The moment we leave the womb
entering to a blinding well lit room,
We've already started to explore
curiosity takes us crawling on the floor.

Laughing, smiling ready for even more
taking opportunity to open each door,
we slowly raise ourselves from knees to feet
new places and faces ready to meet.

Time for another evolutionary change
age of education is now within range,
welcome to a new game and book
gone are the baby toys as back we look.

Talking of our future learning about the past
years from now into space we may blast,
there are the dreams of such occupations
making new friends building relations.

Have we even started to learn a thing
when well meet again we still sing,
children and education are our only hope
a lesson for all its a tough mountain *****.

Climb climb and never stop reaching higher
take ever chance and reach for your desire,
life itself is one big non stop education
Go teach and share your joy of graduation.

T'was the night before school,
and all through the house.
Not a sound could be heard,
Not even a mouse.
It's that time again good grief ,
the uniforms nicely pressed .
Parents gave a sigh of relief,
kids back to school looking there best.
Hip hop hooray we all say,
at least till the next holiday.

Copyright Grant Dickson 14/08/2015

Worn out to extent of collapse,
My body clock about to elapse.
Turning from a strong mountain,
Cascading like a giant fountain.
Crumbling into a pile of rock,
Life slowing hearing it tick tick.
Feeling it's time to close my eyes,
Waiting for tomorrow's hidden disguise.
Time to dim the bright light,
Then with a sigh say night night.
This bodies ready for the heap,
Sweet Dreams my friends it's time to sleep.
© Grant Dickson 09/02/2016

Enlisted they were mostly lads so young,
sent off to war as songs from Vera were sung,
Young miss Ashwell started it all so well,
across europe ****** was giving them hell.
A century has now come and gone by,
Yet the memories of those brave won't die.
Through the wintery cold and icy rain,
Each soldier battled hard so many suffered in pain.
They ask us why do we remember our brave,
Wreaths of poppy's are laid on the unknown soldiers grave.
Today as I write this tribute to those brave,
Another young soldier is put to his grave.
When or will it all ever come to an end,
Fighting in another war another country to defend.

(c) Grant Dickson 01/11/2018

I was in love for once,
I was in maybe love twice,
I was in love more than thrice,
but was I ever really in love.

You may ask yourself this,
You may come to the same conclusion,
You may even still think you are,
But do you ever stop to ask yourself.

We walk around with permanent smiles,
We hold hands almost scared to let go,
We cuddle so close we can hear our heartbeats,
But are we suffocating the air from our bond.

Alas all that was beautiful has now turned ugly,
Alas all flowers have died like in the cold winter,
Alas all the happiness turned to sadness,
But most of all the laughter now into tears.

I loved along time ago not once,
not twice, not maybe more than thrice,
none was truer than the time you said,
But you said I'm in love with you, not just I love you and for a second I believed it true.

The smell of burnt toast
The smoke alarm sounding
The Sweet aromatic hint of coffee
The familiar sound of breakfast TV
The erratic coughing of the old Lady
The constant barking of next doors hounds.
The Siblings shouting at each other while dressing .
The babies shallow cry all from an open window.
Then the regimental voice we all know and come to love.

" Shurrup you're all giving me a headache" and the split second silence followed by  " Oye you up yet C'mon you'll be late AGAIN !!"
The passionate loving voice of a stressed Mother sorting her troops.

Alas the neglected sound of silence fills the air...........until tomorrow.

©Grant Dickson 04/03/2016

We poets write from our hearts

I tried to keep a dream alive
I was just being made a fool
My happiness may take a dive
The tears I wept left a pool.

To read the news i was surprised
Couldn't even tell me to my face
A love so strong had now demised
Someone else had filled my place.

Such a fool I was to have believed
I thought I'd found my true in you
Here I am blamed yet myself deceived
Good wishes my friend for you are true.

I shall shed a few more tears I dare say
Magic moments locked in distant memories
Maybe loves arrow will be true one day
But for now we will sit and tell our stories.

Waking from a short sleep
From the curtains I did take a peep,
The sky it did look ugly I did say
Was something wicked on its way.

Pondering within the present moment
Feeling intrigued about what it meant,
Had I woken from a dream into reality
Or was it the reality of a dream to me

Visions of late I'm sure we've all had
Pain and suffering it's just so sad,
Thoughts of nuclear nightmares
Clasping hands we'd say our prayers.

