Another rant about the education system versus teachers - prompted by something on local radio.
Education, education, education, was it Tony Blair who said,
Stuff your child with education, fill the brains inside each head?
We’ll tell you how to do it, we know much more than you,
We’ll send in our inspectors, so you know what to do.
Planning sheets in triplicate, your marking up to date,
A tick is just not good enough, write comments to debate!
Spend hours on your admin, then off to school once more
Teaching children! We’d forgotten! The job we trained you for!
Don’t expect encouragement to build your confidence,
We’ll criticise and damn as we sit by broken fence.
We’ll say you’re satisfactory – which used to be quite good,
But we like to move the goalposts, make our findings clear as mud.
We’ll leave notice to improve or place in special measures,
Much more you need to do, to educate our little treasures.
Another year draws to a close, soon goodbye twenty twelve.
Reflecting on what might have been, the plans we've had to shelve.
Look forward to another year, whatever it will bring.
A cure for Parkinson's perhaps. Oh how my heart would sing.
When all is said and done I think we all have to believe,
That things are getting better and there's much we can achieve.
For in a world of rapid change, whatever's going to be.
We can be sure of many things, I think that we will see,
Technology's headlong advance continue, you'll agree.
Medical marvels yet to come will take your breath away.
A cure for almost anything, I think we'll see the day.
So come on twenty thirteen! Come on and do your stuff!
Of the fruits of human genius we can never have enough.
Nobel prizes well deserved for those who shape our destiny.
The good men do lives after them, to the benefit of many.
Enjoyed reading your poem, Christo.
A Million Miles of Parachutes!
You see them climbing mountains or crossing continents by bike
You see them jump from aeroplanes or over deserts hike.
They seem quite inexhaustible, their smile as broad as long
Why is it then, that to their club, I certainly don’t belong?
You can see me each new morning, struggling out of bed,
Crawling the only way I move, ‘til meds fill up my head.
A million miles I cover between upstairs and down,
At least that’s what it feels like, no wonder that I frown?
I cover quite a distance in my fight to feel okay,
Dyskinesia and dystonia cancel marathon run today!
But I do use lots of energy when restless legs get going,
Panic attacks and stumbling, health is just not glowing!
I will not grace the pages of a glossy magazine,
Showing how much money raised as a matter of routine.
Mountain climbing I can’t do, if it ever did appeal,
How strange it is how Parkinson’s makes different people feel.
I’m glad some take on challenges to endure and to succeed,
To raise the funds required, to find the cure we need.
For me I’ll keep on knitting, as and when my hands permit,
Whatever there is that I can do, to feel I do my bit!
Lin. Good poems both. Enjoyed.
And Christo. Good poem too- let's hope it happens.
And now a very simplistic rhyme!--
AS I SEE IT
I view the world from rose-tinted specs.
No dark patches and no grey flecks
Mar the picture in my mind's eye
Of an El Dorado for the poor passing by.
The pavements they are paved with gold,
All for the taking, none to be sold.
The hungry now can dine so well,
The homeless find a place to dwell,
The unclothed can choose new attire,
While the sick are cared for, peasant and squire.
I take off the specs, am no longer blind,
And see the riches and wealth now declined
By common sense folk with wisdom to spare,
Knowing happiness bought is an accomplishment rare.
A free for all philosophy will rarely succeed,
As it does not allow for the average man's greed.
The strong and the powerful shove others aside,
Taking the weak and the powerless for a ride,
A rollercoaster ride with less ups than downs,
A scenario playing out in country and towns.
I can to this problem no answer provide.
Specs on or off, in no way can I guide
Those who are willing to hunt for a clue,
To the path they should take to help me and you,
To a better world for all, whatever their means,
Old, young, middle-aged, babies or teens.
Those now in power alone hold the key
To open the door to a fair society.
All we can do is observe and take note,
And when the time comes, make sure that we vote.
