poem Number 205 - School Children Of Yesteryears - 2/3/1987

The screams and yells of today’s school traveling children,

Bring back some of my golden memories of years,

Some of them are replayed with today’s growing children,

Some of these are attitudes, which have disappeared, although.

In the early years of primary education,

I was lead by my mother, to the school.

In afternoons, I waited to be picked up, by my working class parents,

Who in turn, would be keen to listen to all the eventualities of the day.

I remember one special day, when I so tried hard,That day, was a prize winning target, for jokes and laughter,

Known to all as ‘The teacher’s pet award’!

In later years of my Primary education,

There I had learnt what being bashed up (before and after school0,

Was all about and I didn’t take it, so kindly,

I told my parents, who in turn told the principal, who in turn took no disciplinary action.

Over to a newer more sensible school where dressing was the trademark,

It took me, years to find and make good friends,

Trying different guys, each year,

But to my surprise, I had won many a friends, in the last year.

It was my sporting interests, of which I had to disclose,

And show the strength in sporting major sports.

With my own activities as a captain of the ‘Second Eleven’,

To publicizing the ‘athletics’ and ‘first fifteen’ on the school P.A. system.

It was for Mathew Reed that got myself started,

His fitness at long distance and also his character,

I told him as the ‘Captain of the Athletics’,

That I would go to every meeting that was held.

So there I was, school learning with shouts of joy,

To every ‘Waverley College competitor of blue and gold’,

They were encouraged to perform at their best,

To win all the events of the day, ending up so excited about winning.

The next was Rugby Union, where I got to every game, after playing soccer,

To be number2 cheerer against a loud mouth caller,

Calling out the individual names at each player, by mockery,

Which enhances their individual ability to perform, very well.

But there was a game of a draw, where the teammates were upset: all in all,

This was the second last game of the long season.

And even I was moved at this!

So during the week, I had my own planned tactics.

These were set simple but hardly anyone would do it,

For it would take guts and firm determination, to do what I had done.

As a non-elected prefect of our year, I awaited on the queue,

Deciding when will I have the guts to go up and tell.

The assembly was not going to be long,

The assembly was for Andrew Ugarte to receive the Prefect badge.

I was waiting to be brought onto the microphone,

To speak to seven hundred students, of all ages.

Nerves and all tensed nerves, were clutched in the written paper (held in my hand),

Maybe something like receiving an award for not doing anything.

Was the total complete feeling, I had been feeling within my self,

Never before I had brought myself forward, to speak, publicly to a crowd.

And just for one moment………just for one flash of a moment,

I was thinking of what the guys in year:  would say to me afterwards.

Would they cut me off from themselves entirely and roar out to me, with laughter?

No. I thought not of evilualities, thoughts of the shock and goodness for all.

I rushed my words while I had the assembly quiet as can be,

The words of sweet support drowned out of my mouth, first.

The after affect was of entirely complete satisfaction,

A self-satisfaction that would lead to more than strength, to me.

Then the ‘Pat on the back award’, was repeatedly commented to me,

The headmaster’s reply to me personally, was showing his care towards me.

The Saturday of the big game arrived at ‘Knox County’,

And I scored my third goal and last goal of the year.

My mocked speech, jokingly knocking every player: one by one,

Made sure that this would ensure that a bit of revitalized spirit, was put back in these young men.

I wasn’t as nervous speaking then, like the School assembly,

And now I could see cheers and smiles creep up, in their stirred faces.

Applause from the coach, including the team was thanked to me,

My heart wanted the result of the team to be the result of my speech.

And yet, Warwick Negus before stopped me: warned not to speak to the team,

My answer to that was that the team resulted in thrashing the opposition 36 to 9.

The main feature of the game,

Was when for small minute I felt the fame.

When the players carried me off the field,

When by right it should have been our team captain.

Poem Number 204 - Result Of Good Production - 17/2/1987

As time will pass on, from the younger generation to the youngest,

As tears will be shedding from an injured young girl,

Let those who don’t want to be educated properly,

Be free of their own thoughts of mind and will.

As parents give birth to our children and they grow in pain,

As our children will be the parents of their future children,

They that don’t want to participate in our whole world,

Should be locked away on an island, with no assistance given by anyone.

