personal
Here are five examples of
poems written for people in respect of various “life events”. Each one was subsequently “made” into a
gift and these can be seen in the “Gift Gallery”.
Double
The Trouble
Double the trouble,
Double the fun,
With two little babies,
Instead of just one.
Two lots of
bottles
Two little
beds
Two little
bonnets
For two little
heads
Double the
nappies
Double the
smell
Double the tales
Of which you can
tell
Double the
mischief
Double the
noise
Double the
mess
With double the
toys
Two little
siblings
With whom Kate can
play
Mackensie and
Lana
Will soon have their
say.
Ian and
Jo-Ann
Blessed from
above
Double the
trouble
But double the
love!
A
Musical Monument
Like a monument to
music,
The Apollo, it did
stand,
Playing host to all the
greats
And up and coming
bands.
From Johnny Cash to The
Stones,
Alex Harvey and
Bowie;
Tina Turner; Boomtown
Rats;
Rod Stewart, Slade and
Free.
The stage stood high at 20
feet;
On huge crowds they looked
down.
They’d bring the noise to such
a pitch,
The balcony bounced
around!
Tambourines and rose
petals,
Guitars and so much
more,
Were flung out to the
masses,
Cheering from the
floor.
Sell out crowds of
thousands,
Meant “bum quotas” were
met,
Earning acts an “SRO”
–
A yearned-for
statuette!
For nigh on 16 years it
stood:
A piece of
history,
Living on through book and
film
And “apollomemories”
(.com)!
One
Hundred Not Out!
One hundred years! – What a
milestone!
A full century not
out!
You’ve seen many a
Prime Minister,
Come and go, without a
doubt.
Two World Wars and more
as well;
You’ve lived right through
them all:
There’s many a tale that you
could tell
‘Bout past times you
recall.
The world’s been
ever-changing,
With new
technology,
But one thing’s been
constant;
Your love for
family.
So on this great
occasion,
We’ve gathered just to
say,
How much we all do think of
you
And to celebrate this
day!
The
House of the Butterfly.
There is a house that's made of stone,
It’s built a-way up
high.
Standing steadfast and
alone;
The House of the
Butterfly.
It’s outside’s cold and
charcoal grey,
It’s window’s, like glass
eyes,
Stare blankly down day after
day
As lost lambs bleat their
cries.
A river twists and turns
along
The valley floor
below.
The wind blows back its own
sweet song -
Through conifers it
blows.
Inside the house, the fire
burns bright,
Flames crackle, spit and
roar.
Embers glow and shed their
light –
Hot steel upon the
floor.
An orchestra of nature
sings,
Beneath a springtime
sky.
Conducted by the Admiral’s
wings,
From the House of the
Butterfly
Life’s
Stage
The World’s your oyster, so
they say,
Now you have reached
eighteen:
You’ve things to see and plans
to make;
You’ve dreams that you must
dream.
And as life’s play unfolds for
you,
May you find each
page,
Holds for you the sort of
role,
You wish for on life’s
stage.
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