Poetry - July 2011

False Hope

Every year down in SW19
One player is hyped to the masses
In the hope that he'll break the duck
Of British players not winning on grass
At the spiritual home of tennis
That is Wimbledon as we all know it
And each year that passes by
The focus all hinges on one Brit
Maybe this year the commentators say
That he'll finally break that duck
But of course there's more to it all
Than relying on anything such as luck
Each time he's got closer to a win
Which would make him everyone's pal
But usually there's Roger Federer
Or the one the ladies love - Rafael Nadal
You just think he might do something one day
But every time there's just false hope
As Andy Murray yet again gets so close
Try as he might, the public can't cope
With the epic failures and attempts
To win the most hallowed crown of all
More time spent watching BBC1 and 2
Being driven up the proverbial tennis wall.

(Just every year you think Andy Murray might win it - but then he ends up against Nadal and loses. Like this year. At least it went to four sets this time around.)

My Towyn Years

My grandad had a caravan
On one of the holiday park sites
And for years when I was younger
It was my annual highlight
To head to the North Wales coast
And stay in that little caravan
Heading over the railway bridge
And on to the beach I ran
I didn't care about the pebbles
I just wanted to head to the sea
To have the waves crashing all ashore
And I dared paddle as high as my knee
If I had some time later in the day
I'd head to the Black Cat arcade
Where I'd score well on Track and Field
And my skills would be on parade
But it was younger and innocent times
That made me fall in love with Towyn
When I go back I think of the changes
And how it stays the same year in.

(I was just thinking back to how when you were younger holidays couldn't be expensive trips abroad but you made do with what you had. A caravan in Towyn might not be everyone's cup of tea, but yet it made me appreciate being away just as much.)

Storyteller

I'm in between my songs
As I play live to you here
But I've got plenty to say
And plenty you want to hear
I'll reminisce about my childhood
Growing up in New York
And how it wasn't always so easy
When people thought you were a dork
Or maybe someone being punk
Wasn't so acceptable back then
And now you have those memories
Which everyone smiles at when
You do, it's all part of the show
And one you're enjoying a lot
You just want them to come back
When you're not the support slot.

(It was pretty fascinating when Jesse Malin was supporting Ryan Adams recently to hear him talk about New York and how he grew up there, and all the little stories between songs really did make for a lovely intimate set. Go see him when he tours in November.)

Hold Me

Hold me close, my darling
I just want to feel you there
Next to me, in my arms, all tight
Knowing that you're there
Makes me feel so safe and warm
That I don't want to let go of you
I treasure the moments we spend
And the time that we have
It goes by too quickly when we're together
I want time to stop at this moment
Just so I can hold you close forever
Your soft skin caresses me as you hold me
It feels to beautiful that you're here
And all so close to me too
I know that I'm really oh so lucky
Because you're here with me
You could be with anyone really
As you're such a beautiful woman
I'm just so happy that you chose me
And that makes me want to hold you more
So hold me, my darling
Tell me once more that you love me
As we part for the evening
But our love grows stronger.

(We've all felt like this, I'm sure of it. I know I feel it whenever I'm with the woman I love.)

Painful Haiku

The pain is still there
I wish it would go away
Sometimes I hate it.

(Pain can mean different things to different people, but I'm sure that we all have our ways of dealing with it.)