People Poems



So many moving figures in the crowd

Where are they going?  Still, they all must be

There with a purpose – all have lives to live,

Each of them thinking of themselves as ‘me’.


The bent, the broken, shuffling along,

The old, the lost, who have nowhere to stay,

The workers, and the tourists marching on,

The young ones, the vivacious, chat away,


A buzzing hive of busy restless life,

A swarm of faces, nameless strange and odd,

Yet each one with a future and a past,

And in the great redemptive plan of God.



The years have passed, the days have flown,

Now fast cars hurtle round the bend;

The well, unnoticed, stands alone,

Its usefulness come to an end.


It was used once, and folks would come

 To fetch their water, then with care

They would return, though there were some

 Spilt water, they could just not spare.


But still, it was a meeting-place,

Where all could come, exchange their news,

Give their opinions, in case

The others verified their views.


So they would gather everyday –

For everyone came to the well –

They’d all say what they had to say,

Tell stories that they had to tell.


And all they said would be passed round,

With rumours flying everywhere –

Now all that life has gone to ground,

The only sign – the well stands there.


The village is a through-road now,

The well, forgotten, by the side;

For all that was is lost somehow –

That happy atmosphere has died.


The wagging tongues, the tales told,

As by the well the people stood,

Those times now called the days of old,

Those golden days, when life was good!



Those precious keepsakes meant to last,

Those treasures no-one kept in mind

All thrown away now – in the past!


Those priceless paintings which we cast

Away, not seeing they were signed,

Those precious keepsakes, meant to last.


Those diamonds so carefully cast,

Those jewels others hoped to find –

All thrown away now- in the past!


Our ancestors, for their repast,

With all those silver spoons once dined –

Those precious keepsakes, meant to last.


Their values, too, are often vast;

That gold so dull, but which once shined,

All thrown away now – in the past!


The world moves on, and far too fast,

Old things, antiques, are left behind,

Those precious keepsakes meant to last,

All thrown away now – in the past!





M.P.s Trying To Do The Right Thing – On Expenses


Time to work out how to pay

For all the things which I have bought;

A place to house the ducks that cost

Much more than I at first had thought.


I know, I’ll put it on the slate,

I‘m sure the taxpayers, won’t mind,

But just in case they are upset,

I will, not tell them, I’ll be kind.


My colleagues say expenses can

Include such things as swimming pools,

And gardens, cleaning out the moat,

And that it is ‘within the rules.’


But what’s that phone-call?  Oh, the Press!

They’ve found out! They knew all along!

Who told them? Oh! It’s all too late!

Let’s just say “We did nothing wrong.”


Then if they ask how much we owe, why worry?

We can take the flak,

And add “We’re honest, all that we

Had overlooked we’ve now paid back!”

Keeping Calm


I sit inside the waiting train,

For this one stops at every station,

And I consult my watch, in vain.


I’m in a hurry, but remain

Resigned – what use is altercation?

I sit inside the waiting train.


For what time can I hope to gain

By giving vent to desperation?

And I consult my watch, in vain.


My patience I try to retain,

Confining my sense of frustration,

I sit inside the waiting train.


We start, then stop.  Now I complain:

I’m told “…it’s rail regulations.”

And I consult my watch, in vain.


But though my overheated brain

Has reached the point of saturation,

I sit inside the waiting train

And I consult my watch, in vain