Poems

The time has come, the term has ended,
Another academic year descended,
Minds full of knowledge, confidence grown,
A newfound sense of self they own.

It’s Mum’s time now, six weeks to fill,
Six weeks to keep them learning still,
Six weeks of fun, six weeks of zest,
Let’s make this summer the very best.

Let’s grab a pen, let’s find some paper,
Let’s make a plan for now and later,
Sanity, we must preserve it,
A list is surely most deserved.

Schedule the park, maybe take the bus,
A colour-coded list’s a must,
We’ll categorise the days and weeks,
Then smooth the edges, make some tweaks.

The calendar’s a work of art,
Every day’s a brand new start,
The children won’t just be amused,
They’ll make memories they’ll never lose.

The weather? Oh that’s no bother,
We’ll splash through rain like any other,
Too much sun, let’s hit the beach,
We’ll build a den, ice cream for each.

And then before you know it Mum,
The Summer Holidays are gone,
And in their wake, they leave their mark,
Adventure starts with just one spark.

They won’t remember every plan,
Or every place that summer ran,
They’ll simply know beyond compare,
The greatest gift was you were there.

Cancer, you’re a dickhead,
You turned my world around,
You hoped that I was weak,
And that I’d break into the ground.

Cancer, you’re a dickhead,
You’re a cruel and twisted soul,
A single cell that multiplies,
And tries to take control.

Cancer, you’re a dickhead,
You don’t care who you attack,
Young or old, it makes no odds,
You never once look back.

You’ve taken far too many, but they did not lose a fight,
They weren’t weak, they didn’t fail – you simply stole their light.

Cancer, listen up, it’s time we had a chat,
See, there’s something you forgot, a tiny little fact:
I’ve been fighting since before you came, before you had a name,
I’ve already faced my darkest days, the bruises and the shame.

So don’t stay with me too long, I don’t think we’ll coexist,
I’ve no room for you, no space to give, no place for you to rest.
Okay, I’ll give you just five minutes, when I’ll wallow and I’ll cry,
Then I’ll pick myself back up – and give tomorrow one more try.

You thought you’d take the whole of me, consume my bloody life,
I don’t know why you picked on me, but I’m ready for the fight.
I’ll fight till I can’t stand – then I’ll fight sat on my arse.
Cancer, you’re a dickhead if you thought I’d break that fast.

I hope that seeing you off means you won’t return for more,
See, I don’t ever want you back – I’ve closed and locked the door.
I’ve bolted it quite tight you see, there’s no more to be said,
Because you are, without a doubt – a bona fide dickhead.