Mum’s Poems
All these poems are sentimental
Silly me I must be mental.
Chris
My first born always somthing special
My prop, my stay when things went wrong.
From adulthood she’s been to me
My friend so strong on loyalty.
Happy for her when she married,
She left a gap in life for me,
That never filled, that cannot be.
But she’s still there, she’s always caring.
Our joys, our wars, our fun and laughter sharing.
And so my Chris I sing your praises
Although perfection you are not,
Your’ll be there through all life’s phases.
Giving me the best you’ve got.
Anthony
My son. It’s different with a boy.
Again a special sort of joy.
Light of my life he often was,
But bane of my existance too.
As are all males, I think that’s true.
I loved him very very much
But soon he caused me greatest pain
I ever had. Australia called,
He went, not to return again
For sixteen years he’s now been gone.
He’s been home twice and I’ve been there.
It’s lovely and I cannot blame
He’s happy and that joy I share.
But now, he almost is a stranger.
Lynne
My third, again a special feeling
Bossy, busy, clever, caring
My Baby she will always be.
She’s different and so dear to me.
Ambitious, restless, always tired,
Always busy, only calm
When for her baby she is caring.
I prey she never comes to harm.
I love her dearly but I’m sure
She approves of me no more.
My Lynne, so soft, so vulnerable,
A tough outside she somtimes shows
And yet I know she’s always there,
And always will be as life goes.
Annie
In the Autumn of my life
A joyous gift was given me.
With arthritis, gloom and strife
Came Annie as if meant to be
A compensation which she is
A thousand fold, as happily
We play together, young and elderly.
MY granddaughter, now 14 months
Has beauty, charm and sense of fun
Intelligence, of course is there
And how she keeps me on the run.
We play all day, although I’m glad
When sleep puts her to bed at noon
My aching body can relax
But then she wakes, and all too soon
We’re off again playing like mad.
What fun we have
Loving kissing laughing, romping
to “Littlest Love” I give my all,
Wishing she could always be
14 months old enchanting me.
Sam
A lovely smile,
My baby boy
One today, and what a joy
He has been to all of us.
Pity he makes such a fuss
When his Mummy’s not around!
But now with both feet on the ground
He will soon get over that.
Walking after her with pride
He will still be by her side.
Beautiful he is and so
We will love to watch him grow.
“Littlest Love” he’ll always be
No more grandchildren for me.
Mark My first Grandchild
Mark always had me on a string
He often said so, as a baby
That string’s still there
1 think be knows
That always I’ll be caring for him
There he is a young man now
On the threshold of his life
Sensitive a bit wayward,
A lucky girl will be his wife
Charlotte
Charlotte, happy, easy going
Pretty too and scatter brained.
I don’t feel I know her well,
16 years and nothing gained
But I love her and enjoy
Her company, as through life
She charges, full of `0 Mum’s
Full of fun, what a mixture
Not like any other one.
Annie Again
Nearly four, my little friend
I’ll adore her to the end
Of my life however long,
My love for her forever strong
Sweet she is, and so appealing
Self willed, but learning to obey,
The hard way.
Full of personality
No one quite like her for me.
Very best of fun we have,
She’s so fresh and very bright
My little, not now “Littlest love”
I play with her with all my might.
Vivacious, soft, just like her mother.
She has a lovely baby brother!
Australian Line
Another Family have I
In the southern hemispere.
Only once I’ve seen them all
But I hold them very dear.
Little do I knoW Of them
Dawn and Kerrie, Toby who
Was born out there.
When I saw them they were young
Thirteen, ten and only six,
Affectionate they were to me
Accepting with child like trust
Me, to them an unknown Granny
Two great Grandchildren have I
One a boy so very new
And how I’d love to hold him,
And a little blue eyed girl
Toddling now a great delight
She must be to all that love her.
When my plane was taking off
Tears all round were shed.
Now they’re just a memory
In my heart and in my head
Tulip
Smoking on Lynne’s Patio
Oh how cold the wind did blow.
A Tulip flower did Annie pat
Off came a petal, and with care
Annie tried to put it back.
Peter
Our lot in life has not been easy
I’ve tried to help you on the way
But when I really came to need you
There you are, my help my stay.
Nearly fifty years it’s been
Never thought we’d lost the course
But we’re still here, and so it was
Really for better or for worse!
Mum Herself
I am the founder of that lot
A kind and loving heart I’ve got,
I hope they all agree.
