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My friend Harry put all his trust
In all his words when he drank too much
Now he is sober and wonders why
He drank and drank the bottle dry.

Foolish he was to drop his guard
Forgetting it now is very hard
He started off with just one taste
He carried on and spoke in haste.

But now he has learned his lesson well
And this advice he wishes to tell
Be care full my friends when you've had a few
You just don't know who you are talking too.
It happens,
I remember my favourite comedian
He was crazy and acted daft
When I was on the downside
He would put an end to that.

He had a funny way with words
And could often tell a tale
He always drawed attention
His humour it never failed.

He could have been a big name
In a movie or on the stage
And if he chose to be one
I am sure he would make the grade.

He never had to try hard
He liked to play the clown
No one found him annoying
He was fun to have around.

He was full of innuendos
And he almost crossed the line
But he never was affensive
He wasn't that way inclined.

Then that was many years ago
Now he's gone and that is sad
He was my favourite comedian
I should know he was my Dad.
The season is merry and bright,
we watch on a silent night;
As children wait for treasures,
they'll cherish heartily forever.

As Santa rides his sleigh,
from a million miles away,
He's happy to be the one,
to deliver such Christmas fun.

While snow falls like confetti,
parents everywhere are ready;
For children's early rising,
with their laughter NOT surprising.

Hot cocoa made by mother,
sharing goodies like no other;
And lying underneath the tree,
Santa's gifts bring so much glee.

Lost forever in a trance,
of love that seems to dance;
The spirit of Christ is here,
we celebrate from year to year !
Through a holy night, we're blessed with love, as God reaches down, from heaven above. Merry Christmas to all ! xoxo Frances
When the stars grow cold and fade away,
the earth becomes a haven;
For the sunbursts of a winter sky,
which warm us from our burdens.

Despite the sweetness of holiday cheer,
the only things we've left to see;
Are the snowy mountain tops ahead,
resplendent in their alabaster sea.

But with the rising of the morning sun,
its glowing face upon us all;
We huddle together and watch the gleam,
as it beckons us through windswept squalls.

So if the day can be revived,
with such brightness shining near;
The frosty stars will take a hint,
soon recovering on a night so clear.

And seeing the sparkle over the hills,
we pray for cherished evenings;
Of love and light within our sight,
with holy songs from angels' healing.
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
 Jan 6 Christina S
Wyatt
Depression
is a great ocean to me
and I'm just a small boat
which is lost at sea.
This one is short and to the point.
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