Poems by John Peter Read

I've never wished for fortunes,
I've always prayed for better things.
I'm happy and contented,
Never wanting to live like a king.

I've never craved for riches.
Why should I waste my time?
Possessions are only borrowed.
All I want is peace of mind.

Money can't buy you happiness
Or make your dreams unfold.
Your loved ones are your wealth,
Not pockets filled with gold.

As long as there's food on the table,
A roof above my head,
I will say thank you, Lord,
My life has truly been blessed.

Take me back to far off lands
where streams and rivers flow.
I want to leave this cold grey town.
It's no longer the one I know.

I've now become a stranger
in this place I once called home.
The friends I loved and grew up with,
some have left while others have passed on.

My life has now taken a detour
from the path I once was on.
It seems I blinked my eyes
and suddenly everything had gone.

So now I'm on my own
and often find myself breaking down
on the highway to nowhere,
endlessly going around and around.

My head is full of words
all jumbled up inside.
But when I start to write,
those words don't seem to rhyme.

Yes, it's so annoying
when I'm halfway through a verse.
My mind goes completely blank;
nothing could be worse.

I blame it on my age.
My memory's not the same,
so I'll have to end it here
just in case it goes again.

A poem's but a whisper
That lingers on the breeze.
A few unspoken words
Appear like falling leaves.

A tapestry of memories
Dreams that haunt the mind
Jumbled words, scrambled thoughts
Borrowed from the passing of time.

The days fade and die.
The years have flown by.
Loved ones have passed;
Now only memories remain.

Those dreams you once shared,
They still linger there.
Believing in Heaven
You'll meet once again.

I often lie awake at night
While the world is fast asleep
And take a stroll down memory lane
Where ghosts and shadows meet.

I see you in the distance,
I hear you call my name.
And for one moment time stands still
As I hold you once again.

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

Spring,summer,winter and fall,
the seasons of change
greet one and all.

For as in life,
they'll be many a storm.
Life's seasons change
the moment we're born.

Clouds will appear
every once in awhile.
From a cold winter chill
to a warm summer smile.

In our lives like the seasons
they'll be many a fall.
We have to prepare
to answer the call.

But in the end
our troubles will wain.
When the sun bows its head
and shines once again.

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.