Reflection!

Christmas celebrations now an expensive memory

new year hangovers have abated

twenty seventeen just embedded in your thoughts

world turmoil continues

without even a moment of reflection of human cost

where compassion is lost!

 

Those enthusiastic resolutions are already forgotten

salaries and work a growing issue

more food banks created as the belts become tight

yet money there for public buildings

with the brexit deadline quickly looming up ahead

filling many with a sense of dread!

 

Europe seems more divided and a new president-elect

an air of depression lingers

for most they are resigned for yet another tough year

with the added fear of attack

the trust in politicians dividing our crowded nation

there is a need for unity and cooperation!

 

Sound a familiar pattern that keeps on repeating

every country has its tribulations

people have to battle on no point in weeping

with countless social frustrations

but for us to survive there must be some hope

or as problems soar we may not cope!

 

TheFoureyedPoet.

 

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Pressure!

Another day of hard graft ended at last

as a husband struggled home

drained of energy eager to see his wife

on a damp dark cold night

not wanting to show his rising stress

just feel her tender caress!

 

Working two jobs to make ends meet

the wife worked all day

two teenager children well thank god

a mortgage and rising debt

had become to him an increasing strain

but his hope would remain!

 

Society was creating too much pressure

bills and taxes ruled

cost of living forever on the upward scale

holidays but a memory

easy to feel there was no fun anymore

there were many really poor!

 

Wars raging refugees and homeless growing

the seasons disappearing

what was his reasons to moan he was lucky

home at last always glad

the wife was in the kitchen making dinner

noisy music he was a winner!

 

A kiss from his wife hello dad from the kids

they sat as a family together

at that moment all frustrations evaporated

until the new day felt good

money could not better this precious time

to him it was sublime!

 

The Foureyed Poet.

 

 

 

 

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