Tudor Times

Tudor times.

The plots, the threats, the lies,

Treason, poison and trusted spies.

Court was the place to be,

Execution was a fun thing to see.

Theater was at it’s best,

Shakespeare, Marlowe and the rest.

Explorers or pirates with their loot,

Heroes or villains ? – How astute!

Grammer schools for the rich,

The girls at home, were taught to stitch.

Big mansions were built in certain places,

With decorated chambers and private spaces.

The nobles clothes had jewels and all,

And fantastic self-portraits on the wall.

Bear-baiting was the cruel delight,

Both Henry and Liz loved the sight.

The Holy Bible was translated,

Catholics then were doomed and hated.

The Armarda was the Spanish fleet,

Which were forced to scatter and retreat.

Tudor England had a lot to offer,

The English, on the whole did prosper.

The historical facts are there,

For future generations to learn and share.

* This poem was also included in a performance by children who were 10 at the time.

Poems

                                    Poems can be written in many ways,
                                    Some are quick to create,
                                    Others take days and days.

                                   To be inspired over a certain theme,
                                   Can help the creative process,
                                   And the writing then, becomes a dream.

                                   Or better still, with no theme at "beck and call"
                                   You suddenly find yourself writing madly,
                                   About nothing at all!

                                  Personally, my poems have to rhyme,
                                  Don't ask me why?
                                  I guess it's something to do with music and time.

                                 I love to hear the words match,
                                 Making the writing more difficult,
                                 But oh! magic, when you hear the click and latch!

                                And when the poem's done,
                                What satisfaction to sit back,
                                And re-read the birth of yet another son!

                               I don't rhyme for folks to judge or see,
                               I write to explore and have fun,

                               It's part of me.  

Thirteen Retirement Steps.

                                                                  Rejecting.
                                                                  Regretting.
                                                                  Reminiscing.
                                                                  Readjusting.
                                                                  Revaluating.
                                                                  Recommencing.
                                                                  Rediscovering.
                                                                  Relaxing.
                                                                  Realizing.
                                                                  Relinquishing.
                                                                  Reigniting.
                                                                  Reemerging.
                                                                  Reliving.

Such is love.

                                  The inward joy, ah, the bliss,
                                  The feeling of being loved.
                                  The warm and passionate kiss,

                                  Ah....such is love!


                                  The whispered words shared by two.
                                  The hope of things to come.
                                  The tender stare used to woo,
                                  Ah...such is love!


                                  The sparkling eyes the happy look.
                                  The hours that fly by.
                                  The excited chatter, the attempt to cook,
                                  Ah...such is love!

The British School

                                  In this ever changing world in which we live,

                                 To our future adults we give,

                         The strong values that mould the young,

                         So let the praises of our school be sung.

                       The British School of Rio is in our hearts.

                           Tradition and education it imparts.

                         Each generation we shape and guide,

                       Giving them opportunities far and wide.

                     The seeds for tomorrow's happiness we lay,

                        And character we build from day to day.                    

                                Always striving for the best,

                        So that our youth can triumph with zest.

                             Exploring what the present holds,

                         So that tomorrow's secrets will unfold.

                      Our school will be the essence of our souls,

               Something to look back on, when we've all achieved

                                            our goals.

     * I can't remember what year this took place but, I was asked to write a poem that could later be put to music with the idea of having a school anthem. It never happened, and I found the poem in the middle of all my papers and wanted to share it....After all I gave 30 years of my life to this establishment!

Mummies Poem

                               Mummies, mummies all are we,
                        All bound up for eternity.
                     Bandages covering every part,
                    Tightly wrapped across the heart.
                 The sarcophagus is ready and waiting,
                   And we the mummies are hesitating....
                      Although afterlife looks like fun,
                          We are still - not done!
                      A little dance we'd like to do,
              To thrill you - through and through.....oooooooo!

  * This was included in a presentation on ancient Egypt. It was presented by children who were roughly ten or eleven. At the end of the poem they made-up their own sequence to a short dance to Michael Jackson's "Thriller".

My Teacher

                                            Não sei escrever em português,
                                            Mas chegou a minha vez,
                                            De agradecer à Janaina,
                                            Por ser tão gente fina!
                                            Já me ajudou demais,
                                            Com muita calma e muita paz.
                                            Me mostrou um novo mundo,
                                            Agora, sem medo, eu vou fundo!
                                            Com a tecnologia ao meu dispor,
                                            Jana me fez um enorme favor.
                                            A solidão que rondava,
                                            Está bem menos do que estava.
                                            É um ser iluminado,
                                            E cá estou eu dando meu recado!
                                            Gosto demais dessa menina,

                                            Na foto...a super teacher, Janaina!