POEMS
All the poems on this page have been written by me.
I hope they bring pleasure to you when you read them.
Red
1
Tomorrow it is her birthday,
So we drove out to the store,
“To the pet shop” I heard her say’
So I drove on some more,
We found the place in the city,
A good reputation we had heard,
It had to be clean and tidy,
‘Cause my wife she wanted a bird.
2
The aviaries they had in the shop,
Were full of all different kinds,
We looked, till we were ready to drop
And still couldn’t make up our minds,
There were Lovebirds and Ringnecks.
Kakarikis too,
Cockatiels in abundance
All looking at you
With Budgies and Bourkes
And Macaws that were rare,
Quakers and Conures
They were all there.
3
Well the moment it came,
To make up her mind.
And it seemed such a shame
To leave the rest behind,
A decision was taken
We said to the feller
We’ll be leaving your shop
With that Crimson Rosella.
4
When we got him home,
And placed him in his cage,
And read a book about him,
We studied every page.
We gave him lots of water
And made sure he was fed
Then picked a name to suit him
So now we call him “RED”
©Alan jones 2006.
Motorway
Build it long and build it wide,
So cars can go much faster,
Do they care about the lives?
Lost in each disaster,
Were not supposed to worry,
It’s got to be this way,
Must we ignore the death rate?
That grows and grows each day.
I can’t understand,
Why people rush around,
Why can’t they take it easy?
With both feet on the ground,
They poison the air we breathe,
Every time they drive the car,
And the warming of the Earth,
It's already gone too far.
They’ve restricted all the guns,
And all the knives as well,
But the cars the biggest killer,
As far as I can tell,
So please take up your shovel,
Help to bury the dead,
And While your digging graves,
Think of what I’ve said.
Let’s have some legislation,
To try and put things right
To stop all the deaths,
That happens day and night,
But you won’t stop the carnage,
By means of prosecution,
Only when you ban the private car,
Will you have your solution.
© Alan Jones 2007
.
Life Awheel
The breeze is fresh,
The airs so clean,
To my left the river flows,
The soft green verge,
Beside the lane,
Dotted with whites and yellows.
The wheels below,
Make a humming noise,
As they roll along the ground,
Give me such joy,
That special treat,
The pedals go round and round.
I am all alone,
And my private world,
Stretches to where land meets sky,
For miles I ride,
More miles to go,
I watch the birds fly by.
Cotton wool clouds,
Drift overhead,
A hawk hovers above,
His powerful eye,
Is scanning the ground,
To spot the first thing to move.
Mile after mile,
Hour after hour,
Keep’s my heart beating strong,
When cycling along,
Life is so good,
Forever the fun will go on.
There is no pleasure,
There is no joy,
Nothing at all can compare,
With cycling along,
In the countryside,
Inhaling the clean fresh air.
Alan Jones©2007
Luke
It doesn’t seem too long ago,
That little lad was born,
In that hospital room we sat,
Jackie, myself and Dawn,
Whilst in the delivery suite,
Diane gave a supporting hand,
But Sam did all the hard work,
I’m sure you’ll understand,
Now when the struggle was over,
And Sam gave a sigh of relief,
We all went in to see him,
Such joy, beyond belief,
A happy bundle of beauty,
A treasure before our eyes,
An appealing posy of love,
Making music, with his he cries.
He’s so small, so fragile, so tender,
His skin is so soft and so white,
His hair is almost non existent,
His eyes not yet seen the light,
His feet not as big as my thumbs,
And hands even smaller still,
He is our new little Grandson,
So love him, so love him we will.
We had to leave them soon after,
But visit them daily we did,
Until the day they came home,
And goodbye to the midwife we bid,
So now we can guide and teach him
All that is right and not wrong,
Give the nutrition he needs,
To grow up healthy and strong.
Now the little boys name is Luke,
No Skywalker to me, just a saint,
We’ll teach the arts, be it music,
Or if not we’ll teach him to paint,
In life we want him to prosper,
We’ll show him success if we can
He’ll have health patience and humility,
Become a happy caring man.
. Alan Jones ©2007
To Town
Monday morning bright and early,
I jump out of bed,
I’m quickly dressed and soon downstairs,
With breakfast I am fed,
I rush around to find the things
I need to take there with me,
The bills to pay, the cash to spend,
Items I want to show thee.
On with my coat, then start to walk,
My cap upon my head,
In the open air the wind is fresh,
Just like the weatherman said,
I see the line of queuing cars,
And I wonder why,
They pay the price of fuel today,
Then get there after I.
When I arrive I head across,
To the market café,
Where I meet my closest friend,
And hear what he has to say,
We chat over Coffee and visit the shops,
Then call in at the bank,
Another drink then say goodbye,
He waits at the taxi rank.
I head back home a three-mile walk,
The wind is in my face,
Press along no time to waste,
I keep an active pace,
With headphones on, the music’s sweet,
As it goes in my ear,
It drowns out the traffic noise,
Which worsens every year.
Alan Jones©2007
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