Poems by Laura Sanders

Mum was so very special she drew people to her, wherever she went.
Even though she was tired and weary and her energy was well spent.
She always made an effort to chat and make everyone laugh,
She liked to talk about flowers and plants, along the garden path.
She left a hole inside me when she went to the "other side",
I knew it would never be the same , the day she said goodbye.
Peace and quiet transcended the house,  her voice no longer heard...
Everything had to carry on, even feeding her garden birds.
No getting up in the morning and giving her some toast,
getting her ready to go out,  putting on her knitted hat and winter coat.
Everything routine stopped,  mum sitting by the window -now gone.
Along with the love, the laughter , the fireworks ,the worry , and the fun.

Magical March comes limping in, bringing the mad wind and the rain,
but eventually the sunlight brightens the day, and we're all happy again!
Slowly the flowers spring to life, dancing Daffodils, sunny Celandines.
Its a taster of what is heading our way, beautiful Summer time!

The fairies flutter again, in the forest glades, as does the woodland Leprechauns,
the rabbits, gaily hop around, deer and foxes smile to see sunshiney morns!
Spring's bounty is on it's way, when buds open and lambs are not so forlorn.
Nothing is so drear and dark again, the magic of Spring is born!!

Pure and white, spotless and clean,
drops of snow amongst the verdant green.
Delicate heads hang sorrowful, as if to say,
sorry- we've appeared, on a cold February day!

Inside the tiny flower, is a green surprise,
patterned so beautiful, it brings joy to the eyes.
Simplistic delight, that nothing could match.
On a cold Spring day, I discovered a small patch.

Fairy flowers and the first to bloom,
but then they are gone, seeming to fade too soon!

A single red Poppy is all I wear to commemorate the dead.
A single red Poppy is all I wear, it's clothed in scarlet red.
Curled up at both ends, torn by Remembrance day,
but without it how would I show, I cared about the sacrifice, they made.

Swathes of Poppies today, are found in Flander's lands,
where bodies once bled in the mud - it's hard to understand!
Why men must brutally fight one another, in order to win a war?
Countless lives lost to a cause, just to settle a score.

But just what were those men really  fighting for?
For freedom and peace to reign, across our lands once more.
So that simple, red Poppy is important, for us to wear.
We can all show our support for soldiers today- show we all do care!

The Halloween dance.

I once woke up in the middle of the night,
as Midnight struck, late, late at night.
I came downstairs feelin' kinda sick,
I saw creatures dancin' to Halloween music!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance...


There was a witch doin' a broomstick dance
and ghosts of local graveyards, prancing in a trance.
There was an ugly werewolf, howling on all fours,
and Dracula with his cape, tangoed to the scores!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

A she -monster she did a gay Foxtrot,
while Frankenstein gave it all he'd got.
Bat people were doing a paso doble,
whilst a black cat, with green eyes, glowered my way,

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

Pumpkins were doing a strange kind of waltz.
I had to scream, call it to a halt.
They were jumpin' and  a  jivin',  with twists and turns,
completely unaware, whilst the candle- light burns......

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!

The spooks and creatures didn't fade away,
when I drew back the curtains and let in the day.
So I knew, I  just could  not win,
so I danced with a were -wolf and I joined in!!

At the dance, at the dance, at the dance, at the dance!!

Forever young, is where I wish to be,
No chair or door held open especially for me.
No Zimmer, walking stick ,to aid my walk,
No nervous laughs, holding my hand, or baby talk.

I don't want dinners boiled to mush
and eat with a spoon and feel I am pushed.
Hands forced open, washed with foam,
threats over my head ,of an old people's home.

Forever Young, is where I want to be
playing skittles, walks, swimming dancing's for me.
Not aches and pains and stiff old joints
just playing tennis and scoring points.

But guess I'll have to age like all the rest
Even though I've taken vitamins and like a teenager dress.
Noodles of cream for wrinkles, hair thickeners -I'm bald.
Know I can't beat time and I'll just have to grow old!

A young child asked her mother, "mother, what does the face of God look like?
I know I may never see him, is he fierce or is he kind?"
The mother said, "God dear, is like the coloured rainbow smiling in the sky,
He is the formation of snow white swans, flying gently by...
He is like the stars in heaven, his love infinite and bright,
always like the sun in the morning, calms us after a rainy night.
His voice  is like the tallest trees, whispering in the  cooling breeze.
He is like the Spring time thaw, after the cold icy Winter freeze.
He is like the flowers in the border, in the summertime.
He is like the  rivers dancing, alive with fish, leaping in  line...
He is like the summer meadows, lush and fresh and green.
God is everywhere darling, but his face is never seen...
'cause God is the best of EVERYTHING, here on earth
and he came to save us all, by his miraculous birth!"

Rows of creeping, tangled, knotted runner -bean Vines
twist and turn, growing up netting and poles in lines...
Tiny, red flowers attract bees and insects to visit and pollinate.
"Come enter and taste before it's too late !"
Elsewhere, lush lettuces appeal to any Beatrix Potter character, utter temptation !
Delicious carrots, with fine leafy tops protrude, without hesitation .
Swathes of potato flowers plants, surge over the veg plot -
where compost manure and organic soil lies, in humus and then rots.
Neat lines, measured out by string and rusty iron poles-
Growing tasty fresh veg, the ultimate goal!!
Fruits, picked by hand from plant. to box to crate .
Satisfaction and reward , for" growing your own " is great!

Such horror faced by the allied troops,
Such bravery in the face of the foe.
Witnessing young lives, mown down by gunfire,
Such terror, thank God, we will never know....

For the liberation of Europe was won
but at a price to men, from all sides.
American ,French ,Canadian ,English .
Red bloodied land, crimson red tides.

I am humbled when I think of the sacrifices
Men made, the sixth June 1944 is now history.
Heroes fighting for their country,
To free us from the Nazi tyranny.

In Normandy the graveyards are bursting
White headstones , display lives cut down by war
Today we must always be grateful,
We must remember them, for evermore.

"Let this never happen again !" the survivors say
Tears and sadness wells, in their faded eyes.
As they think of their fallen comrades
Who died on the beaches,  in the sea and skies.

Seems like only the other day, you paddled , in that hol' seaside rock pool.
Only the other day, you fed us lunch, when we were kids at school.
You packed our hol' suitcases into the car boot, so they snugly fit.
At Christmas you danced with vigour, to some Abba disco hits!

Parties, weddings, get-togethers, meals seems we did it all.
Relatives and friends came to us for company, you really had a ball.
But time moves so slowly, then faster, now you've reached the end.
You're left wondering where everyone is, Where are all your friends?

The egg-timer is running out, but the sand is still flowing through...
Reaching your final furlong, what else is there for you to do?
Long Summer times have passed, you've watched seasons come and go.
Now only sadness seen in your eyes, realising it may soon end you know.

How quickly a lifetime passes, it seems like ages when we are young.
Thinking we have all the time in the world, before our time is done.
But we must grasp the nettle, cause life can end any time.
Just enjoy our visit, either short or long, make it meaningful and fine!