My faults, I’m sure! are hard to find
Although I give them of my mind
But anyway, that’s me.
Too late to change me, if they could
I often wonder if I could
In their young days
Have been a better Mother?
Was I indeed too strict with them?
Would they have liked another?
I only know I’m proud of them,
Hard work though they have been.
This tribute to them I do pen
And hope they will remember me
With love and smiles,
That’s how I hope I’m seen.
The Wingates
Thank God there are still 4 of us,
We’ve made it on life’s way.
Joyce and Madge and Chib and Bill.
4 bright sparks who came to stay.
Richer is this planet Earth
Lucky that we grace it.
Lucky too our partners four
What help we’ve been to all of them
What happiness we’ve brought them!
Joyce: didn’t like her as a child
Bossy, overbearing.
But later on she changed so much
Nice, she now is, and caring,
Madge, well, she kept herself aloof,
Sharing not my life.
But great friends we came to be,
And very good she’s been to me.
Me, well, awful I expect
As a girl I was.
Perfect now of course I am.
Life just knocked me on the head
Made me sit up and see red.
Bill, ah Bill, he was my friend
In our childhood days,
Still is in fact, he really cares.
For a man its rare I’m sure
Brother love could not be more.
Thoughtful, helpful
I can only praise
His love for me
His winning ways.
Little and Large 25-9-94
“Little and Large” Lynne called us,
My little friend, and me,
We giggled hugely about it,
As we sat in the shade of a tree.
We’ve come a long way together
My little Mary and me.
We’ve managed to laugh at most things
How many years can it be
That we’ve cared for what happens together.
Little Mary and fat old me.
We’ve had lots of fun together,
Holidays, by the sea
Mary holding her knitting
As a sign she was mad-
Not with me!
But with Bob in the car behind us,
A joke that we shared,
Mary and me.
We’ve argued a lot together
Often not seeing eye to eye
But we’ll always be there for each other,
“Little and Large” till we die!
Before the move.
At last I’m leaving 29
No tears, no regrets, I’m feeling fine.
Frost lies thick on grass and car
Slippery the hill and pavements are.
How lovely not to worry so
When both are thickly spread with snow.
On the whole it hasn’t been
A happy house,
A tranquil scene,
Like my old life,
With lots of woe,
I feel it’s really time to go.
After the move.
Home, my home for 55 years
I suppose it will always be
A part of me.
My babies were there,
My life was there,
My husband too
My past.
Now my shorter future begins
A shorter chapter.
On this dark and dreary Sunday morning
No. 1 Martlets Court
Seems almost hostile in its strangeness.
My life still seems to be
In that drafty, bright little house on the hill.
There, left, forgotten with my cleaning bag
Hanging in the cupboard under the stairs,
Poignant, somehow, that bag that I forgot,
It seems to symbolize my life.
Hard work, maybe,
Three children hairdressing.
I needed some money to call my own.
Gardening, which I hated,
But did mostly unaided,
Because I had a totally lazy husband,
Who thought my lot was to serve,
No wonder he loved me, I cooked a lot,
And even decorated some of it.
And yet, 29 was far from all unhappiness
We laughed a lot
Even though I cried a lot.
I had 3 good friends,
And much later, a good man who loved me
As I deserved to be loved.
So goodbye dear old 29
I have no regrets at leaving
But you will always be my life
OLD?
Is this what growing old can be,
All sorts of pains, no energy.
Something different every day,
Pills to take the pains away.
Is this what growing old can be,
Or is there something wrong with me?
My Turn
Is it my turn now?
Asks my tired old heart
Will I be the next one to depart?
I certainly feel that it won’t be long.
But 73 years have come and gone
And I don’t really mind
If my time has come
To leave this old world
Which tires me so
Don’t really mind if it’s time to go.
Good-byes will be hard
But I’ve done my stint.
They’ll all settle down
And I hope take the hint,
And not be too sad,
That my rest must be had.
Not my turn yet
Says my tired old mind,
Any thought of rest
I can leave far behind.
Toil on I must
Feeling queasy and fat
Pain in my knee
And no bra for my bust.
But 1 don’t have to leave my family dear,
For that I give thanks,
As I’m now in the clear.
Awake
3 A.M. cold, dark and lonely
A cup of tea beside the bed.
I could sleep, I know, if only
Aching limbs were calm and still
And grim thoughts were not in my head.
Feel I can no longer cope
With Peter, sick in mind,
I’m alone and without hope
Strength I cannot find
To deal with him,
He drains me dry
“What shall I do” his constant cry.
