Like Summer Even Though It's Winter
Gaze up towards
the pale blue sky
and mourn for the
deep blue days of Summer.
Crunch, crunch go your boots
in the cold snow which has fallen
to lie on the hard ground once again.
The coldness of the winter air
numbs your ears and hands
making you long to follow
Summer to the warmth of spanish sands.
But if that's not possible
take heart in the fact that Summer
will return to banish winter once again.
poem by Andrew Matthews
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The Scales Of Life Balance
Everything I did
when I was at school
was worthwhile at the time.
Even when I would take
the piss out of the teachers
Even when I was being bullied
I tried hard.
Sometimes I would play truant
with my friends
and we would hang around
the golf course and smoke hash
and drink Buckfast tonic wine
or Carlsberg special brew.
When I left school and
started work, that's when everything
went wrong for me, well not
everything, there were also good
things that happened.
Good, bad
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poem by Andrew Matthews
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Here Comes The Summer Sun Again
It is still a cold January,
but it won't be long
until summer comes along.
Feeding the Flowers
Feeding the Trees
Feeding all the creatures.
I am a little impatient
to get out on the golf course
and feel the warm energy of the sun,
the very thing that drives the planet,
the TV's, the radio's, the vegetation,
every watt of power comes straight from it's source.
Walking down the street or on the lush grass,
smelling the sweet heat.
Hearing the lawnmowers and music playing loud and live.
Tasting the ice lollies and strawberries.
seeing beautiful sunsets which make you
feel glad you're still alive.
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poem by Andrew Matthews
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Serene Saturday
Serene Saturday
It's Saturday
and I’m listening to the football
on the radio
It's Saturday
and I’m listening to the football
while slurping my coffee
and having a cigarette
It's not my team who are playing
they play tomorrow
I'm on the brink of falling asleep
but I’m fighting it
My leg is twitching, must be the coffee
I’ve drank too much of it today
Meanwhile my cigarette has burned out in the ashtray
The football has just finished as I wake up,
the classified results are being read out
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poem by Andrew Matthews
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