What pointless toil
And wasted craft,
His hands cut,
Brow beaded in sweat,
His steel chisel cold,
His hammer spark’d,
For one who lived,
To weigh him down,
Though he is dead,
And let others know ,
Who knew him not,
That they are stood ,
At his burial plot.
I've climbed the gallows rung by rung
And retrieved the deccies one by one
From the dark cold void
They call the loft
Where beams are hard and knees are soft
I've wrestled with a plastic tree
That clearly has less limbs than me
For each year the struggle is more intense
As the loft gets fuller with evidence
That we all have more than we need
But have to keep tendering that seed
My wife will cover the tree in silver and gold
In pastels and peaches
New and old
But in the end we'll still have to buy more
Cos dear friend
Thats what Credit is for.
marcel - i did enjoy the stonemason very much. there must be a better word than 'enjoy' for when its a melancholy subject but i can't think what it is.
ps there's no way i could get into a loft - you are doing well!
Good descriptive word, Turnip. What about "appreciate"? I too appreciated The Stonemason. Excellent poem.
It is always good to hear from Marcel and read such great poems.
Here is one to add to the latest Parkinson's campaign.
Sympathy and Understanding
I try to be quite positive, I do not wish to groan,
There’s nothing much more boring than those who always moan.
But I have Parkinson’s and this IS a special week,
To let everybody know the kind of help we seek.
So many things are difficult that never used to be,
Getting stuck in any doorway, one thing that happens to me.
It’s not because I’m fat – though I’ve gained a stone or two!
The narrowing of my path means gaps I can’t get through.
I’m immobile every morning and crawl upon the floor,
Family just walk round me, have learned they must ignore
Mother on her hands and knees, with medicine will get going,
But how long it’s going to take, there is no way of knowing!
I’m often stuck and trembling , wondering how to move,
Feeling second-rate but trying hard to prove,
Your sympathetic understanding of the obstacles in my way,
Reduce difficult limitations which challenge every day.
soberingly good, Lin.
Do I like Christmas ???
Christmas comes but once a year
Once too much for some like me I fear
All that hustle, bustle and expense
Shoppers searching so intense
But shoppers take so little time
To notice disabilities like mine
Banging and bumping me out of the way
Just to get stuff they can get any day
Christmas shopping fever has altered their mind
One track only searching for that special 'find'
And people with PD are a nuisance to them
'Get out of my way you silly old man'
Can't you see your holding me up, and some
I must get more shopping before this day is done
otherwise I'll miss all the bargains , you understand me
Go play in the traffic I really don't care that you have PD
Ah well I think I'll have a Coffee in Starbucks instead
For out of the way is better than dead
I'll stay there until shoppings over for you
Yes i'll be occupying a table I know , but what can you do
I'm past caring what you & others will think
I'll just be oblivious and slurp up my drink
'cause shopping to me is oh such a curse
And as you now know it's not just from having an empty pensioner's purse
And sitting there watching that madding crowd
Will make me want to shout out ever so loud
Lemmings and sheep are acting like you
Calm down my dears or a heart attacks due
Yes Christmas comes but once a year
I love it of course with family dear
But only when the shopping is done
And then we relax and have us some fun
The blank page stares at something over my shoulder,
It is finished, it has gone, they vanished into the ether.
So I lose myself in other ways, reaching out beyond the void,
I watch my peers. while they while away time, at wordplay.
Thoughts flirt and drift and in micro seconds, leave my brain,
Adulterously they choose to be in other’s songs.
You my cold hearted friend have the excitement of the tryst
Whilst I with sour breath, can but sing along.
It is high noon and freezing in this the last chance saloon
The stage left yesterday but all the seats were taken.
This is no cards sharp gambler with aces up his sleeve
He was however, amazed, as he flattered to deceive.
You can only play the cards that the dealer doles to you
And when you see the hand that is when you choose
Holding precious hearts, he chose to leave the game
It is in the ether that those illusive words remain.