Somehow I must see it through
But I pay the price
Tension, dread, I’m so alone.
Being Stoic, oh, not nice.
23-4-90
Minorca
Sunny Minorca? Where did it go?
Certainly not here, where cold winds blow
And raindrops dapple the swimming pool
And boats in the harbour are covered and cool.
Joyce in her eyre looks down from on high
At the concrete jungle up in the sky
Whilst I down below, am cosy and warm,
In my lovely new room tucked away from the storm.
Sangria we like, and supped it this noon
In the wet little harbour,
Until, all too soon,
We fought our way back, in the wind and the rain
To the great big hotel where we lunched once again.
But still, it’s quite fun
And a change and a rest,
With weather like England
Which we both love the best.
Oct. 1993
Lake Garda
Such beauty I have never seen.
It puts our lakes in the shade,
Deep green/blue water
Shimmering in the sun.
Mysterious, inviting, crystal clear
How really lovely to be here.
Mountains. green and high,
Range upon range
Soaring up to the sky.
Their feet in the lake
Peaks kissing the sun.
White patchy rock
Peeping through dense green,
Castles dotted here and there
Awesome looking everywhere.
I hope I’ll remember every minute,
The heat, the pool
Where I cooled myself down.
Dear Joyce, playing mother
I loved every minute
With never a frown
We were happy together
As Joyce led the way
Happy was I, on this holiday.
Almond Trees (Feb. 20th)
Flower buds of the Almond across the road
Are just peeping through, even though it’s just snowed.
Next week pink flowers will appear
Telling us, soon, spring will be here.
So pretty they’ll be,
They don’t last very long
Replaced by bronze leaves,
Less fragile, more strong.
But these lovely pink flowers
We do so enjoy.
All the way down the road
They are our pride and joy.
My Trees (19-11-94)
Dawn breaking, early in a Winter sky.
Those trees again, I see from my bed
Bare, beautiful branches, etched against cold grey
No blackbirds nesting now,
No lush green leaves.
Appealing still, I love those trees.
The Sycamore
Pale bright green against
The cold April sky.
A silver plane floats overhead
Washing, flapping in the wind.
And yet my heart feels just like lead.
But still my eyes feast
On that new green leaf
Etched on the hue
of Spring’s bright blue.
4-4-90
Our HouseBird Song
At 5 o’clock each morning
Just before it’s getting light
I hear the sweetest song of all
A Black Bird, what a lovely sound,
Tentative not clamorous, yet,
Too early in the year for that,
So pure it fills my heart with joy.
I listen, in my lovely bed
And know the pleasure of such purity.
Cockney Sparrows
1 knew the phase so very we11
A “little cockney Sparrow” would tell
Of quick witted cheeky personel
1 never knew from whence it came.
Untill one winter afternoon, 1 stood
With Annie looking skywards, too,
And swarms and swarms of sparrows flew
Chirping cheerfully home to roost
Their song quite battering to our ears
O’er head was black with tiny wIngs
Cockney Sparrows cheeky things
Wingate Robin
There’s a Wingate Robin at Lindum
A luckier Robin than mine.
He’s got a little shelter
With food on Its floor all the time
A nice little pond to bathe in
With a beach beach, really fine.
Visitors too has their Robin,
Blue tits and Grey tits it seems
And look! there’s his friend come to see him
This is his garden of dreams.
1 hope he knows that he’s lucky
My Robin gets bread,
And water to drink from a dish
But maybe he’d feel an intruder
With all “mod cons” such as this.
My Robin 12-12-94
On the high branch of the Sycamore tree
The “Robinson Robin” sings happily.
With cold blue sky above his head
He looks down at me eyes bright, breast red.
Then swiftly down to the line he flies
Where I’m hanging out the washing,
MY fingers ice
And off he goes to the bush beyond
Of my Robinson Robins I’ve grown quite fond
5-1-95
Christmas came amd we went away
On our return, there, heaped on the mat
Was a pile of feathers the culprit OUR Cat.
1 couldn’t find a sign of Red
So hoped the Robinson Robin was safe in his bed
7-1-95
1 saw my Robin this morning
He flew down to show me he’s here
I’ve been a bit worried a about him
So 1 wished him a “happy New Year”
Damp Dawn (20-11-94)
Dawn came late this morning
Streets dark and wet with rain.
6:30, trees just looming faintly
Bidding me ‘Good morning’
Against all odds again!
