Poems by Amara450

It's only nought point five percent of the GDP,
That's what the Government is telling me,
A drop in the ocean, not much at all,
But that all depends on what we can afford,
Cos their reviewing the funding on our NHS,
On schools and defence and all of the rest,
On welfare, disabled, and those out of work,
But not for the immigrants, and those of that sort,
Get out of your home or sleep four in a bed,
Just you try to claim and see what is said,
Nought point five percent of the GDP,
That's eight billion quid to you and to me,
To send to the 'needy' who live overseas,
To be spent by their leaders on big cars and TV's,
Or to buy bigger guns that they really need,
So while charities struggle to collect and to meet,
The demand for food parcels so our children can eat,
Fund hostels where homeless can get warm and dry,
While elderly shiver alone while they cry,
And the government say our taxes won't meet,
The cost for disabled to get back on their feet,
So to get all this money to send overseas,
From our taxes they take the cash for the fees,
One hundred and sixty of our English pounds,
Each year, that's how much cash must be found,
Each, that's per capita, from you and from me,
It's no wonder our talented workers all flee,
So to all the MP's, before they start to groan,
How expenses won't cover their second homes,
That their salaries are low and that living is tough,
Wake up, look around you, cos enough is enough,
We are not the world's bank with a wide open purse,
It's time that you put your own people first.

My Father was born in the year 1916,
In the war to end all wars, or so they thought,
But not such a good year that it might seem,
He was just 23 when the next one was fought,
So he was called up on that fateful day,
Given a rifle, big boots, a steel helmet to wear,
His wife left alone with a child on the way,
He was sent off to fight, his wife didn't know where,

So one day before she heard the war start,
She started in labour, a child on the way,
Eleven fifteen next day when the sirens took part,
We both heard them wail, I was born on that day,
From her heart full of love I had more than my share,
From a lonely new mother, to me just hours old,
An absentee Father sent God only knows where,
His whereabouts secret, nobody told,
So she dried up her eyes, put comb through her hair,
And said "Mr. Hitler, you can't frighten this pair".

Five long years later we were both still alive,
Through air raids and bombing, explosion and blast,
As a family together we fought to survive,
Everything rationed and running out fast,
The very same problem for all down our street,
We shared what we had so that none went without,
Small portions of food to last through the week,
And when victory came we all gave a great shout,
But the best thing of all, my Dad's coming home,
Mum said that Dad's tall, handsome and strong,
I'm nearly six now, he'll be surprised how I've grown,
I hope when he gets here we'll both get along.