Poetic society for all active poetry lovers

Month: October 2015

Dear Paper

Dear paper, your bear I cannot now

As I do not know, I do not know how

To speak to those who do not listen

To explain you feel when they say you DON’T

To show the things which glisten

When they sometimes really don’t


Dear paper, you might understand what I cannot

To sacrifice “yourself” I was taught

To pay for others’ mistakes

„just for your sake“


Dear paper, help me to follow

That this cage is good for a swallow

Who just wanted to breathe and fly

Help me to follow

That it’s all right when your dreams are going to die


Dear paper, just tell me a few warm words

Without all of „must“ „if not then“ „just do!“

Who gave them right, tell me who?


Dear paper, better you do not speak

MONEY, property, buy, do, give, work more

The words which are my dearest ones‘ creek

They might – one day – be drowned in for!

Wall Of Shame

I made for you a wall of shame
It’s purpose to some would say is lame
For me it was truly not a game
But a means to try and tame
To make you feel ashamed

Your behaviour bemused and made me sad
Because I know you’re not all bad
I raised a handsome happy lad
Hoped you’d marry and become a dad
But you just raged and lost your rag

Once again incarcerated are you
Same old reasons, nothing new
Why do you believe it’s cool
To constantly break the rules
Leaving you looking like a fool

Inadequate are words to describe my pain
Thoughts of you there render me insane
Although you’ve hurt me I remain
Positive, optimistic, just the same
A Mother you’ve no right to blame.

Someone who loves you asked today
Had I seen you? I uttered with dismay
A lie that you were travelling away
What else could we possibly say?
Couldn’t upset him, not today.

Received his kit looks so smart
Not prepared to break his heart
What you’ve done for a lark
Has torn your family apart
There’s still time to make a fresh start

Breda Ware


Mountain ash my most favourite tree,
Inadequate are words to describe thee.
Prominent, audacious, proud and free,
Know how much you mean to me.

In towns and cities tall with slender boughs,
Lining avenues regimentally.
In bold, wide vistas such a pleasure to see,
On the grounds of stately homes of gentry.

On bleak moorlands alone, wild and free,
Growing out from mountains precariously.
Of all Britain’s ancient noble trees,
You are the most special one to me.

Delicate branches stretching endlessly,
Leaves upon them grow abundantly.
Pretty orange and deep red berries,
Devoured by song birds in a scurry.

Cold, icy winds will soon descend,
Their purpose to whip and make you bend.
Your berries you will hold steadfast,
Through out the winter, they must last.

Mountain Ash my favourite tree,
Know how much you mean to me.
Always remain brave and free,
My Rowan how much I truly love thee.

Breda Ware



Suppose I change my habits,  hypothetically.
Who would benefit from it, you or me?
To change a habit be it one, two or three,
Would make a different person, out of me.

Religiously write letters to whom I seldom see,
On rare occasions, receive others back to me.
Text and emails, enthusiasm I never lack,
Response alas, limited do I get back.

Making telephone calls is easier now,
Able to reach you at home or even in town.
Sadly I’m the one running around,
You’re always busy, never to be found.

In life’s ups and downs I’m always there,
Ready and willing to support and care.
To lend a hand with daily chores,
Enthusiastic, happily to take on more.

Relentless am I to the extreme,
To be cheerful and always keen.
Optimistic, eager to please,
Even to those whom have been mean.

At times too generous to please,
Is that a flaw? A defect in me?
Those in place should be left be,
Cause that’s my make up, that’s little old me.

Breda Ware


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