I Almost Forget To Worry

The sun is filtering through the trees

Those Edwardian summers had a cool breeze

It’s late afternoon and I feel hazy.

The brown suited park keepers are grumpy

It’s a couple of hours before the park closes

And they want to go home

It’s been a busy day

Such a busy day

Oh such a busy day.

We sit on a bench by the bandstand

Lost in the tranquillity of a leafy afternoon

The city seems so far away

So far far away

Far far away.

The conductor flaps his wings

The band begin to play

Drifting through the trees

Drifting on the breeze

And across the fields

The old folk are dancing.

And they grow young again

As they dance down Memory Lane

That secret place

Where many dreams are sleeping.

“I’ll have the last waltz with you

Two lonely people together

I fell in love

The last waltz will last forever“.

Between years of hard graft

And surviving a world war

It’s possible a dream could awaken still

Now down Memory Lane

They keep on dancing..

There go Pop and Gran in all their finery

Down Memory Lane they keep on dancing

Pearly Queens and Pearly Kings

Down Memory Lane they keep on dancing.

Down Memory Lane we all keep on dancing .

Dancing

Dancing

Dancing

Forever dancing.

A childlike sun smiles at us

Trees slumber in the afternoon heat

Birds sing in harmony

Here it feels like heaven,

I almost forget to worry about the fact that it might rain.

Frank Bangay

Autumn 2002

Crossing The Road

He stood on the pavement

Cursing the traffic

His carrier bag was flapping in the wind,

How he longed to get to the other side

But everything went too fast for him.

Traffic speeding by

He mumbled and moaned

Bloody nuisance, bloody nuisance.

He said to himself

Here comes a police car with sirens blaring

What a bloody noise they make

But I suppose they have to get to the scene of the crime.

He stood there grumbling

He had to make a move

But he was too slow witted

He depended on his walking stick.

He walked down the road

Not wanting to feel defeated

It seemed safer going to the traffic lights

Than dashing past the cars.

Sometimes he needed help

But he had difficulty putting it into words

Sometimes it is hard to cry

Especially in public.

A part of him wanted to be tough,

But life can appear to be as tough as nails,

He longed to hear compassionate voices

He felt that might help.

He stood on the banks of the river

Looking for a bridge to help him cross over

He decided to put his trust in GOD

GOD’S love would help him get across.

Frank Bangay

November/December 09

the Ballad Of Stan And Jack

Jack Frost is a cunning rouge

Always interfering with Stan’s garden

Then he jumps over the fence

And interferers with the garden next door.

Jack Frost has a pale white face

And spiky white hair

He wares nimble running shoes

No hob nail boots for him.

One February day Stan thought he saw Jack

Playing pranks in his garden

Giving frostbite to his Pelagoniums.

Stan was standing there smoking a Senior Service

From a packet he had just bought at the newsagents.

He stubbed out his cigarette

And started to chase after Jack Frost

But Jack jumped over the wall

And Stan was out of breath.

“You really should try to cut down smoking”

Said Stans wife Doris

Then she lit up a Players Weights

And carried on with her dusting.

Stan was a decent chap

He lived in Eltringham Street Battersea

Terraced houses with doorsteps

And a coal fire in the front room.

A Cheshire cat sits near the fire

When its not outside spying on pigeons..

Stan wore a cloth cap

He often wore braces

He would go into his local

And give the young ladies his graces.

Some said that Jack Frost wouldn’t survive

The effects of global warning

But he fought back

And alas

Continues to play havoc with our gardens.

Stan carried on nursing his pelargoniums

Then he took of his cloth cap

And in prayer he said

Dear GOD please bring springtime.

Frank Bangay

March 010

Snowdrop

With upright green leaves and delicate white flowers

You greet the winter grey.

Withstanding those days

Of crisp blue skies

When Jack Frost shows no mercy.

In the evening chill

Darkness comes

Still you stand strong

Waiting for the morning light,

Oh beautiful snowdrop.

February is your month of glory

But sometimes you brave the January weather,

Soon crocus flowers

And scented hyacinths will follow.

By late March the revolution will start

As daffodils and tulips join in the fun.

I take a stroll in the park

The birds are singing

I listen to the urban symphony,

Traffic rumbles

Sirens screech

Lord sometimes I am wrapped up in my sorrows.

But this display of colour

Cheers me up.

Eventually summer light will be here

We move a little nearer every day,

But you brave snowdrop

Wake up in mid winter

To tell us that the journey is underway.

Frank Bangay

February 2010

And They Will Stay Beautifull

Where Vikings once landed

Now UFOs are spotted

And I like to believe it true.

What was once wild marshland

Has been reclaimed

But history still shows through..

Country plants grow on the riverbank

In spring and summer they tower

Showing beauty in their strength

Flowers pollinated by busy bees.

Butterflies perform a delicate dance

Many different birds sing from trees

A symphony so much sweeter than the urban din.

Trains rumble in the distance

I listen to the far away tune

Amongst the foliage

I nearly forget about the city.

When the conflict of noise and pollution

Gets too much to put up with

And I need space to breathe.

Let me walk amongst the weeping willows

Along the banks of the muddy river

The Lea valley flowing out into Hertfordshire

And beyond,

Let me be at peace.

What once was wild marshland

Has become beautiful again

The past stirs from it’s slumbers

Let the beauty keep flourishing.

