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    Beyond the Bogs
    Beyond the Bogs
    Beyond the Bogs
    Ebook193 pages55 minutes

    Beyond the Bogs

    By Molly Ryan

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A compilation of poems written in decades. Some are written for some special people in my life and some are written by my father and by my spouse.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse UK
    Release dateMay 16, 2014
    ISBN9781496978394
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      Book preview

      Beyond the Bogs - Molly Ryan

      AuthorHouse™ UK Ltd.

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403 USA

      www.authorhouse.co.uk

      Phone: 0800.197.4150

      © 2014 Molly Ryan. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 07/08/2014

      ISBN: 978-1-4969-7838-7 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4969-7837-0 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4969-7839-4 (e)

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

      and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      Contents

      The beauty of this land.

      Rumble in the tummy.

      Life is precious.

      Glad his killers got life in prison.

      My Lost Love.

      Where are you, I am waiting.

      Poem written by Terry for me for Valentines day.

      Only the Lonely. (For my dearest friend Arthur)

      Tit for Tat.

      R.I.P.

      What did you get this Christmas.?

      What I really want from my Valentine.

      What happened to all the wild life.

      To be sure I do.

      Christmas nightmare.

      How many times have we heard this.

      The oldest swinger in Town.

      Alone he was.

      For My Lizzie

      Woodland Burial

      For Gordon

      Dick Whittington in London.

      The sun been shining today,

      Isn’t life grand.

      Words of Wisdom.

      Am I Bonkers

      Blame it on the Dog.

      One for you.

      The Bug.

      Les Toilettes France July 2013

      We all love a Pussy.

      The back street Abortionist.

      My thoughts for today.

      The Thief.

      Excrement.

      Caravan Dilemma.

      My forthcoming Holiday

      My Family.

      The Easter Tea dance.

      No No NO never be bored today, or any day. Xx

      Regrets.

      For Charlotte.

      Mothers day dinner.

      He must be Joking.

      Valentines Conclusion.

      Negative Thinking.

      A reply from Terry to my Valentines poem. Anticipation.

      Body Parts/Car Parts

      Grow old gracefully.

      Health & Safety gone mad.

      A poem formy friend Kim Clark in memory of her Dad.

      My Christmas poem.

      The Modern Day Santa.

      Dental Hygiene.

      For Dave your 60th today.

      For Your Kim.

      Trapped.

      Pests.

      In Memory of our Mum Julia’s Birthday today.

      In Memory of Dave.

      Message to God. 19/9/2012

      Suffer not little Children.

      The Organ Donor.

      The Homeless Man.

      Inspiration from Ann Bronte whilst at her Grave on Sunday 1.7.2012.

      He loves her still,

      The Lady of the night.

      From a poem written by, I do not know who, I love these lines.

      Abroad. For Dave.

      For Lizzie April 11th.

      St Patricks Day 2012.

      Arthur.

      Terry’s reply to my Mop and bucket.

      May 2009.

      The Christmas poem written by my Dad. 1973

      Winter

      When I was just 15years old.

      Hairy Knee Caps.

      Who are you.

      New Year.

      Valentine day.

      Spain 1996

      For D.D

      David D is my name

      Well blow me down fancy that.

      The Bride.

      The Hospital Waiting Game.

      Earwigs. France Summer 2010

      London Underground.

      Terry 2002

      Who are you.?

      A song for lizzie when she was young.

      Abroad. For Dave.

      To You.

      Heart.

      Grow Old with me.

      1953.

      Where are you.

      Heaven and Dreams.

      Dedicated to my daughter Elizabeth.

      The beauty of this land.

      Alone she sat in her bed,

      alone she sat at night,

      pen and paper in her hand,

      what should she write.

      She will write about tomorrow,

      for tomorrow never comes.

      She will write about the birds and the bees,

      the clouds that float on by,

      she will write about the stars that shine,

      that light the clear night sky.

      She will write about the sun that shines,

      that warms up the land,

      she will write about anything,

      that is oh so grand.

      She will write about the plants and flowers,

      that will catch her eye,

      the trains, the boats, and the planes

      that fly high in the sky,

      the pretty clothes that people wear,

      the scruffs, the down and outs.

      The city gents in their bowler hats,

      and the drunken louts.

      She will write about her lovers past,

      where are they all now.

      She will write about

      The ducks, the chicks, the farmyard pigs,

      the horses and the cows.

      all the animals on this land,

      you see when you are out.

      There are millions of things to write about,

      If you look and see,

      the beauty of all these things,

      are there for you and me.

      This is a true story that happened to me.

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