photos of Poppies

The soldiers were courageous

But in battle they did yield

And John McCrea, he lost a friend

On Ypres fighting field

He wrote Flanders Fields for him

His soul he laid out bare

He wrote about the poppy fields

For every soldier there

The slender graceful poppy

Sprouted where they lay

So that we would think of them

Every Remembrance Day

They grew in their thousands

And proudly there they stand

This hardy little flower

Grows on barren land

American lady, Moira Michael

Made poppies of silk to sell

And Anna Guerin, brought them to England

And boy, did they sell well!

It was The Royal British Legion

Who sold nine million poppies on

Remembrance Day

Back in nineteen twenty one

Over one hundred thousand pounds

That first appeal did raise

Which helped the Great War veterans

In those very early days

The Legion, along with Major George

Houston’s factory line

To this day, produce nine million

poppies, every year combined.

Scotland wanted poppies too

But England’s were all gone

Lady Haig set a factory up

So Edinburgh had one

A story of a little flower

A symbol of life and not of death

Its beauty blooms to give us hope

And help us never to forget

Harvest Festival

Food comes from the land

But also from above

Nourishment, goodies

Joy and love

Birds don’t work

And flowers don’t toil

Yet the birds, they still eat

And flowers bloom in soil

A harvest of hope

For those who have none

Whose troubles and woes

Are still far from gone

Through our heart and soul

We plant our seeds

We watch them wither or grow

Through all of our deeds

Let the abundance of crops

Be proudly on show

Now is the time

To reap what we sow

A Brighter, Better Springtime

Let’s celebrate this season

It’s springtime at last

So far, we’ve had heat waves

And cold winter blasts

A spiritual awakening

A time for hope

A moment for faith

An era for growth

While we may not have sun

That’s warm enough to burn

The cycle of life

Has finally returned

There’s a bitter side to spring

Many people get depressed

Overwhelmed by expectations

To be their very best

Spring is when many

Mental battles are fought

And not just at Christmas

As is commonly thought

For some, spring is often

When morale takes a dive

It is also when people

Take their own lives

Outside is now thriving

But inside not so

The heart may be frozen

And cold just like snow

When I was summer

I resisted spring

But now I’m in Autumn

It’s a wonderful thing

I hope that they see

Through the dark and the grey

A light shining through

To a brighter day

I pray that all

Of the shadows are chased

For those who can’t smile

When the sun strokes their face.

-Sue Young

Vanished Into Thin Air

My 18 year old daughter got a job

as a magicians assistant

But one day came home

Sobbing

The magician had ‘too many hands’

“He’s like an octopus,” she said

and More Besides, but

She Wouldn’t Tell

And I delved into The Magic Circle

Learned some tricks

And armed with a rusty saw

Went to see the magician

And made him Vanish Into Thin Air

-Sue Young

I wrote this just lately but it is based on a real experience that happened twenty years ago. I was 26 and a colleague of mine was 18. We were both on a drama course and were given the opportunity to apply for a job as a magician’s assistant. I was going to apply but at the last moment had misgivings, can’t imagine why and I didn’t apply. The 18 year old girl applied and got the job very quickly and easily. Perhaps a little too quickly and easily. I was really pleased for her but at the audition, he asked her to take her top and bra off. It was that kind of magicians assistant. She didn’t do as he asked and she didn’t take up the job as a result. I was both surprised and relieved that she hadn’t done as he asked because she was so niave and had injured instincts and let men paw her left, right and centre normally. (I’ve been there myself, so I know) So glad that she took a stand on that one. I’m pretty sure it was touch and go.  Just remember feeling protective and upset as a result.  And it’s only now as a wiser woman, with a wisdom and a confidence and an anger, that I didn’t have at the time, that I feel I would actually take some revenge. Or at least entertain the thought. Maybe not revenge but some action. And I’m sorry that I was too young or too selfish at the time to do that. She may not have been my daughter, but she could have been and as an older, wiser woman looking back, those feelings rise up now.

And that’s where it comes from.