Poems from Edward Lopes


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I am a simple and ordinary man.

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Saturday July 28, 2007

50 Years of Marriage

50 Years of Marriage



50 years of marriage

A GOLDEN celebration

I pondered what to give you both

On this Special occasion.



Something for Dad?,

Something for Mum?

A bottle of perfume?

A bottle of Rum?



NO! Something special,

I do declare

Something of togetherness

for you both to share



So I asked around

both family and friend

For information

upon which to depend



Then I sat down

With paper and pen

To come up with a treasure hunt

For Beryl and Den



Now for those of you who are not aware

Treasure hunts were quite their flair

With Dorothy and Arthur to help them along

Often with the aid or a cheery song



But planning the task was quite a chore

It took lots of time and then some more

Dad would drive, trying not to curse

Whilst trying to put the route to verse



Now don’t worry mum! Your not in the car

And Uncle Arthur is sat afar

For a little bird recently confided in me

That he was quite fond of playing with your knee



And one night, so I am told

Just around midnight in the freezing cold

It’s thumbs up to Margam, Dad did fly

As Uncle Arthur let the tank run dry



But my treasure hunt today

Will take you back in time

And just like my parents

I’ll do it in rhyme



So let’s start with that fluffy feeling

Deep down inside

That makes your tummy feel like its riding

A magic carpet ride



50 years ago today

They floated down the aisle

Everyone smiled at the blushing bride

Her very own Prince Charming at her side



Now dad, he’s like most of us

Drinks tea out of a mug

Rarely sat upon a chair

Preferred the comfort of a rug



Mother, well, she was different

Bone China, it HAD to be

Nothing else was good enough

To hold HER cup of tea



Now this got her a reputation

Of being a bit of a snob

So much so, she got the name

Of ‘Queen Mother’ Just the job



Soon she started to put on weight

What could the matter be

He must have been a naughty child

‘Cos they waited 7 years for ME!



No, Philip, he was a perfect child

Trouble was my middle name

Mother wanted all Sugar and Spice

‘Tomboy’ though, is kinda nice



I never liked to go to bed

At least that’s what Aunty Dorothy said

I’d be hungry, starving, too hot, too cold

But you can’t believe everything that you're told



If I dared to misbehave

Whilst eating out

It was beneath the ‘Queen Mother’

To scream and shout



She’s scowl at me

with looks so stern

And you could see her thinking

“Will she never learn”



When that didn’t work

There was a treat for me

A sudden jab

Into my knee



Under the table, but of course

So nobody saw

But in a very loud voice came

“What you kick me for”



As a child I often got sent

To look for tistie tosties

Now don’t forget my dads a bit deaf

So he may think I said Kellogs Frosties



These are pine cones to the rest of you

Used in Floral Art with pride

And just like both of you today

They are together tied



You have to build on a marriage

It’s not all roses around the door

It’s love that’s kept you together

For 50 years and more



Mums tipple was a Port and Lemon

Dad preferred a mug of tea

And every Christmas without fail

Fay and I got a Pimm’s cocktail



Then to Uncle Ken’s and Aunty Babs on Boxing day

Where family games, we all did play

One year we played ‘Twister’ lots

Tying ourselves up in knots



Mum loved Christmas, and her tree was a work of art

It had to be symmetrical at each and every part

I’d wait and wait to take my chances

But for me, ‘twas the icicles on the lower branches



Christmas lunch was a bit of a chore

And one year the gravy ended up on the floor

Mum was fussing to get it done on time

As I was now working at 12 until 9



The following year, again

I worked a late on Christmas day

But mum said Christmas dinner early,

there’s just NO WAY!



So no Christmas dinner

No Christmas Roast

She said I had to make do

With beans on toast



One Sunday, off to Port Eynnon we went

Good job Mum took that little white tent

For Sunday dinner was what was in store

But very soon it began to pour



Now as we were all out for the day

Its just a bit of rain, mum would say

So into the tent we all did pile

To shelter from the rain awhile



Mother made dinner wherever we went

And that day we all sat down in the tent

To roast dinner and gravy to be fair



Many years later and soon after dark

At a quite little camping park

Taking the ‘Queen mother’ camping was quite a chore

She brought a piece of ‘Shoefayre’ Carpet to warm up the floor



Dad was a bit excited, as he sugared his mug of tea

He chattered as he stirred his drink, then promptly showered me

Poor Dad, ‘twas not his fault

For he had sweetened his tea with four teaspoons of salt!



Now let us join in prayer

For that royal place known as ‘SHOEFAYRE’

Where value is the keynote, and if your now at a loss

Later on, just ask the BOSS!



Where stock taking took place on a regular basis

Counting shoes, boots, handbags, don’t forget the laces

And sometimes now in the middle of the night

You can still catch mum checking the stock is right



Mum ruled her shop like a queen

Although as a boss, she wasn’t mean

However, when she said jump, her staff asked how high

Posted by Edward Lopes at 8:07 AM
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Comments:

very good poem.

Soul_Man Said on 7/28/2007 2:29:35 PM