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Daily Archives: April 11, 2013

My dad

 

 

I can remember him from my chidhood days,

The man I was proud to call my dad,

Who shared in my moments of pleasure,

And comforted when Iwas sad,

 

He taught me many simple things,

Like how to tie my shoes,

He taught me the gardening skills,

And many skills Icould use.

 

He was always concerned for my future,

He taught me everything that he knew,

The standards to be set in my future life,

And things that should eschew.

 

He taught me to be respectful to others,

To help the disabled and those wno were in need,

Not to look down on the poor and downtrodden,

And to work hard if I hope to succeed.

 

I remember my dad with affection,

And I am grateful for that he did for me,

Not just once a year on father’s day,

Every day he lives in my memory.

 

By Ron Martin

How time flies

 
I can’t believe how quick you’ve grown
These last 3 months have really flown,
Suddenly you are smiling away
Making the sunshine day by day,
The sleepless nights have been so tough
Each morning spent feeling rather rough,
But now you look up at me and you smile
I know each night has been worthwhile,
You are quickly growing, changing all the time
I’m just so glad you’re ours, you’re mine,
Your personality is now shining through
We are now getting to know the real little you,
You love a big cuddle and a great big kiss
As you get older, this I will miss,
I cherish each and every day we have
For I know it will all fly by so fast.
By abbe Cutforth

Hood (The Outlaw Rap)

You see this – it’s misunderstood
 
Man it’s just a hood
 
A big part of my attire
 
But it’s starting to conspire
 
Against me and my generation
 
Next there’ll be legislation
 
By the men in the suits
 
Westminster brutes!
 
I mean check out their gear
 
That’s the look of fear
 
We don’t make no wars
 
Give me girls and dance floors
 
So I can live as a young man
 
Without a plan
 
In an existence of leisure
 
Of unadulterated pleasure
 
Sometimes in excess
 
Often reckless
 
But no threat to national security
 
At my tender age only purity
 
And respect is good enough
 
But what about love?
 
Is there any left?
 
Must I be bereft
 
Of mutual understanding
 
With our elders demanding
 
We keep in line
 
So you see my decline
 
Will make me retreat to my disguise:
 
Behind propaganda and lies.
Stephen Holloway
 
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