Variety

IN THE QUIET MOMENTS

In the quiet moments
I can’t remember my fathers face
I try and try but it escapes me
It seems to shift in my minds eye
Snippets of familiarity
Many facets blurring into one
Almost pixelated image
Until now I’ve never understood why
Its because in my memory
He had more than one face
There was the proud father face
The joyful Christmas morning face
The grumpy morning after face
The scolding face
The smiling face
The sad face
And for each of these faces
As we both grew older
There were age groups
He had to many faces to remember just one
So now when I want to see his face
I think of a situation and there he is
SHORT IN STATURE

Short in stature
Tall in stories
Short in grace
Long in charm
Slow in speech
Quick in boast
High in pride
Low in humility
Quick to brag
Slow in denial
Quick to arrive
Slow to leave
Slow to enamour
Quick to bore
Slow on the uptake
Quick out the door
PATRON SAINTS DAYS

St Patrick’s day
Is celebrated every where
“I’m Irish and I’m proud”
They loudly declare

The media never hesitate
To show the people celebrate

Endless Displays of flags and emblems
Accompany patriotic anthems

St Andrew’s day,
Wearing thistle bold,
Is marked with Scottish pride
By young and old

The media never hesitate
To show the people celebrate

Endless Displays of flags and emblems
Accompany patriotic anthems

St David’s day
Resplendent with daffodil
Is marked more soberly
Yet is celebrated still

The media never hesitate
To show the people celebrate

Endless Displays of flags and emblems
Accompany patriotic anthems

St George’s day
Comes and goes
When is it marked?
Nobody knows

The media never hesitate
To ignore attempts to celebrate

With no displays of flags and emblems
Accompanying un-played patriotic anthems

ST GEORGES DAY

Don’t bang the drum
Don’t raise a cheer
The liberals might hear
St George’s day
Must pass unnoticed
Uncelebrated
Unheeded
St George
Must remain
Unheralded
No fanfare
No flags unfurled
Lest we fall foul
Of patriotism
Or jingoism
There must be
No displays
Of Patriotic fervour
Or English pride
We must play it down
Let it pass
Lest we offend
After all this is England

LIKENED TO MY DAD

All my life, I’ve been
Likened to my Dad
A chip off the old block
Birds of a feather
Two sides of the same coin
And just the other day
I was asked
How are you different to your Dad?
I replied that I hoped
In as fewer ways as possible