John Cosgrove

A CHILDS WAR

    I Remember,

Gas mask, Ratiion

The black market, siren suits.

Blackouts, barrage balloons

The A.R.P., and bombers moons,

Running helter skelter, for

The safely of the shelter.

German bombers overhead,

Flippancy soon turns to dread.

Friends and neighbours cower in fear,

Till they sound the last all clear.

I remember Granpa, a tramcar ride,

To see the bombed out Clyde side.

For to save the children of the nation,

Sixty thousand evacuations.

Father's leave before embarkation,

A tearful farewell at the Central station.

Listen to Lord Haw Haw, and his lies,

For him and Hitler the end is nigh.

Soon all europe will be free,

Our boys have landed in Normandy.

British, French, Poles, And G.I'S

"Any gum chum" us kids would cry.

V.E. night in George Square. I was

Among thosands there..

The war is over,

I am ten years old.

Here I stand in the Cold.

Hitler is dead, so is Mussolini

Still, ma must go down to the "steamie".

ADVICE TO THE TYRANT POET

Writing poetry is a form of therapy,

For when you feel Blue, and not so chirrupy

You have a cold, there's nowt on Telly

Your morale is lower than a Snakes belly,

Life's gone pear shaped, you hate the wife,

It's time to have a new interest in your life,

Music has charm to soothe the savage breast,

But poetry is best, for getting things of your chest.

Seize the mood                               make the time,

Try you hand at producing rhymes

When you start to write, it is highly probably

Others may think your poems are pure doggerel.

No one expected you to be a "Clever Dick.".

Why not start off with a simple Limerick.

Who knows, if you stay with it, maybe in time.

You will even produce poems that do not rhyme

Remember,

The poetic muse,

Can cure the Blues,

A verse a day,

Keeps stress at bay.