Progress

It was long long ago, and far far away
and I'm sure that it's long been forgot
So don't let the mem'ry of that long lost day
make you wish, what you were, you were not

The times they have changed, it's all different now
and things don't work the way that they did
The things that society would not allow
now no longer have to be hid

You can say it out loud, that you're gay and you're proud
You can wheel down the street in your chair
You can wear a Hijab and be part of the crowd
In theory as free as the air

But there's always one hater who's just gonna hate
It's their right, that we cannot deny
But their foolish opinion's not part of your fate
You're not a dumb fish so don't rise to their bait
You've the right to be free and the right to be great
So just wave the haters goodbye
As the world moves and passes them by

Safekeeping

It's winter and the fields are white

with snow in which with sheer delight

we play and gambol while it's light

but after comes the reaping

We take ourselves back to our home

to chocolate cups with creamy foam

and fires that warm us to the bone

and never hear the weeping

For there are those of poor estate

of threadbare garb and empty grate

for whom snow brings a harder fate

as in the frost comes creeping

Then that which brings such winter joys

to warm and thoughtless girls and boys

the poorer folk it just destroys

and leaves them dead not sleeping

Now I'm not saying don't go play

when winter brings a snowy day

But a little help goes a long long way

Add them to your safe keeping 

Wasted

Youth is wasted on the young

They live in dreams of what's to come

and miss a passing world of fun

Youth is wasted on the young

Age is wasted on the old

Their lives are stories to be told

But all they do is fret and scold

Age is wasted on the old

Better

With every hill I climb or corner turn

another vista's there, my soul to burn

Another view of lakes and lofty crags

Another wind-blown sky, clouds torn to rags

Another torrent rushing down so fast

like youth spending each day till all are passed

'til all are gathered in the pool of age

for this poor fool to put down on the page

I wish I could a better poet be

to better render everything I see

Stories

My life is a book full of stories
The anecdotes tumble and fall
Wherever I go things just happen
I'm sure I've not told you them all
But where are the stories from others
The tales that I'm hungry to hear
I can't be the only one having
adventures from year to year
It may be a matter of seeing
It may be just being there when
the thing that is happening happens
and having a notepad and pen
Just make a note of the occurence
then later when you read what's there
If it feels a bit thin, be like Shakespear
"Exit stage left, chased by a bear"