I’ve just been down to phone my boy
Twelve thousand miles away,
He’s ill and I am worried
But no-one there today.
Glider
A glider is floating overhead
Up there, in the clear blue sky.
So free, so graceful as it sped
Remote and solitary, up high,
A vision swirling by.
That glider I would like to be,
Up there all alone
With that peace and tranquillity
I do so need, for my own.
May 10th 1993
Lament for Summer 1993
Leaves are turning,
Bonfires burning,
The summer that “was not” has gone.
Chilly mornings,
Misty rain.
“Time goes so fast” says Mrs. Stamp
“Spring will soon be here again.”
(Mrs. Stamp in Mum’s acupuncturist)
Spring Hope Early February 1994
Cold winter’s not over, by any means
There’s still frost on the grass
And cold are the winds.
But at six in the morning
I heard the first sound
Of a faint dawn chorus
Spring must be around.
By seven it’s light
And stays so till five,
That’s on a bright day
When our spirits revive.
I’ll put up with the cold,
But I do hate the dark
So on this bright morning
I find hope in my heart.
Green leaves are appearing
On the Elder outside,
Snow Drops are in bloom.
Spring’s come for a ride,
To tell us that soon,
Even though it might snow,
She’s just round the corner
Urging winter to go.
Autumn (Oct. 92)
Pale blue Autumn skies.
Gold leaves lie thick upon the lawn.
Washing hangs limp and never dries.
Late and reluctant comes the Dawn.
Nothing lovely can I see
In the dying of the year.
Old and sombre, just like me.
Rain falls often just like tears.
Yet there are some sunny days,
Both in spirit, and in weather.
Sam and Annie come today,
Lynne as well so for a while
Happy we will be together.
End of Winter
Silver white plane again
In that pale blue sky,
End of winter almost here
Bright sunny days
With gentle breezes
Lovely days so fresh and clear.
The crows are back
In the stark bare tree.
Back to their nest
Where they come each year.
From my window I watch
As they busily build.
Where do they go
When winter is here?
Pussy Willow, buds everywhere,
The soil is rampant,
Full of growth.
Sad winter over
A time of hope.
Peter is home after nine long weeks
Maybe life will be kind.
After such a long time
Of me being strong,
Will luck come along?
19-3-93
Spring
The cuckoo arrives in the middle of night
Bringing his message of spring,
And the tossing blue sea brings fresh delight
As each wave rolls in.
The birds are twittering in the breeze
On the top most boughs they’re seen.
While the cool caress of morning breeze
Refreshes the hill tops green.
The Bees, who have all winter slept
In the hives, are humming aloud.
And into the sky has quietly crept
Silver linings for every cloud.
(Written at age 13 and winning a school prize)
The Fall (Oct. 94)
Crisp and gold lie the leaves
On the untidy lawn.
Gone are the days when we sat in their shade,
Enjoying sweet summer,
Now their beauty is gone.
Now a nuisance they will be
Till they are cleared up, and gone
To the damp old bonfire heap
Where, alas, they now belong.
But we will remember them,
And hot summer days
When we sat in the garden
Enjoying their shade.
Spring Dawn
I woke at 4 this morning
Drinking tea and yawning.
Soon the birds began to sing
And I saw a spring day dawning.
Lovely days, all fresh and bright
Best time of the year.
Smell of new mown grass
All sorts of things
To bring me cheer.
Pale sky, turning into blue
Soon the sun will come
Showing me the things to do
Cleaning house, not too much fun
But satisfying all the same.
Spring means so much
A time of gain.
26-4-90
Snow Feb 14th
Round the corner spring might be,
But today it seems like we
Will be skidding down our hill.
Not me though, I’ll stay still
Inside my darling “Grot Box” home
That my daughters so despise.
To me it’s small, familiar, dear,
I’ve no wish to go from here.
Except, perhaps on days like this
When snow shines bright in lamp-light.
Clinging to trees and cars alike.
My little car will stay outside.
Shopping forsaken,
Me spending the time
Making a steak and kidney pie,
And cake’s in the kitchen,
Where heat will be high.
Marooned are we, up here in the snow
It’s then that I really want to go
Somewhere that’s flat and snug and right
I think that Stockbridge would be nice
But no hope for us at all
We stay here till we get “the call”
Then carried out from here we’ll be
Out tiny home where I brought up all three.
They never complained how poor it was then
Ideas of grandeur came later to them.