In Memorium - Mushy Peas?

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances"

While clearing some of the documents for this site , I came across a couple of very personal poems I have writen over the years for my family who have shuffled off this mortal coil. What better way of giving them imortality than publishing them here...........

For Audrey Mole: – My Mum

There are no words I know, can express or can show
What I feel deep inside, where a little boy cries
For his loss, for our loss
I no longer feel pain, but that which remains is not joy, nor sorrow for what awaits tomorrow for the little boy who still cries
The voice in my mind, talks so soft, so kind “don’t cry my baby – my son”;
“What will be –will be, what is done is done”

“Show me your love through the life that you live, make me proud with the love that you give”
“Wipe those tears from your eyes, laugh for me one more time, everything will be fine –it’s time to live”

I knew this moment would come, I thought I would be strong, I was wrong.
Inside this little boy cries, outside there are no tears in these eyes; nothing to show the fear of being alone without you, a heart that needs mending, the tears never ending, will continue to flow.

Time the great healer, there is no place for you here, not yet – when the ice in my blood, runs warm as it should, when the breath that I need does not cut – make me bleed inside - where I cry for your smile, just to stay for a while; keep me safe – as this little boy cries, hold me close as this little boy cries.

I will see you each day in my children’s eyes, I will feel you beside me as I rise to greet each new day.
I will let you wipe these tears and kiss my brow “don’t cry son – you’re a big boy now”.
I will live each day for you my beautiful friend, my nurse, my mother;
Like it is my last, like there is no other.
I will face the world as nothing has changed, nothing re-arranged, all is well
No one died – no lonely little boy inside.

Enshalla (Gods Will) some will say, we all get to meet on another day.
Say hello to my sister – tell her I’ve missed her, at least this little girl will no longer cry; so farewell and goodbye or should I say until we meet again – free from sorrow –tears and pain.

Rest in peace, all my love – now and always

Keith xxx

For My Father: William Chambers Mole

Dear God,

I’d just like to take the time to thank you for the life of William Mole. A truly remarkable individual, full of compassion, dignity, respect and a love of the natural wonders of this world. I never saw him angry or out of control with anyone at any time – unless we count the time the horses were blown up in Hyde Park in London. I think that was the only time I heard him swear (and I’m sure you can forgive him for that?).
‘Billy’, was someone who would always do you a good turn without the need to be asked. He would help before it was needed. He would lend a hand before you knew you needed it. And he never asked for anything in return. He was charming and at times mischievous, but first and foremost he was my father and I loved him dearly. I could not have asked for better. I wasn’t always the perfect son – but he never let that affect our relationship – and this was precious to me.
As a grandfather – he was a gentle, funny, and passionate individual, and an enthusiastic teacher to our children. As a friend I believe he was second to none.

He loved my mother with a passion and although there were times when that love was stretched – I have no doubt that it ever wavered for a second.

I’m sure there’s a reason why he was taken from us so soon, before I could ask him half of the million questions I had left - never mind those from my brothers and our children? What ever that reason I thank you once again for the short time we had.

I will miss him beyond the words I can write here, but I take some solace in the knowledge that he will be safe and warm in the arms of those that loved him once and have since passed on. My mother Audrey, my sister Ann, my grandparents Sarah and Bill.

Bloody good work God.

Rgds

Keith (Son )

For My Grandmother: Ada Downing

Thank you for being my Grandma

Thank you for all that you did,

For the friendship and love that you gave me

for keeping me straight when a kid.

Thanks for the gifts and the guidance

for the laughter and warmth deep inside,

you'd give me when ever i'd fallen

and wiped away tears when I cried.

Thank you for being my Grandma

for the all the good times that we had,

for the comfort and shoulder to cry on

when ever i was frightened or sad.

Thank you for always being round me

to help me back up on my feet,

save me a pkace at your table,

for when we should next chance to meet.

I will miss you Gran

Keith xxx

More Later.............

The Twelve Tasks of Kenneth Ulysses Johnson

Away back when...... I used to write some articles for an inhouse mag called the SLH Enquirer. My partner in Crime was a mad man called Bill Hull ( Grumpygeordie http://grumpygeordie.blogspot.com/ )
One of our fellow workers was a Ginger Ninja called Kenny Johnson. In 1993 we devoted a Calendar to Kenny.

The Prog

The Prog was a series of cartoons I used to doodle - way back when I was a computer programmer. There's not may of them but I thought I'd stick them here as I may as well :-)
Keith

Shagspear in space

I have decided to use this space to start writing again. Why not? It's pretty annonoumous really. I'll put up some of the early stuff I used to do when I was in England. Purley for the entertainment of the office staff and people I used to work with. My pen name was William Shagspear and his poems were crude rough and always meant for a laugh. Later writings have been aimed at children and teens. I might put a couple up here. And who knows; it might give me the incentive to complete the unfinished works I have scattered all over the place.