The North and the South
We came together the north and the south,
No terrorist will divide us were British and proud,
Patriotic, unflinching midst terrorist threat,
Caused by minds twisted with hatred we’ve not fathomed yet,
The north and the south of this country of ours
Were battered and shocked as the carnage unfolded,
We feel for the, injured, the frightened, the slain,
Purportedly committed, in Allah’s name,
This cannot be true as most Muslims declaim,
The actions of few, sully their good name,
A nation divided is no nation at all,
No threats should divide us, as actions appal,
Manchester, London, great cities united,
In love with our city’s the Zealots have blighted.

©Ted Morgan

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After the terrorist attack on my town my poem

My Manchester

Manchester’s hurting its people are sad,
For the slaughter, they witnessed was more than just bad,
A mindless act by a terrorist fiend,
Caused the death of the innocents, where joy had just been,
Our city is famous for its friendly persona,
Its caring and sharing, its music and humour,
All came together to help the injured and strangers,
With compassion and kindness midst terrorist dangers,
This city will never be submissive and cowed
Mancunians are strong, open hearted and proud,

Ted Morgan

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Wild Garlic

Wild Garlic Leverhulme Park Bolton Lancs  England.

Wild Garlic
You walk beneath the leafy bowers of Ash and Oak, and Elm,
Round the trees wild garlic grows, which transforms this woodland scene,
A few short weeks is all it has, to bedeck our forest floor,
Whilst a pungent odour fills the air as you silently explore,
It reigns  from April until June its life so brief a span,
But its culinary flavour is sometimes used by man,
The sea of white when in full bloom is the forests bridal gown,
Whilst bluebells act as bridesmaids, before summer cuts them down,
So, wander in the woods with me, and be the garlic’s beau,
For in that shady wonderland, true peace is what you’ll know.
© Ted Morgan

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The Blackbird

The Blackbird

Each morning high atop the elm

The blackbird greets the sun,

And from its lofty perch on high

Its morning songs begun

It matters not if rain doth fall

Or frost coats twig and branch

Its lilting melody and trills,

Says morningtide has come,

It tells the flowers to open,

And other birds to sing,

So that the dawn time chorus,

Blends in with howling wind,

It sings through spring and summer

Tis music to the ear,

And fills our hearts with joyous song

All seasons of the year,

If you whistle to the blackbird,

A reply you’ll quickly hear

Just to say good day to you

And fill you with good cheer..

Ted Morgan  Easter 2017

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A Childhood War

I am now 79 and was thinking about my childhood the following poem is the result It is being used in a local school to give children a small insight of how war  affected children’s lives.

A Childhood War.

When I was a little lad I went to school,

With wellies for shoes which was against the rule

But how could I say, all the money was spent,

For food on the table and to pay the rent,

My dad he died early as a result of Great War

And my, mam she struggled just to feed us all,

I had two sisters much older than me,

And I was the “baby” as was plain to see,

It was in war time, which was a great blow,

My sister’s they worked, but wages were low

One packed parachutes for the men at the front,

The other made macs, with needles she said often blunt,

At school we had milk in a bottle so small,

And school diners were bad, stogie mash that was all,

The Germans came over and bombed our fair city,

Many building they crashed, which was a great pity,

In school we behaved or else got the strap,

And believe me, I tell you it wasn’t just a tap,

Few sweets in the shops only 2ounces a week,

With rations and coupons, no room for food pique,

You ate what was put there, no fads were allowed,

You had tripe, and trotters, and brawn from pig’s jowls

Few presents at Christmas no turkey or goose,

A rabbit maybe, washed down with some   juice,

Pennies in’t gas meter no washers or phone 

Just a wireless for news, most women alone

Their men at the front fighting the foe,

When the call up came, men just had to go,

Wash days were Mondays with wringer and tub,

In winter, its drying in house caused a fugg,

Socks they were darned, not thrown out like now,

Clothes patched when the holes came, but we managed somehow,

Played games in the street few cars were about,

And if you transgressed coppers gave you a clout,

VE day bonfires and one for VJ ,

Magical days when the guns went away,

Men they came home from places far flung,

To girlfriends and wives, parted by war for too long,

And a nation remembered the people they lost,

And families counted their own grievous loss.


© Ted Morgan Feb 2017.

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Post Festive Thoughts

Post Festive Thoughts
The Christmas splurge is over
Boxing Day’s been boxed,
The presents have been played with,
And sweets, the kids have scoffed the lot,
The relatives have all gone home,
Empty bottles in the bin,
And only New Year to endure,
When some diets will begin,
We look at our waistlines,
And vow to get them slimmer,
But then we gorge on turkey,
At a festive New Year dinner,
Our heads are still a thumping,
Our livers gone on strike,
We feel a kind of queasiness,
From this festive drink laden hike,
We look towards the coming year,
To begin our new routine,
But in our hearts we all know,
It’s another festive dream.
© Ted Morgan 2017

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Break up

A young boy came home from school one day, where’s my dad ? he asked his mum,

She really did not want to say ,just where his dad had gone,

Whilst young the marriage broke up ,both parties were to blame,

But truth is sometimes hidden with excuses that are lame,

The boy grew up without a dad to show him manly things

Whilst single mums try very hard to bridge the gap it brings,

If parents only thought about, the impact if their strife,

And how it can affect, all their children’s later life,

Both parents need to compromise, allow access to their spouse,

So balance can be maintained , in their children’s dwelling house,

Male and female guidance shape how their children learn,

The rights and wrongs of living during the wheel of life’s slow turn,

It’s not always possible , for this pattern to fit each child,

But try and make it happen, do not by rancour be beguiled

© Ted Morgan  2016


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