Vinegar valentines
I hate having to see your face,
You're nothing short of a disgrace,
Never shall you be a princess,
You look a bloody utter mess,
Inside me there's caustic disgust,
You'll spur only mad men to lust,
Bless you striving to look your best,
Your efforts make you look possessed,
Be gone for you're but a blemish,
You've a look that's somewhat freakish,
No I don't think my words are harsh,
You're sporting a god damn moustache,
To my senses you're an offence,
You've none to come to your defence,
I rue being your acquaintance,
You've utterly no elegance.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Armistice Day, remembrance
For all the sacrifice of life,
For the orphans and widowed wives,
For all the questions asking why,
For the sorrowful heartfelt cries,
Honour fallen who played their part,
With monuments that stand in hearts,
Honour the brave and show support,
In silence where they fill our thoughts,
For all that past countrymen gave,
For the freedoms that brave acts saved,
For all that soldiers overcame,
For the war veterans and those maimed,
Marked by the eleventh hour,
And a sea of poppy flowers,
Marked in the month of November,
By every soul that remembers.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Bastille day, French revolution
After a costly foreign war,
Injustices angered the poor,
The king didn't much seem to care,
So calls to rebel filled the air,
Once passions had begun to stir,
Blood spilt so power could transfer,
The status quo began to fear,
Whilst the left felt their day was near,
Fuelled by an unfaltering will,
Revolution dawned closer still,
Brave souls stormed and took the Bastille,
Then celebrated the ordeal,
Hailed were the seeds of the king's fall,
First by few nationals then by all,
The chance to bare one's heart and soul,
Unites the country as a whole.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Summer flowers
Flowers so colourful and bright,
In their glory in the sun's light,
At home amid the summer's heat,
Giving out a perfume so sweet,
The summer flowers are perfect,
In near enough every aspect,
So effortlessly they distract,
As one's attention they attract,
Countless different kinds carve their mark,
Throughout every meadow and park,
There for us to enjoy and pick,
As we waste our days and frolic,
Such beautiful gifts flowers make,
Though not when sentiments are fake,
They prevent scenes from seeming bleak,
When they're absent they're what we seek.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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London Olympics 2012
As prowess swears it will transfix,
People's anticipation peaks,
From shows of strength to aerobics,
Men and women sport toned physiques,
Competitors do not relax,
Whilst honing each refined reflex,
Sporting careers reach their climax,
Sweat coats the skin and muscles flex,
People gather to show support,
While athletes on their marks get set,
We see the very best of sport,
Which we are sure not to forget,
As each event's about to start,
One's brought to the edge of their seat,
The years of preparation plays its part,
So that the athletes can compete.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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St. Patrick's day
Make sure you wear a touch of green,
For where there is 40 shades seen,
Be sure to have a shamrock on,
And honour the national icon,
Praise the patron saint of Ireland,
Make the most of the events planned,
Parades that began in Dublin,
Spread further than you'd imagine,
A brief break from observing lent,
And fasting in which days are spent,
Enjoy that from which you refrain,
For one day no longer abstain,
The air fills with cheer and singing,
Streets fill up with crowds and dancing,
Minds full of care will soon have none,
Once celebrations have begun.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee
Time to show thanks to her Highness,
She's served her country with prowess,
Honour now all that's come to pass,
At street parties fill up your glass,
Toasts made to Elizabeth's health,
Unite realms of the commonwealth,
For that to which the queen made oath,
Respect and praise she is owed both,
There's a lavish use of bunting,
Everywhere's made to look spiffing,
Celebrations promptly begin,
Events for all to partake in,
On the Thames there grows excitement,
Crowds watch the Jubilee Pageant,
Marking 60 years on the throne,
A party of a lifetime's thrown.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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First frost
A creeping cold we're to behold,
Coaxes kingdoms into its fold,
A cruel crusader from the north,
Seems ever to make its way forth,
While Jack Frost's coming is fabled,
One woes over what it'll herald,
Early is already too late,
The warmth of day is made to wait,
Bitter from loss seasons before,
Now readying to wage a war,
With the change brought by the first frost,
The charms of autumn soon are lost,
It seems winter's march shall not cease,
The chill in the air shan't decrease,
Ground is covered with crystal dew,
That's lost when the day's sunlight grew.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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English maid
The sight of a fine English maid,
Calls for attention to be paid,
Her Celtic beauty is displayed,
With harmony hearts strings are played,
Locks of hair of a shade of red,
The kind of girl you'd dream to wed,
You'd chase her wherever you're led,
Cannot get her out of your head,
Skin fair as a summer's day cloud,
With ease standing out from a crowd,
Holding herself both tall and proud,
With great grace she has been endowed,
To her you will happily bend,
Her honour you'd rush to defend,
Time in her arms you'll crave to spend,
Few others with her can contend.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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Diagnosis
There's not a prince for everyone,
So trust is given out to none,
Though the poisoned fruit might not come,
To fears it's easy to succumb,
Whilst within a crafted cocoon,
In time there'll sound a sullen tune,
As envy brings about a gloom,
Which brazenly aims to consume,
It seems there's nothing to be done,
And there is nowhere to hide or run,
There's nowhere that feels like home,
In worlds in which minds shouldn't roam,
Once tired of being kept down,
Seek that in which sorrows can drown,
The escape is at first welcome,
But with time there will come wisdom.
poem by Christian Lacdael
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