Returning to the window we go
Waiting to see if the sun will glow,
Then it appeared orange blood red
Picturing Mysterious skies sat on my bed.

You see me Hurrying and scurrying
Gathering my food cautiously,
Looking around constantly worrying
Sneaking around precociously.

Weaving; bobbing, always dodging
Bushy tailed little scavenger I am,
So may despise me as I dwell in their lodging
But all I want is a home so don't give a dam.

Climbing my tree like a famous mountaineer
Old and young will wave or sit and say hello,
Quickly I think it's time to evacuate from here
The all clear I see and again on the ground I go.

Fluffy and Grey sometimes even Red
Speeding around among the leaves,
Time to nest and put my children to bed
Until once more the summer itself retrieves.

Grant Dickson 04/09/2017

This poem was inspired by a Squirrel

Bit of a scruffy scoundrel sometimes isn't it
around ones face like a lions mane it will sit,
Varied lengths shapes and colours
the growers are all like brothers.

It's not just ****** hair
some dont just stop and stare,
others want to touch the beard
maybe reading this you think that's weird.

Taking pride of place upon ones face
designer stubble there's not a trace,
like giving your pet a comb and groom
to some a shave would spell doom.

Though this may sound perverse
to touch it would be no curse,
pogonophiliacs want to give it a stroke
to others they sound like crazy folk.

Cooks we may not all be it's true
we love our women like our beards too,
adding in a little oil and sometimes butter
served to make their hearts flutter.

( C ) Grant Dickson 04/10/2018

The cold air seeped down with no heart,
What was once a sea of beauty and life,
Now had been turned to a grave of white and death,
The city had almost all but stopped living too.

Morning turned to night and yet all was still bright,
Panicking for necessities like bread and milk,
As if they were a commodity like gold and silk,
There was no lease from this grip of icy might.

The Robins so proud with their coats of glorious red,
Out playing like children on a canal iced bed,
Scattering wild seed around upon the snow covered ground,
Bobbing along like cheeky cherubim gathering with a chirpy sound.

A man stands in the not so far distance,
Stood outside clearing snow as it's finally stopped,
I ask and offer myself to give some assistance,
Is seems the final flakes have now dropped.

A path slowly appears as do others now congregate,
Friends, brothers, sister's all one with a common goal,
Time rolls on but we persist as it gets late,
A United effort from one and all like a heart to a soul.

(C) Grant Dickson 21/03/2018

You turned your back on me today
didn't even have the guts to say,
Cast out like a homeless person
Only teaching me one more lesson.

I was slowly getting my life back
Seeing me fight barriers and tears,
Finding music as my therapuatic track
Back and forth I went for a few years.

Building me up making me strong
Then with one swipe I was gone,
Not caring if it was right or wrong
As least I knew for a while I shone.

You took your patronising aid
Threw it back in my joyful face,
All the love and care you displayed
Then lit the fire while in bed I layed.

I may glow brighter as you fall
When your gone I will still be here,
setting a spark with one swift call
But I will remember have no fear.

(C) Grant Dickson 08/07/2018

Here we are as we sit and rejoice
Singing in union for God one voice,
Today the first if his son's advent
Voices of his children from heaven sent.

Today we gather to share our gifts he gave
Sharing in a world he died to save,
I looked over and wondered why ideas called hear,
This I Did for a year now it's very clear.

Each Sunday we begin with a song to start
A smile; a handshake, a hug even a hello,
No matter which it's a welcome from the heart
A prayer; a recital; a chat; a refreshment afore ye go.

It's in the Lord we come to rejoice
United as one he hears our voice,
The children go to learn and play
Joyfully returning with what they made today.

Today isn't just any Sunday
It's the first of four in our advent,
Born of Mary and Joseph in a manger he lay
Two thousand years passed to return one day.

Remembering our saviour like loved ones who pass,
As we sit at the table waiting for Christmas.

copyright Grant Dickson 03/12/2017

Our paths have different ways
Each one a new discovery,
Like the sunny or rainy days
Wondering what's going to cover me.

Here we are again another year
Not knowing what our future holds,
Living; looking around in a constant fear
Together we wake as our story unfolds.

This is the year of the young people
Help guide them in making good choices,
Encourage them to reach the highest steeple
They are our future let's hear there voices.

©Grant Dickson 01/01/2018