They that feel unwanted by others are they that oppose themselves to others,

May the cheers and happiness fall upon all of the good peoples.

May they stand up proud and look upon their lives,

As being the excellent final result of good production.

Poem Number 203 - Without Any Hell - 16/2/1987

They that change to hurt one’s desire,

They that enforce the law and the order,

They that direct, by more than one language,

Are they the ones who’ll end up being in hell, like guinea pigs?

Anger and fully inflamed emotions don’t disappear,

They continue each every single day, to grow the hatred against the others,

Disappointment is a momentous occasions with each minute,

Then verbal disagreance appears. They want to exploit your mistake!

To them, you put on a brilliant show of appreciation,

Daily, ‘thanks’ and ‘thankyou’s’ are only said by you.

When you turn around, the whispers are silent,’

And then while you are looking ahead, there are increases in voices sounds.

They’ll storm down through your pathways,

They’ll come running down with whips, touching your back.

They’ll threaten you in all ways, but one:

The one you are self-forced, in to do.

Mother’s nature and god’s mankind, is out there somewhere,

Trying not to commit all of ‘The T en Commandments’,

Trying to lesson the individual human’s pressures from outsiders,

Making life so easy to enter heaven, without any hell.

Poem Number 202 - Young Son - 12/2/1987

The olden days of remembrance, of my school days,

Reflect joy and the problems of reaching puberty.

In primary at St. Canice’s there were girlish games we played,

Hopscotch, movie stars and skipping, but we grew out of them!

I remember one day, I’ll never for forget till death,

Is the time that my teacher, pinned on myself: an envelope with stars

Somehow stating that I was the best pupil in the class, on that day,

And yet, I remember busting my guts, to get that award.

My Mum and Dad were wondering what I had on my shirt,

And when they finally read it (as they drove to pick me up,

Their surprised reaction showed overjoyment of satisfaction,

The faces of proudness, of their young son!

Poem Number 201 - Mystery Past Love - 10/2/1987

Man:                What did make us break away,

                        Far from our fun loving days?

                        Was it too much love,

                        Spread between us?

Woman:           Oooh! Maybe if you rinse your sweet little face clean,

                        To show your true colors of your fresh skin,

                        Maybe, you’ll see clearly your self, in the shadows:

                        The torn deepen woods, in-between us.

                        Just think of the good times we had always had.

                        Never think of the worse, than that of the bad!

Man:                I feel shocked. I feel startled.

                        To hear those words, make me feel so guilty,

                        I must tie a hangman’s knot,

                        So that my head will be hanging from the noose:

                        Every swing I will have,

                        Will take more of my breath away, for me to die.

Woman:           Every swing will bring disaster!

                        Every breath is what you need to live!

                        Come and be cheerful with all the friends you have hiding from,

                        Come and be merry and let happiness shine upon you.

                        For best days of your bright future,

                        Will be awaiting beautiful maiden, ready for marriage!

Poem Number 199 - To Be Found And Cared - 2/2/1987

A sad touch of what thought to be a delightful moment,

Made a light change to my own excitement.

Such that, it was ‘Julie’ had never called me,

That was the end of a small beginning!

My heart; not so strong was befitting,

Waiting for at least another night out or two.

But, as it turned out for better or for worse,

Again, it was I, at who was left at the tail end of a horse.

There are other options (of the other sex), out there,

To be found and cared for on my own field.

There are more than ample activities for me to work on,

To occupy my mind on clean, pure and innocent things.

At least, I didn’t leave ‘Julie’ pregnant,

To leave her on her own, to be self-feeding a child.

No bastard on earth should leave a woman like that!

To be left finding any kind of crusts of bread, in the street. 

Poem Number 200 - Car Driving - 2/2/1987

Poor old John had no car for too long,

And survived by everyday of public transport.

It was all right at first, to him,

But this feeling didn’t last too long, for him.

Personal, private pressures and an old jealousy or two,

Kept reminding himself of his car-owned driving days:

No major worries of time distance and know how,

No serious headaches of annoyance of response.

Now he drives with such joy to ease,

Finding a better happiness, in lifestyle,

Whilst thoughts of purchasing new parts are constant and daily,

To keep the parts of the car driving, forever and forever.