Do not come knocking on my door
I'm not letting you in
I'm going to barricade all the exits
You aren't drinking my gin
You drink and eat my mince pies
Then you go and drive your sleigh
How come you never have a problem
With the DVLA
You gives me stress every year
Then you get all the thanks
You work one day a year
Don't have to bother about tax
This year ill be drinking my gin
And eating my own mince pies
So just don't come a knocking
So stuff your presents up your
Does anybody actually like Christmas? I can't say it appeals to me all that much!
Hello Bogman - here to stay, I hope.
Does anyone else find Formula1boring now?
There was a time when I was young
I took an interest in Formula One
But now It's re- arrange the following words
"Dry watching paint like", not me anymore a racing nerd
No, Not for me i'm sorry to say
It's now too boring, it's had it's day
I'd now rather spend the two long hours
Well , doing anything really, even arranging flowers
Yes Anything rather than spend my leisure
Looking at cars in formation going
Round and round , where is the pleasure
No, it's better with flowers , or wait for it,even sewing?
Now an extra race in Turkey for next year is due
Me I'd rather have the blinking flu
Than listen to that constant roar
No more F1for me , I've shown it the door
I know of course that others love the noise
Good luck to them and their little toys
I hope they enjoy the engines roaring
But For me it's just too blinking boring.
Some of us get a bit tearful sometimes these days I think, so :
Grown men crying I hear you say
Well not me no bloody way
I' m a man not a mouse
The women do the crying in our house
How can someone with a full set like mine
Whimper and sob - what a waste of time
Crying At the TV or at a film show
No No No not me no way NO!
Hang on What was that about my Mate , Joe
your only a bloody Doctor what do you know
What's that Joe 'I should say goodbye'
Do you mean that he is going to die
Damn what's that stuff running down my face
With my macho mates I'll be in disgrace
A grown man crying even under stress
God, They'll next have me to wear a bloody dress
What's that Joe you say thats he's gone
No he can't be, you must be wrong
God There's that stuff on my face again
I'll just tell my mates it's beginning to rain
Oh God hold back the tears no more can I
I'm just so sad I just have to cry
Who'd have thought that this tough guy
Would feel such need to cry and to cry
The story my forum friends, is thus far
That no matter how hard we all think we are
There will be times when we must give in and try
To Forget how we used to feel , just let it all out & cry
Further to my post in Book Club for 23/11/12 here's a few verses one I wrote and sent to a couple of friends:
On the road to Winterhaven
Came the homeless man, unshaven
Dressed in clothes from the charity shop
Move along there Hobo said the local cop
So off he went down old Main Street
Holes in his shoes and ice on his feet
The snow kept blowing in endless flurry
The wind was biting, get shelter quick, better hurry
Else frostbite will get to his toes
What will he do then, heaven knows
He knocks on doors but no one hears
So wiping away the frustration tears
He settles in a shop doorway
And to keep warm begins to rock and sway
But In this doorway there was no wind
Looks like God tonight is being kind
So sheltered now but not quite warm
He stops the swaying and lies down
hours later he's up and about
Been raiding the bins for what, last night's trout?
Then he heard what could have been a voice
But was it wind or person, must make a choice
Snap out of this cold inspired oblivion man
Yes snap out & answer as best you can
Mister, mister are you alright ?
Don't tell me that you spent the night
In this doorway in the freezing cold
"Well that's one way to ensure you don't get old"
Hooked yet, yeah, we'll so was I
So i bought the book, gave it a try
Couldn't put it down 'til the end
The best two quid you'll ever spend
DECEMBER MORN :
The morning streetlights' orange light,
Gently illuminates the retracting night,
Which like a magician from its black cloak reveals,
Sugar frosted hedgerows and fields,
A brand new day, crisp and clear,
Dressed approprately for time of year,
With long since abandoned spiders webbs',
Now adorned with ice crystal baubles instead,
And berries ripe and plump and red,
Draped invitingly over hedge and shed,
And then , the picture at once complete
The cheerful Robbin at my feet,
Resplendant in his yuletide dress,
The ceremonial master in his Christmas best