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Colin Trenholme Poem
‘MO!’
His feet placed just behind the line; that look upon his face
Shows his mind is focused, ready for the next big race.
Enjoys the cheers of all his fans but no time for distraction
Determined concentration as he stands there, poised for action.
The starting pistol echoes and he’s pacing down the track;
Ensures that he’s positioned well and ready to attack.
Knows just when the time is right; a quick increase in speed
As he strides past other runners and gets into the lead.
Time for you to go, Mo, show them that you mean
To be one of the greatest that the world has ever seen.
Time for you to go, Mo, show them what you’ve got
Then we all can celebrate and do the Mobot!
He was born in Somalia in nineteen eighty-three.
Don’t suppose his parents knew that he’d turn out to be
A middle-distance runner who’d be awarded ‘double gold’;
When Farah found his talent, what a future would unfold.
Moved with his dad to England but was puzzled when he heard
This country’s strange new language and could hardly say a word.
His p.e. teacher spotted him and thought that he could show
This boy the new direction-yes, the way he ought to go.
Time for you to go, Mo, show them that you mean
To be one of the greatest that the world has ever seen.
Time for you to go, Mo, show them what you’ve got
Then we all can celebrate and do the Mobot!
Mo then becomes a champion and has a brand new life
With a stepdaughter, two baby girls and Tania, his wife.
A follower of Arsenal and a loyal Muslim who
Believes that fame should ease the lives of other people too.
Sets up his own charity: ‘The Mo Farah Foundation’
Providing water, food and hope to those in other nations.
Families in east Africa will have the chance to grow
New strength since Mo decided ‘That’s the way I want to go.’
Time for you to go, Mo, show them that you mean
To be one of the greatest that the world has ever seen.
Time for you to go, Mo, show them what you’ve got
Then we all can celebrate and do the Mobot-
Yes, then we all can celebrate and do the Mobot!
Copyright © Colin Trenholme | Year Posted 2018
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Colin Trenholme Poem
‘OFF-COLOUR’
It really was curious; it really was strange:
The day that the colours decided to change.
It really was freakish; it really was weird:
When all of the colours weren’t what they appeared.
The police cars were purple with green lights on top
And riding inside were pink-uniformed cops;
Lights switched to red when they meant you to go
And green clouds dissolved into brown flakes of snow.
The fruit was confusing- bananas were blue;
An orange just wasn’t-well, what do you do?
Do you call it a ‘turquoise’- for that was its shade?
And the children rejected that black cherryade.
Teams all changed sports’ kits; ref’s cards weren’t the same;
And Rudolph the reindeer’s own song was renamed.
The dwarfs asked each other ‘Will Snow...Thing exist?’
Whilst the wolf laughed and snarled: ‘Little Red won’t be missed!’
No blackbirds; no bluebells; no green grass in parks.
The sun glared a deep- grey and daytime was dark.
We wore yellow poppies in memory of war
But nobody knew what they really were for.
None of us realised that we had changed too;
But gradually noticed, saying ‘Hey, look at you!’
Black people had brown skin and white were now black;
Brown people were white now-there’s no turning back.
It really was curious; it really was strange:
The day that the colours decided to change.
It really was freakish; it really was weird:
When all of the colours weren’t what they appeared.
COLIN TRENHOLME
Copyright © Colin Trenholme | Year Posted 2018
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Colin Trenholme Poem
‘CALL-UP TIME’
They’ve taken our Danny to war, they have.
They’ve taken our Danny to war.
I wish he’d come home ‘cos I feel all alone-
So what have they taken him for?
Who’s gonna pass on his trousers?
Who’s gonna give me some sweets?
Humbugs and pear drops and tiger nuts too.
And chocolate sometimes, for a treat.
Who’s gonna keep up our veg patch?
Who’s gonna dig up the spuds?
Do all the weeding and planting and stuff-
An’ chop sticks to make us some wood?
Who’s gonna help with the chickens?
Who’s gonna pick up the eggs?
And comfort me Mam when she feels a bit low
An say ‘Just sit down-rest yer legs’.
Who’s gonna help me be grown-up?
Who’s gonna stop me being sad?
They’ve sent for our Danny so what will I do
When I need someone just like me Dad?
They’ve taken our Danny to war, they have.
They’ve taken our Danny to war.
I wish he’d come home ‘cos I feel all alone
So what have they taken him for?
Colin Trenholme
Copyright © Colin Trenholme | Year Posted 2018
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