Harry the roofer
Is roofing no more
He lost his balance
And nearly fell to floor .
The ladder it seemed
To to go higher and higher
A voice in his head
Said its time to retire .
Fifty years he worked on heights
Climing large houses
And on building sights .
But now at the age of sixty five
He's done all he can
And he still does survive .
Harry the roofer will find it hard
With all that time on his hands
Away from folk back at the yard .
Harry says goodbye to his friends
The ones he has known for many years
All there best wishes too him they do send..
Harry the roofer will reap what he's sown
His house is now paid for
And the children have grown .
Yes Harry known as a haŕd working man
He now takes it easy spends time at home
He has bought a new car and sold his van.

I hate those words
Like
So long my friend
And
This is the end.
I hate those words
Like
Nothing last forever
And
No more sunny weather.
I hate those words
Like
It was never meant to be
And
No more you and me.
I hate those words
Like
We only have one life
And we never get it right.
I hate those words.

Ocean waves rise high
Powerful but can do no harm
The raging sea can do it's best
It's anger will be to no avail
Reduced to a mountain stream.
For love is the mighty force
Stronger than a hurricane
Unbeatable in its strength
It is built on solid ground
A foundation for well built towers.
Love is a friend that stands in wait
Those mighty waves subside
No sign of any turbulence
For love is unbreakable.
And all obstacles will be erased
For love is the power that will stand.

Great great great
Great
Grandpa
Pa
Son
This is our time
We have been called
To say NO! MORE violence
Against woman and children
They can become great if we
Become the CATALYST

I cannot describe this feeling
Of complete tranquility
Where the sweet birds sing
And the church bells ring
As I stroll within this cemetery.

My imagination running wild
I thought I saw a women
Then I thought I saw a child.
I heard the sound of laughter
But no one to be found

This is just my imagination
They are asleep beneath the ground.

He spent his life  in factorys
Worked his fingers to the bone
Fifty years have come and gone
Now retired he stays at home.
A family he provided for
Now the children they have grown
They have all moved on and fled the nest
They've got to make it on there own.
He looks around at all four walls
And he wonders just were he is going
So he thinks about this thing called life
And writes about it in a poem.