Poems by Andy Bate.
Bad Robert.
Bad, bad Robert,
What have you done,
The victor by default,
Campaign with the gun.
No food or shelter,
Them who dare oppose,
The scars on their backs,
They dare not disclose.
Bad, bad Robert,
The man of the failed dream,
But while you have breathe,
You still have time to redeem.
Everyday another loss,
The tears of a mother,
Bad, bad Robert,
Let there not be another.
Slip away and fade,
The time for change has come,
Slip into the shadows Robert,
Realise what you have become.
Andy 21/7/2008
* * * * *
Fading away in care.
The mirror seldom lies,
I am old, fading and gray,
The spark of youth just a memory,
I think near is the final day.
Faded skin and blurry eyes,
Stooping and slow to speak,
Old age has sapped my will,
Now so very slow and weak.
A comfortable chair and a blanket,
A stick to aid me when I stand,
Glasses to read even large print,
An ever trembling hand.
My children visit and show me photos,
Talk a pointless talk,
If the sun comes out,
They treat me to an aided walk.
Three meals a day and a carer,
Never too hot never too cold,
Forever sat in a circle,
Life for me now I am old.
A little room with a view,
A panic button if need be,
Like a bird in a cage,
Getting old did this to me.
So I just sit and wait,
The doctor called again today,
His kind face says it all,
I am slowly fading away.
My life was so very good,
But now it is so very slow,
So now I will lay me down to sleep,
Time for life to let me go.
Andy 20/7/2008
* * * * *
She’s a runaway.
She’s a runaway,
She’s leaving home,
Her life in a rucksack,
She’s all alone.
She has a little money,
A ticket for the London train,
She had to save her mind,
Too much anger too much pain.
She’s overcome with emotions,
The bright lights and self pity,
Her money went so fast,
So now its cardboard city.
Sees the world at its worst,
She has nothing to eat,
She is hungry, cold and homeless,
Begging bowl at her feet.
A night or two in a hostel,
A bed and a roof with a leak,
Vacant faces all around,
Nobody has the will to speak.
No streets paved with gold,
Just a life in cardboard city,
Always looking over her shoulder,
She is just too pretty.
She’s a runaway,
She left her safe warm home,
She’s just another lost soul,
A runaway all alone.
Maybe its time to swallow some pride,
Beg a coin for the phone,
Beg forgiveness and ask for mercy,
She knows they want her home.
They will come to get her,
An end to her nightmare,
Tears and warm embrace,
Yes, they really do care.
A happy ending to her plight,
Being a runaway is so hard to be,
Back at home they can talk it through,
Home sweet home she can see.
Andy 21/7/2008
* * * * *
Copyright reserved. Please do not reproduce without consent.