Hackney Marshes

A little spirituality

In an often soulless world

Frank Bangay

March 1998

Greed Or Love

Greedy men fight each other for power

They never think about love

Dear GOD,

I never want to be like that.

Greedy men make less fortunate people desperate

And when their despair gets too much

They condemn their actions,

There is no fairness in this

Oh lord,

No fairness at all.

Another war being raged on the venerable

Sometimes the war claims lives,

The fog of deception

Can be difficult to see through

We are not lazy

When disabilities inhibit us,

When we struggle with poor mental health.

I stand at the waters edge

Looking at my reflection

I want to free myself of my burdens

And live a better life

Down by the riverside.

Did John The Baptist really lose his head

At the whim of King Herod’s daughter

Do our lives really become that futile?

Greedy people forget about compassion

Sometimes they compete with their friends

I wake in the morning

To face this troubled world

Where powerful people

Often misuse their power

There are moments when I feel like giving up

But there are too many reasons to carry on

Dear GOD please guide me.

Frank Bangay

August 012

God Bless Poo Bear

On the day that my computer smiled

It was cold and grey outside

It was cold and overcast inside my mind.

I went to visit yahoo mail

To see if anyone had written to me

To get there you pass by the latest news of the day.

Recession and pessimism

Wars that rage on

So much worry and fear.

Fears that can grab me

And make me feel anxious,

Make me feel sad,

When my confidence is low

And I struggle to say a prayer.

What do I see

Amongst this news

Winnie the Poo to return to the world of literature.

I wondered

Can he survive

In this often cold world of today?

I see a landscape of post war housing estates

Rain clouds drifting across a grey sky

Washing flapping on washing lines.

Cats prowl about

A restless dog barks,

Pigeons peck at the concrete

Buddleia grows out of walls

It survives,

And flowers,

Plastic bags hang from tree branches

The first blossom of spring.

But there is a leafy lane somewhere

Leading to One Acre Wood ,

Here Tigger Jumps, Rabbit busies himself,

And Piglet plays Poo Sticks with Winnie

The river flows by.

Eeyore worries about the recession

But the others will try to cheer him up.

Eeyore has a stubborn faith

Despite all the knocks

He will soldier on

We will soldier on.

Frank February 2008

He Was A Poet

He was a poet

But he wore an unfashionable raincoat

He was a mystic but the grey weather blocked his view,

He was English through and through

He believed in the old traditions

He longed for them to return

He dreamed of pie and mash shops

Reappearing on the high street.

He was a poet

He wrote loads of words

He was a philosopher

He longed to be heard,

He sat in Lyons Tea Houses

Over a cup of tea and a buttered scone

He would express his views

To anyone who would listen.

He is a poet

Some think he’s funny in the head

He walks down the high street with his carrier bags,

He talks to himself

Sometimes he finds communication hard

But he believes that one day

The world will hear his words.

Frank Bangay

August 06

Easter 1966

Fifteen years old

I graduated into the working world.

Momentarily I avoided digging roads,

Lifting boxes,

Unloading lories.

I became a messenger for a shipping company

A glorified tea boy.

Bermondsey Street near London Bridge station

I liked the smells of the neighbouring spice warehouses,

Walking round the City of London in the snow

It snowed a lot that Easter.

My youthful feet took me all over the City

From Houndsditch to Ludgate Circus

From office to office

I enjoyed the discovery.

Then there was the typewriter that got me the sack

I had never used a typewriter before.

A trip down the Labour Exchange

And I graduated to lifting boxes

Unloading lorries

In a warehouse.

Frank Bangay

May 05

Morning Prayer

Dear Lord

We have made it

Through another night

Sometimes it’s been turbulent

Sometimes it’s been calm.

Birds sing

Cars cough and splutter

As their engines start up

The day wakes.

Sometimes there is a blue sky

And we are keen to greet the day

Sometimes it’s cold and overcast

And we want to hide away

Lord there have been terrible times

When I didn’t want to wake up,

By God’s grace I survived,

Dear lord I greet the day.

Sometimes with uncertainty

But if I pray

I know you will guide me.

Lord I think of those in war torn countries

Facing on going conflict and crisis

I will try hard

To find the strength

To pray for them.

Sometimes I can greet the day

With excitement and enthusiasm.

But I can say from my heart

However I’m feeling

Dear God

Thank you for waking me this morning.

Frank Bangay

Late August early September 05

evening prayer

Dear Lord

The day is nearing it’s end

The light is dimming

Street lamps come on

A little weary

I try to rest.

Through the days

The ups and downs

I wear a tired frown Lord I find it hard to smile.

There are days when I feel good

There are days when I feel inspired

I want to create a symphony

In praise of life,

Thankyou GOD.

LORD these days are troubled

There are wars that wont stop

I listen to the evening news

And the conflicts dragging on.

A disaster in nature

A cry from this troubled earth,

I will try to pray

I will try to pray

Oh lord we pray oh lord we pray.

Dear LORD we face the night

Sometimes it can be a troubled ride

Over stormy seas of sleeplesness

Sometimes troubled dreams leave us feeling disturbed,

Sometimes the night is calm

Please let the night be calm.

So as I seek rest

I will say

Dear GOD thank you for helping me through the day.

Frank Bangay

Late August early September 2005

she loves you

normal man

round the bend

angels watching over me

a summer garden

angels blessing stans garden 1

journey through the day

The Gremlins Walk Amongst Us