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September 30, 2014 / AdamWritesPoems


There are tears, of course there are tears,
but a death isn’t really tragic after so many years,
so we should be celebrating your wonderful life:
your nine children and committed wife,
your family that seems to grow by the day,
who will all miss you now you’ve gone away.
But as I sit here, my eyes are wet,
not with sadness, but tears of regret;
for not spending enough time with you when I could,
not enjoying your garden or the hunts for firewood,
being the distant relative even when I lived near,
and a virtual stranger since moving down here,
for thinking of visiting you as a chore,
not making the effort to see you more.
But we don’t know what we’ve got ‘til it’s gone,
and now one of the good guys has passed on,
so I need to say, as I try not to cry,
“I’m sorry, Paddy. Goodbye”

January 17, 2014 / AdamWritesPoems

Labour of Love 2

This is a poem about birth from a father’s perspective. It compares the the second time round with the first, which I wrote about here

This time they gave us a date,
but this time we still had to wait
as we were fourth in line to be sent
and a string of emergencies came and went.
So my wife waited in the hospital heat,
thirsty, and with nothing to eat
but, when I was away in the loo,
they came to say my wife was due.
This time I was still asked to wait outside
on the same plastic chair where I’d sat and cried
so, shaking and pacing the floor,
I peered through gaps in the same theatre door.
But this time there was laughter in that room
as they poked and prodded and anaesthetised her womb
and when I was eventually let in
instead of tears, my wife had a nervous grin.
This time, behind a blue cloth screen
I heard doctors working away, unseen
so I relaxed and held her hand,
together facing a birth the way it was planned.
and our girl was delivered by those unseen heroes,
who measured her weight and counted her toes
and when they had her clean and dried
this time she was able to stay by our side.

October 3, 2013 / AdamWritesPoems

Whether or Not

We all sit down to watch the news,
really an excuse for a cheeky snooze;
through war and politics we quietly nap,
waking up to see the weather map.

Then we listen intently to our TVs:
Is there a heatwave or another big freeze?
Should we take a coat or wear our shorts?
The answers are in the weather reports.

Nothing makes us panic like a bit of snow,
when it’s time for work we can’t go,
the slippery roads giving us a fright
so we stay at home for a snowball fight.

We’re all perplexed when the sun comes out,
our reddening faces shrouded in doubt,
so charcoal is burned and hosepipes are banned,
and bikini-clad girls are on the newspaper-stand.

We only like it when the sky is grey,
with sporadic showers throughout the day.
Anything else and we’re all complaining,
we’re only happy when it’s raining

October 1, 2013 / AdamWritesPoems

Fatherly Badvice

Now that you have started to grow

there are some things I want you to know:

Do the things you think worthwhile,

love the people who make you smile.

Everybody has a story to hear,

individuality is nothing to fear,

so be yourself, be proud,

don’t disappear in the crowd,

and don’t care what the neighbours say,

their opinions don’t matter anyway.

Don’t vote for anyone wearing blue,

who aims to protect the well-to-do.

There’s no shame in ever needing aid

or seeking help when you’re afraid,

so support the people who need a hand,

learn from those that you don’t understand.

Wear a poppy but don’t go to war;

is anything worth killing for?

Trust no one who believes in prayer,

but know you can’t prove there’s no one ‘there’.

Don’t worry about the chores left undone,

don’t ever read ‘The Sun’,

but read the books that keep you late,

leave food you don’t like on your plate,

listen to music, sing every line,

never heed advice, especially mine. 

August 15, 2013 / AdamWritesPoems

This will not de-foetus

Read more…

July 4, 2013 / AdamWritesPoems

Saddest looking of all the fish;
Every sea horse has a special wish:
All they want is love, and care,
Heat, shelter, some food to share.
Only then will it choose to stay,
Remaining here to grow, and play,
Sticking with us for while,
Eventually learning how to smile

May 31, 2013 / AdamWritesPoems

Not Wel Not Fare

Unemployed? Skivers? Workshy bums?
Or people let down by Etonian chums?
As they pass ‘back to work’ interviews,
adding to numbers in Job Centre queues,
the unwell are forced to seek a job,
to the glee of the Mail-reading mob
who resent the disabled, needy and meek;
and politicians who can’t live on £50 a week
force the young to work as a pound-shop slave,
whatever happened to ‘Cradle to Grave’?
So people fall through society’s holes,
pushed by Government’s ideological goals,
taxed for bedrooms they can’t afford to heat,
they have to choose which meals to eat,
struggling just to stay alive,
in a society where foodbanks thrive.