I Wonder Where She Is?

I thought of her today
first time in a while
wonder if she's happy
with her amazing smile.
She really was beautiful
with an amazing mind
such a gentle person
loving and so kind.
Those times spent together
talking about everything
watching you make music
and listening to you sing.
You were so enigmatic
with an air of mystery
trying to get close to you
but you needed to be free.
I'm so glad that I knew you
and wish you were still around
you really liked my poetry
and turned the verse into sound.

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poem by Kevin Halls
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Life can be fun

Life can have it's ups and downs
days that are dark and Grey
but it also can be full of fun
with laughter along the way.
Some people just make us happy
they make you feel good all the while
you get out of bed feeling lousy
but their humour soon brings a smile.
There are times you need to be serious
because life has it's moments of pain
but laughter can ease the worries
and bring relief to the stress and strain.
In life you will live and learn a lot
have good times along with the bad
but a beautiful rainbow follows the storm
and a friend can lift you when your sad.
So whatever life may throw at you
try and have a laugh and some fun
and while some people can be cold
others can be friendly and warm as the Sun.

poem by Kevin Halls
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My Nan wants a game!

My Nan just loves her football
she goes to games every week
but she wants to play as well
saying she's strong and in her peak.
But Nan your in your eighties
and your about six stone wet
you have got two dodgy knees
so how can you put a ball in the net.
Your eyes aren't as sharp these days
and you can't walk without your stick
your out of puff walking up your stairs
so a football you'd struggle to kick.
But she's bought herself a pair of boots
and a nice new shiny football kit
all she needs is a team to play for
as her doctor says she's ready and fit.
So keep an eye out for a white haired lady
the oldest footballer playing the game
she'll be easy to spot on the pitch
as she'll be the one with the Zimmer frame!

poem by Kevin Halls
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Proud River

The river flows through the inner city estate
in it I see beer cans, trolleys, and a milk crate.
Two coots sit on top of a mini fridge
a burnt out car lies under the bridge.
A beautiful Swan glides around an old pushchair
in the reeds lie a child's doll and teddy bear.
An electric cooker lies on the river bed
a family of ducks wait around hoping for bread.
In the dirty water swim little fish and a vole
a big fat rat shoots down a hole.
On a branch a Kingfisher sits ready to dive
Amongst this squalor they somehow manage to survive.
I imagine this stream was once clean and clear
Sadly now used as a dustbin year after year.
But flowing through all this waste and decay
this proud river meanders gently on it's way.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Twenty Seven

Poor old Amy Winehouse
she has died far too young
a talented and gifted star
but addictive and highly strung.
She now joins those others
who left their fans in pain
like the great Jimi Hendrix
and Nirvanas Kurt Kobain.
They were so creative
but with minds not at rest
they hit the drink and drugs
when life put them to the test.
Janis Joplin was a great singer
who could really sing the Blues
but her life ended at twenty seven
from too much drugs and booze.
Jim Morrison from the Doors
died at that very same age
he drank himself into oblivion
to cope with his inner rage.

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poem by Kevin Halls
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Football A Way Of Life

Being a football fan is a way of life
it is constantly on one's mind
your thinking about the next match
while going about the daily grind.
Your talking about great goals
and a brilliant player from the past
telling anyone who's listening
that he was skilful and he was fast.
Your living and breathing football
you dream of it in your sleep
even though the team you support
can make you angry and make you weep.
You meet up with fellow football fans
in the pub before the big match
one group of like minded people
talking about football over pints and a batch.
Football on a Saturday is all that matters
nothing else can stand in it's way
all of life's worries are put on hold
while the football fan watches his team play.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Writers Block

He was going to write a brilliant poem
probably the best one he'd ever done
but when he sat down at his desk
the inspiration just wouldn't come.
No matter how hard the poet tried
to get some ideas down onto the page
nothing worth writing about arrived
leaving him on the verge of rage.
Then an Eureka moment hit him
while listening to the ticking of the clock
he'd write a poem on the frustration
of that dreaded writers block.
He ended up writing five verses
about a poets worst nightmare
when your wanting to write a masterpiece
but end up pulling out your hair.
So the moral of this poem must be
that writers block isn't so bad after all
as you can use it as a poetry subject
instead of sitting there staring at the wall!

poem by Kevin Halls
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I'm Not Bitter!

You always did like fruit
Grapes were your favourite
we had so much in common
crushed down and trampled on.
You also loved Potatoes
so that was the reason then
you had a chip on your shoulder?
Money was also high on your list
but because you didn't have any
you always liked to spend mine.
Your friends meant a lot to you
but for some strange reason
you disliked all of mine.
When I was out working
you liked to stay in bed
then moaned when I was tired.
Men are from Mars you said
and Women come from Venus
but what planet were you from?
Opposites attract so they say

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poem by Kevin Halls
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The smells of Football

Football has it's own smells
from the grass on the pitch
to the aroma from the Hot Dog stalls.
In the dressing room there's sweat
strong odour coming from ointments
being rubbed into aching muscles.
On the terraces you smell beer
years ago there was tobacco too
on Boxing Day the whiff of cigar smoke.
As a boy my mothers washing powder
making my kit smell nice and fresh
and getting rid of mud and grass stains.
The smell of leather of a new pair
of football boots and new ball
and layers of thick black polish.
At the half-time break in a match
onto the field came a large tray
full of sweet smelling and tasty Oranges.
These are the smells of Football
the odours of the Beautiful game

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poem by Kevin Halls
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A cup of tea such a British thing

It's something we have always done
whenever we have got worry or anxiety
do we reach for the whisky bottle?
No, we just have a cup of tea.
It seems to ease all of those worries
whatever the time of the day
do you need to solve a problem?
then have a cup of Typhoo or Earl Grey.
Whenever someone comes to visit
like an engineer to fix your T.V.
the first thing the householder may say is,
'would you like a nice cup of tea? '
I bet if aliens invaded British cities
do you know the first thing we'd all do?
would it be to flee and run and hide?
No, we'd just offer them a brew.
So even though things are looking bleak
and the cut backs are causing misery
you can bet all the char in China
we'll all still enjoy a nice cup of tea!

poem by Kevin Halls
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