not one to give upborn to the plownot one to give up1 day ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
strong back weak mind
never chased paper
fiery but kind
simple life few worries
resigned to be alone
always dreaming some day
house could be a home
not one to give up
faith slowly grew
prayers still get answered
GOD gave me you
After She Grew UpMe and my sister, dancing while cleaning,After She Grew Up3 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
Listening to folk-rock on her phone.
I jump and wave; she's swaying and leaning:
A temporary glimpse of the carefree zone.
Not quite free movement, but on a kind of loan.
It takes me back, about three years,
Dancing to the fiddle at our uncle's flat.
Fearless, I thought, while not seen by our peers;
The only stares came from where old strangers sat.
Well, then we could dance; we'd no care for that.
She's quieter now, or I remember wrongly,
Her past speech compressed to a shorter time.
Now she looks down when I look at her fondly,
And makes all requests in a kind of a mime;
And never will dance without shutting the blinds.
maybe ill beMaybe ill bemaybe ill be2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
This was me, Hiding like a mouse
In a tiny plastic house.
Id often wonder what I would be
What would be the older me
Maybe I’ll be a actress like those lady’s on telly
With lovely hair and a small tummy
Wearing pretty dresses and holding props
I love dressing up and being over the top
Maybe ’ll be like daddy strong and tough
Have big muscle and be really buff
Perhaps ill fight crime like batman
But more likely ill just be his fan
Maybe I’ll grow up to be a mum
Having kids of my own could be fun
I could teach them so much and love them lots
Or maybe ill just have cats instead of tots
Maybe ill be a artist and paint
Drawing people and other things quaint
Ill create masterpieces that the world will adore
Probably ill be a cleaner mopping the floor
Maybe ill be a sailor and travel the sea
I wonder of the adventures waiting for me
Perhaps ill find treasure buried underground
Or maybe it just a dream that will never be found.
Maybe ill be a racer in a red
The Red Brick House where We were YoungIvy climbed the south wall,The Red Brick House where We were Young2 days ago in Traditional Fixed Forms
slowly to my sister’s room;
Mum and Dad cut it down.
Always getting low grades,
shut inside her room she drew.
Ivy climbed the south wall.
Phone calls home from school
Parents’ shouts; I walked to comfort,
slowly to my sister’s room.
Her drawing on the kitchen wall:
a messy, playful sketch of me;
Mum and Dad cut it down.