Poems by Laura Sanders

Gran- what is it like to be so old?
This, may I ask and to be so bold!
Do you ache and pain like me,
or do you still feel lively, energetic, free...?

Do people really respect your views?
Or do they secretly laugh at you?
Or do they marvel at your age?
Or is it like turning the same old page?

Do you long to be young again?
To relive your  time, in life's short game?
Would you do things differently
and someone else, you would rather be?

Gran, smile, put on your happy grin,
even if it is difficult within.
You'll fool them all with all those years,
you will reduce them all, to smiling tears!

A benchmark, you have now surpassed,
You're best years, have now since passed.
You've now lived through, your hope and fears,
You've reached your golden years!

A young fit man, when he went off to war,
but as soon as I saw him, close that door,
I knew he would never be the same,
'cause war it ruins, wounds and maims.

When I saw him again, his hands trembled, shook.
His face looked haunted, with anguished look.
Now and then, he cried out, in mental pain,
I knew he'd come back, never being the same.

In the depths of the night, he cried out a name,
woke up sweating, said it's happening again!
A cigarette, would calm his broken thoughts,
alone he sat, feeling out of sorts.

I knew that he had P.T.S.D,
so I took him for a stay, in the Welsh country.
To a place where birds sang and fresh rivers flow,
a place of solitude, only peace would know.

In the woods, he sat with other friends,
chatted, slept in tents, til the evenings end.
They learnt bush craft, and how to survive,
making campfires and fishing to stay alive...

Slowly he got better with his fragmented health,
began to improve, 'til he had mental wealth.
Now, he is an instructor, teaching others bushcraft
and I'm glad I took him, to find that longed for, life raft.

With pride, I fumble hopelessly, trying to pin medals on my chest.
No one knows what I went through, as war, I really detest!
The grime  and desperation, I witnessed with these blind, tired, old eyes,
men really suffering, many falling and bleeding , many wounded, died...

We retold stories to each other, tried to keep up our morale.
Me and my soldier friends, Tommo, Bernie and Johnny, my pal.
But all anyone can see now, is an old worn out geezer, hobbling along,
trying to display his medals, just trying to belong...

In my head, I hear the shouts and cries , the piercing cries of my name.
The anger, wells inside me- who really back then, was to blame?
So, I'll just pin these medals on , and walk in  solemn gait,
remembering in stunned silence, all my long since passed away, mates...

Tell me,
what do you think, when you look into the sad, pleading eyes,
of those who go hungry and cold?
What do you think, when you look at the man shuffling about in the street,
limping, tired and old...?
Carrying a bottle of booze, grimy , worn coat, holes in his socks, and
his shoes.

What do you think , when you look into the big eyes, of the African kids,
pot-bellied, desperate for any food?
What do you think, when you see an abandoned dog, tied up,
by the side of the road?
Or a donkey crippled with overgrown hooves, can't walk, let alone carry
any load?

What do you think of those orphaned, alone, wishing they had family?
We are so lucky, we have friends, and family, someone to look after
you and me.
Just think of the hungry and abandoned in this world, as the time goes ticking by...
These are the things that we should care about, or we may as well, just sit
down and cry...!

Mum, thank you for all the little things you did,
down on earth, for us all.
The things, we never saw.
The things mum's really are for...
Hugging and talking to us,
looking after us, when we cussed,
showing us the side, that cares.

When life was too much to bear,
Mum, we couldn't see everything
you went through,
but we really do appreciate you.
Life wouldn't have been the same too,
without you.
So thank you, for all you did,
for us all.
Giving us advice,
making us Pilchard curry and rice!
Going to church with us both,
helping us to cope.
Sticking up for us, in our hours of need,
lots of things indeed...

Why is a garden snail so slow?
Has he no place to go?
With his house upon his back-
he doesn't even need, to pack!

If it gets too hot, he just sleeps,
inside his shell he retreats.
He feels safe inside,
where he isn't heated and dried!

If it rains, he soundly sleeps,
until he's ready to peep.
He comes out, he loves the damp,
sliding along, up and down ramps.

Leaving his glittery, silvery trail,
how happy are wet slimy snails!
Then he sticks to an old, hard rock,
do not disturb him and do not knock!

'Cause snail has found his safe abode,
with his shell home, which is his load.
Snail is slow, cause he needs to find,
his perfect pitch, for peace of mind!

Like a golden fanfare of trumpets, they herald entrance of Spring.
Appearing on warmer days, when happier the  birds fly and sing....
As yellow as the gold sun, that shines, they sway in the breeze,
Daisies, Buttercups cannot compete, attracting passing bumble bees.
On banks along garden edges, brightening up landscape stark,
sunshine flora laps up the sun, hating the wet and dark.
Elegant long stalks, looks attractive in a vase.
Seen in houses, gardens and out of windows of our cars.
To see Spring flowers and beauty, I needn't venture, too far.

All I wanted was to be loved by you,
but instead you told me, you and I were through...
How I longed for that tender, special kiss,
It's like being without sun, your warmth I miss.

Like a flower longs for a rainfall shower,
how I needed you, every day, every hour.
Like a bird on the wing, without a nest.
I miss you so much, 'cause you were the best!

I'm a desert, of loneliness, with windswept sand.
I thought you knew me, would understand?
But now it seems, you overlooked, my heart,
when you said goodbye and you did depart.

Now I yearn for life like a forest deer,
'cause being alone is what I fear.
But all I wanted, was to be loved by you,
Now I'm  , tired , disillusioned  and blue.

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!

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.