My poems are me
So, ok I know I’ll never be poet laureate
never amount to much…
A little bit tongue in cheek
With an element of truth,
my scribbling may have touched a nerve,
Maybe considered not theologically sound
But when I write, its…
My words my voice
Like marmite love ‘em or hate em
But it’s what I see
At seventy years old I’ve earned the right,
To be a grumpy grandpa
An angry old man
Why should I blur the Gospel
So people’s feelings don’t get hurt?
My words my poem, my voice,
Not going to compromise
The Gospel
Cos ‘in these times’,
‘the mess the church’s gotten into’
‘ the twenty first centuries gone liberal’
we’ve got to move on?’
Sorry if you don’t like what I’m saying but,
My words, my poem, my voice,
Not yours, if you don’t like it, write your own one
Mine come from my heart
it’s beaten 2 1/2 billion times, so far,
at 70 I’ve earned the right
To be angry,
A grumpy grandpa
Have I said that before?
Have I repeat what I said again?
Has the world tarnished?
Coloured my point of view?
Got to scratch the itch
Say it as I see it
My poem, my words, my voice
If you disagree at lest you’ve read them
Get published? I doubt…
A dyslexic old codger
Trying to reach out…
maybe I’ve planted a mustard seed,
a thought
An idea, considered
‘out side the box’
Or maybe it’s just an old man drooling,
My words…
my poem…
My voice!
So, ok I know I’ll never be poet laureate
never amount to much…
A little bit tongue in cheek
With an element of truth,
my scribbling may have touched a nerve,
Maybe considered not theologically sound
But when I write, its…
My words my voice
Like marmite love ‘em or hate em
But it’s what I see
At seventy years old I’ve earned the right,
To be a grumpy grandpa
An angry old man
Why should I blur the Gospel
So people’s feelings don’t get hurt?
My words my poem, my voice,
Not going to compromise
The Gospel
Cos ‘in these times’,
‘the mess the church’s gotten into’
‘ the twenty first centuries gone liberal’
we’ve got to move on?’
Sorry if you don’t like what I’m saying but,
My words, my poem, my voice,
Not yours, if you don’t like it, write your own one
Mine come from my heart
it’s beaten 2 1/2 billion times, so far,
at 70 I’ve earned the right
To be angry,
A grumpy grandpa
Have I said that before?
Have I repeat what I said again?
Has the world tarnished?
Coloured my point of view?
Got to scratch the itch
Say it as I see it
My poem, my words, my voice
If you disagree at lest you’ve read them
Get published? I doubt…
A dyslexic old codger
Trying to reach out…
maybe I’ve planted a mustard seed,
a thought
An idea, considered
‘out side the box’
Or maybe it’s just an old man drooling,
My words…
my poem…
My voice!