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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required REMINISCING ON A CHILDHOOD I have never once considered myself, unlucky, in anyway I’m still very grateful for what I have had back in the day All those childhood memories; of feeling safe and secure Within the folds of my parents, I could grow and mature Never forgetting the responsibility that my family beared Whilst earning a living; with the rod always being spared Long summer days; labouring in fields of green and gold With the fruits of their labours; boxed up, off to be sold The afternoon dinners that was to all such a grand affair With us all given thanks and praises, and the odd prayer Ten sat at that table; as there was always one son away I still remember all of this; even, to this very blessed day Granma sat at one end, grandfather, always at the other Everyone else just crammed in as sitting next to another I always got the place, to the side of my old Grandfather To the wives that were seated, next to my Grandmother The food served, from ornate painted platters and bowls On side plates were lovely freshly made warm bread rolls When not in use, displayed on the old wooden shelf rack Grandma said it adds history if you found a chip or crack To evenings spent shelling peas eating some as we went As the men watched the TV inside to see any local event Winters nights; were all spent playing Monopoly or cards Cheating was rife, but; was done with, laughable regards With laughter all over; we then, slowly retire to our beds It does not take long for us all, to be in the land of zeds Early rise and shine for me, then a walk down by the sea With Grandpa’s wisdom, putting the worlds, rights to be Never ceased to amaze me, just what my Grandpa knew All about my ancient ancestors that I did not have a clue But; all fell into place with all the years that I have grown To be all trapped within the lines, as I again write a poem Maybe in some way, show gratitude, to my folks gone by That I was listening and your history from within does lie Within every part of this soul of mine with a certain pride All of this history; from a mere walk down by the seaside Mind I always called it quits, with his Robbie Burns songs As; by running up the beach, somewhere else I belonged I never understood 'em on account of his Scottish accent But; more than happy was he, as into my ears were sent He loves Rabbie; even said, we were, related in some way Alas; I've yet to find proof of this, as to this, present day But; we are related, to that poet, Donald Glenmore Shaw Recited within that book; Highland Legends, by Glenmore We are even distantly related to that fart George B Shaw After one of his relatives, William; landed on, Irish shores I ponder on my own poetry and, wonder, what they think As Grandpa says; I will let you know after I've had a drink Indiana Shaw . . . : )
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