Poems by John Peter Read

As life unravels,be brave and bold,
Never criticise,neither grudges hold.
Live in harmony,with your fellow man,
Following nature,as our lord planned.

Always listen,far more than you speak,
Avoid all rumours,for it's truth that you seek.
When others criticise,and do you wrong,
It's forgiveness itself,that makes you strong.

Possessions are worthless,it's your inner self,
Family and loved ones,are your true wealth.
Let go of the past,and what else is to come,
Live for the moment,before it has gone.

As we journey,along life's twisting road,
They'll be many things,we cannot control.
Stick to your path,do not go astray,
Every obstacle you encounter,becomes the way.

Positive thinking,no negative thoughts,
The more you listen,the more your taught.
A Stoic person,is one  of a kind,
Gentle at heart,yet strong in mind.

The man in the Moon
looks down at the earth
and bows his head in shame.

Witnessing earths destruction
by human hands
a world led by the insane.

He knows it won't be long
before our earth has gone
then who are we to blame.

When the man in the moon
looks down for the last time
at a world that died in shame.

Through life we walk a tightrope
between the present and the past.
Our lives hang in the balance
and there is no going back.

Every journey we make is uncertain
we may fall and hit the ground.
No one knows their fate or fortune
our destiny is in our lord's hands.

Our past cannot be edited
forgotten erased or changed.
It can only be accepted
for we cannot go back again.

We must leave the past behind us
let nothing weigh you down.
Treating everyday as a gift
for the moment is all we have.

God I love you with all my heart
your in everything I see.
Your the stars that shine
the sun the moon
the oceans and the seas.

Your the rain the snow
your the wind that blows
your the cloud that passes by.
Your the thunderstorm
a cool breeze when it's warm
your that rainbow in the sky.

Every flower that blooms
every living thing
all creatures great and small.
Your my one true friend
my life my spirit
your the love inside my soul.

The most overused word is (Like )
A word I rather dislike
The young generation
Would lose communication
If it was erased overnight.

Those Christmases of old
were much better by far.
We never had much money,
but we always got by.

No expensive gifts
just little things.
A Christmas stocking
a drum made of tin.

A jigsaw puzzle
my mum helped me complete,
A plastic gun,
golden coins that were sweets.

A few new pennies,
a coloring book
That my Nan filled in,
so I never got a look.

Now sadly today
the mystery has gone.
Christmas starts in August
and goes on and on.

Gone is the magic,
the expectation the surprise.
Christmas is big business,
it's become too commercialized.