LOVING ARRYA

Each day a flower blooms in me

Of care, of joy, of love

Of tender feelings for a baby

Warming, as in winter by a glove

Even when I'm busy as a bee

I know its there

Ever growing, ever stronger in its being

Ever tugging at my heart strings

The bliss of having, loving and enjoying

A little boy so amazing.

Arrya makes my life worth living.

He is daddy's little boy
He is mummy's biggest joy

His laugh, his cry, his every sound

Means that happiness has come round

Lifting the spirit

To fighting fit
To bear hurts and pains

and the many strains

Of living, being and surviving.

Arrya keeps my heart singing.

This breast is soothed; this brow is smoothed

No longer restless; never again listless.

I am calm, charmed by his winning smiles

his innocent wiles

the sparkle in his mischiveous eyes

the gurgles and the little sighs.

I know now where I am going

I know now what I am doing.

Arrya gives my life meaning.

AN ODE TO HOPE

I don't like the world but the choice is too stark,
too dark
Why can there not be
A half-way house for the likes of me

This world is rotten to the core
Its getting to be an utter bore, a sore
A pain unfettered
Where fools untethered
Run everything as a birth right
Into the ground so deep, so tight
We have no place to hide
we are adrift, pulled out by the tide.

And then came Barack Obama...

One day the man is hope, the next day, nope
He's not
Yesterday he promised peace, today its only his bliss
His success to secure,
he embraces those who are far from pure
those who made the mess in the first place
So now its like "in your face"
I won the race
its my taste.

Barack Obama
Its early days yet
I can only place my bet.
But, like many,
I feel your first steps to be one huge whammy.

If you stay true to your pledge though
And not hedge your bets to appease the Party whore
You may indeed retain the edge
And make America the Great, the badge
That all will wear to honour the sage, the man,
the first Black President.
He who dare
To make the world a place for all to share.
END