Michael Marland, Woodberry down

Head Teacher - Woodberry Down 

Michael Marland was a force in education with many ideas that led forward a revolution in social teaching, a great man with a peculiar look, my head teacher. for those who met him. This story in the independent helps him live on 

https://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/michael-marland-headteacher-and-educationalist-861291.html

This world

In this world an alien lives, 

he moves around upsetting the balance

struggling to level out, never can advance

What is it all about ?

If the world stops revolving 

could we fall into demise ?

collapse into darkness with no ability to rise

An alien lives in this world

affecting our decisions causing divisions

ugliness in nature, minor things become major

have you thought; we could look in the mirror

stare hard only to find the alien that we see

the person we are looking at is;

either you or maybe me. 

Old Heart

Life goes quick and I find myself at sixty

It can be hard and it can be tricky

I’ve never knowingly; known the way

I’ve never ever knew; just what to say

I have good days; on odd occasion 

Mostly I cannot work out the equation 

I think I’d try hard and be promoted

for some reason not known, I end up demoted

hurting with self absorption, stupid though I’m not

cleverly disguised discussion; I haven’t got

remembering a friend yesterday; his past

mourning his existence, will forever last

too many shattering thuds, leave a heart of glass

too many failures for hardened graft

read no more, I can hear you laugh

Snow

Snow lay heavily around on the ground, 

It crackled with a snapping, cracking sound

the bin men refused to come this day

due to the high hills, along the way

“what is the point in it” they say

“the rats are frozen anyway”

instead they chose to grit the roads

except my cul de sac; it is forbode 

too far away from anywhere that matters

close knit houses with lots of chatters

cars on drives; snow turns to ice

not home for a day but twa or thrice

hand full of bad luck #

I received a letter, just the other day

it told me of fortunes that were coming my way,

of money and wisdom and joys to behold

the glistening treasure buried in gold 

the torture of freedom are promises bold

that leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of heaven would be a delight

Yet it leaves a man struggling to put up a fight

A cheque through the door, made me sixty quid rich

the very next letter was oh such a bitch

Fifty nine forty it said on the bill

Sixty pence change, just seemed so unreal 

for the torture of freedom are promises bold

They leave you so broken and out in the cold

a promise of something is such a delight

a wanton feeling of something that might

today was the day that I might win again

to lose all that money would be such a sin

yet when I cashed in yeh feeling so smug

I was mugged in an alley by a  desperate luck thug

for the torture of freedom is money I hold

It could leave one broken and out in the cold 

the promise of something could leave you instead

at home and alone just crying in bed

Yehess I think I’ll just lay in;…and dreeam instead