Gentle Child.

Gentle Child of loves sweet passions,
Bring happiness to this loving pair.
Let both have bounding compassion,
Through that childhood that both do share.
Love and laughter be always with you,
Parental strength guide your faltering way.
Happy tears like fresh morning dew,
Will help you on life's path to stay.
A Mother's love a Father's care by day and by night,
Will help you grow into a child to bring joyful delight.
Thrive Gentle child born of loves sweet passion,
Thrive, grow strong, and fulfil your purpose in living.
Remember your childhood's parental compassion,
And live your life in joyful giving.

poem by Bernard Shaw
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Fairies Call.

A thing that did me enthral,
Was an invitation to a Fairy Ball.
Pixies and Gnomes, Fairies and Elves,
All came to the ball dressed as themselves.
An orchestra of Leprechauns played a tune,
This all took place in the month of June.
Some were dancing while others ate a meal
I remember thinking that this was for real.
There was a banquet of delicious berries and fruits,
Served by Trolls dressed up in their very best suits.
To drink there was some Parsley wine,
Served in Golden Beakers that were so fine.
All in all it was a merry sight,
As pretty little Glow Worms lit up the starry night.
Then at the very crack of dawn,
I awoke in my bed with one big yawn.
I was pleased to have been invited to the Fairy Ball,
And I will listen again for the Fairies call.

poem by Bernard Shaw
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Haircut.

The Barber came to cut my hair,

I told him that it wasn't fair.

My hair had done him no harm,

Without it I would loose my charm.

The Barber he grinned a silly grin,

Said to cut my hair would be no sin.

That I should face it like a man,

But I'm a coward and away I ran.

Do you like sitting in a Barbers chair,

With him chopping away your lovely hair.

[...] Read more

poem by Bernard Shaw
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My Plight.

Bear with me as I tell of my plight,
I am just an old man that cannot sleep at night.
I have counted millions of sheep in my time,
Even written verses that usually rhyme.
Full moon nights are really the worse
For then I am compelled to write more verse.
Sleeping tablets I have take by the score,
These make things worse and cause me to snore.
I have had hot baths before going to bed,
These make my skin wrinkly and red.
Cold showers I have tried to make me sleep,
But I only end up counting more sheep.
They say as one gets older one does not need so much sleep.
When I hear this psuedo wisdom I just want to weep.
When I was young eight hours sleep was just right.
It saw me through a long restful night.
If just for once I could sleep through the night,
I would not ask you to bear with my plight.

poem by Bernard Shaw
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