They always want to see them
Whenever they come home –
The movies of the “olden days”
Before they left to roam.
“Show the ones of Christmas
Or the baby ones of me
Or times on Martha’s Vineyard
On the beaches by the sea.”
We marvel at how young we were.
We gambolled in the waves,
Made faces at the camera,
And built sea-creature caves.
We laugh at all the birthdays,
Baby hands all frosted cake –
We point out all the relatives -
Who’s that, for goodness’ sake!
The Christmases of long ago
Show up with gifts galore!
We’re still in our pajamas,
Piles of wrappings on the floor!
It doesn’t seem that long ago -
Those days so far behind -
And the movies bring them back,
As we watch the past unwind.
Categories:
gambolled, family, humor,
Form: Rhyme
The Charge of Boris's Parliamentary Cohort of three hundred lawmakers
I
Forward the light brigade!
Was there a dude dismayed?
Though most should have known
Cameron had blundered.
Theirs not to make reply!
Theirs not to reason why!
Theirs but to do or die!
Spurning the fear of Death
rode the three hundred.
II
Farage to the right of them,
Corbyn to the left of them.
Bannon in front of them
Volleyed and thundered.
Stormed at by the press,
Onward they rode in stress
Into the wilderness,
Oh, what an awful mess!
Rode the three hundred.
IV
Can ever their great deed fade?
How high that price they paid!
All the world wondered.
Praise to the charge they made?
Praise to the Light Brigade?
Intrepid three hundred!
Categories:
gambolled, history, military, political,
Form: Political Verse
Upon the sun caressed rock we sat
Swaying shades of trees we watched
Above, singing birds in delight flew
We played as gentle breeze blew
Gambolled like lambs to enjoy more
That was our heaven we longed for
Dawn to dusk we delighted all days
As in green fields we had fun always
We never took life as a roll of dice
Never we spoiled it with any vice
Best was when all our dreams came true
Love showered from angels on us, too
They gave us hope certain as the sun
As the air made us serene and strong
On teen's journey little troubles brew
Honest friends to confide were not few
Our world was so fair and so pure
And happiness, so sweet and so sure
That I wish I could live teen again
Those days with no storm and no pain
But now like lambs fatten on lab food
Teens today try something far from root.
Categories:
gambolled, memory,
Form: Rhyme