I write poetry from the heart sometimes from the way I feel but purely for the love of it. There are some happy, some sad. Some may be emotive, what ever I hope you enjoy them.  In time I may add more! 

For that once in a lifetime  occasion, I can also write those special lines that you wish to say, but cannot find the words to express how you really feel. . . . 

Please email for details on the feedback page.    

My first born daughter is a child of truth,

For which she was baptized in the name of Ruth,

A Hebrew name of Testament old,

                                         In fact, the greatest love story ever told.

                                      *****

A poorly infant from a difficult birth,

For which we thought not to be long of this earth,

But in strength she grew and astound us she did,

She fought that hard battle, was determined to live.

*****

Ten years have gone by, what a beautiful child,

She’s turned out to be so meek and so mild,

But what of her future, the question I ask?

To succeed in this life is a difficult task.

*****

For love, joy and prosperity I hope,

In Ruth’s future happiness and ability to cope,

As the years pass by, one things to be sure,

A greater love for my child, cannot be more.

For Ruth on her 10^th Birthday.

One day in September. . . .

As Christmastide approaches,

Soon it'll be that time of year,

But this year will be somewhat different,

For the world now lives in fear.

*****

Manhattan was marked a target,

In September they made it so,

Many families lost their loved ones,

How I pray their pain to go.

*****

This year my Daddy's missing,

Did  he really play Santa Claus?

Such sad time which should be happy,

I want him home with us all once more. . . 

*****

Let us not forget this Christmas,

Knowing terror will never win,

So please celebrate Christ's Birthday,

And feel the comfort within.

Poetz inc ©

September 2001

On September 14th 2001 Yuko sat and wrote this music for everyone who was touched by the tragedy 3 days before,  it is called "Hurt So Bad". About the same time I wrote this poem, but could never think of a suitable title,  Yuko said it best. . . . .

The Plane

High in the sky lies a whispery trail,

Left by a jet plane that carries the mail,

Five thousand miles over land and sea,

It holds a letter of love, to my mother from me.

*****

She left the land of her birth long ago,

To start a new life, Oh how she hoped so,

Spreading her wings to explore new lands,

To be here are her wishes , just holding our hands.

*****

Time is so cruel, it goes by so fast,

Our mortal coils aren’t meant to last,

The days turn to months and then into years,

Being so far away, just brings her more tears.

*****

Her grandchildren are becoming young ladies now,

Delightful each day and asking me how,

"How long will it be before Nannan comes home,

To visit us again and see how we’ve grown?"

*****

And so it is to heaven far up above,

Where I pray to the plane that carries my love,

Will return her safely, to England she’ll fly,

Nannan's come home to Ruth Eleanor and I.

Dedicated to my Mother xx

January 1997

A Gentle-Man

My Father is a wonderful man,

Men like him are extrememly rare,

He takes the time out every morning,

To call me to tell me he cares.

*****

My Father is a Kindly man,

He would do anything at all for me,

We spend more time together now,

This time is very precious you see.

*****

My Father is a sensitive man,

He’s seen the problems I’ve lived through,

The listening ear and a shoulder to cry on,

A love for his child, this is true.

*****

My Father is a thoughtful man,

It’s the little things that show that he cares,

Like a smile when I’m low and a bouquet of roses,

But the way people have treated him’s not fair.

*****

My Father is a much loved man,

By my children, myself and others,

He goes out of his way, every day,

To help people, much ground he covers.

*****

My Father is a gentle-man,

In that there is no doubt,

For he has put so much into life,

But life has not paid him out.

To Dad, with love. . . .

For being there xx

A Butterfly for Eleanor

Out in the country on summer days,

One can visualise just through the haze,

A glint of colour on a light breeze,

There! Another, within some trees.

*****

Reds and yellows, oranges blues,

A silvery flash with greenish hues,

One of natures creatures upon her wings,

The joy of summer into life it brings.

*****

The creature to you of which I tell,

All though I think, you know very well,

Is a corruption of the words "flutter by"

In time man named it the butterfly.

*****

Time passes and summer goes,

The autumn winds & winter snows,

But spring will come and with it bring,

Gods new creatures to take to the wing.

*****

Up the branch a caterpillar did crawl,

My daughter Eleanor knew not what at all,

I explained that in time, one summery day,

That it too would be a butterfly. . .

And flutter away.

For more poetry

visit **This Page Is Currently Under Construction**

Eleanor xx