Norman E Dale

Norman E Dale Poems

He sits alone upon his bed,
his aging fur threadbare.
I've always called him just old Ted,
cos he was always there.
...

The experts say
that sex each day,
is the answer to
recreation.
...

Fear not that I will speak of things
I should no longer speak of.
For unspoken words ring louder
sometimes, that the shout from
...

4.

Is there someone under my bed?
There's lots of dust, Mum said,
When Grandad died last year,
I never cried a tear,
...

I do not know, it is the truth,
was life much better in my youth.
When every love, each jug of wine,
those hours of joy, I took for mine.
...

Petals open in the morn,
faces turn toward the dawn.
Like golden orb, the sun climbs high,
or raindrops drip, like a tear filled eye.
...

And what about tomorrow,
for it's never far away.
Will it fulfil the hopes and dreams,
thay we have made today?
...

In the depths of velvet mind,
there dwells the one who no
one knows, save for those moments
when he shows, in torment or in
...

Oh yesterday, where have you gone,
so fast you slipped away,
while I in my naive way thought
your sun was here to stay.
...

For he who would through
needle seek, some other land
where free from pain, the sun
shines brightly and there is no
...

I bought a Morris Minor,
well, I thought there's nothing finer,
with its dark green paintwork
and its wooden dash.
...

Just a note to say farewell,
I won't be coming home this time.
For my blood lies spilled upon the
sand of foreign clime, so far away amid
...

When the evening comes and the sun has lost it's power,
When old men sit, to while away the hour.
When darkness creeps across a cloudless sky,
I see you once again, in my mind's eye.
...

He sits out in the garden,
if I may beg your pardon,
and he sits there if it rains, or in the sun.
He does'nt seem to mind,
...

The Ewe and her lamb had strayed into
the garden and were leisurely grazing
in the vegetable patch,
The Lamb was wearing the old man's cardigan.
...

The Best Poem Of Norman E Dale

Old Ted

He sits alone upon his bed,
his aging fur threadbare.
I've always called him just old Ted,
cos he was always there.

He wiped my eyes when there were tears,
yet never moaned, or frowned.
He held my hand through childhood fears,
he was good to have around.

He'd be there with his knowing look
and an enigmatic smile,
He taught me more that any book,
about patience, poise and style.

He watched them as they'd come and go,
the toys, the girls, the years,
but through it all, he never showed,
bad temper, stress nor tears.

Now he is old and I am grown,
he still waits upon his bed,
the bravest, loyalest bear I've known,
my bestest friend 'Old Ted'

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