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Jimmy Hoffer Poem
The UK general election,
folk in the streets with no erection.
The tide did not come let alone sweep away,
when looking at folk with no job its dismay.
But pull up youself people should fight,
for rights, for life to earn their right.
Not against each other preaching politics of hate,
or worse still sit on the fence and tax and debate.
Education is key but who reads good books,
people eat better food and Kebabs get more looks.
Just pull to the left and look after your mates,
fight for them and they for you and then we can make.
Copyright © Jimmy Hoffer | Year Posted 2010
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Jimmy Hoffer Poem
We had industry once that the Tories refined,
A nice market and shops – but oh they’ve declined.
Our Mayor gives away shoes and his face to the papers,
Warsop baths and the towns lost bogs are paying his wages.
The paper wants us to write about our special town today,
So we buy it from the shops on our minimum pay.
You can be a cynic through choice but not always by birth,
With my feet under the desk it nestles my girth.
Mansfield town is built on Parliament stone but made from her people,
From Robin Hood to Roy Lynk the only thing that’s not crooked is the steeple.
Copyright © Jimmy Hoffer | Year Posted 2010
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Jimmy Hoffer Poem
Tone was a big fella,
but this toilet was so huge he could swing his legs,
When sat in the position of eternal contemplation,
He swung them,
back,
forward,
back,
forward,
For a moment he was lost,
then he got back down to business.
Copyright © Jimmy Hoffer | Year Posted 2010
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Jimmy Hoffer Poem
I dreamt of love washing upon my shore,
and one day it was there no work just fate.
Desire to build the love wanted more,
but erosion via waves love did bait.
I fought to stem tide as it grew tall,
my sword aloft I swung at its advances.
My brain said we could run away at from it all,
my heart stood sill as dreams spun dances.
The sweat the tears cleared like a forest glade,
to show for the battle I had my spade.
The scars still holy with feelings as waves,
but time digs deep and they push and fade.
Love no longer will wash this beach,
as old as dead fellings no longer will claw.
Detatched from sea air carries real peace,
no direction true love has no flaw.
Copyright © Jimmy Hoffer | Year Posted 2010
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Jimmy Hoffer Poem
The line goes on and time is short,
But the end is not to be seen.
Curved or straight the aim the same,
And English grass is green.
My Blood is red - my heart ticks on,
I wonder what could have been.
My head won - my heart lost,
And English grass is green.
My feet stood still,
Your in a foriegn scean.
The grass under my toes,
my hear blood red.
Copyright © Jimmy Hoffer | Year Posted 2010
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