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Bernard Shaw

Bernard Shaw


Graz, Styria, Austria

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Fairy Tale


Bernard Shaw

I wish that I could write a fairy tale,
something for the children to enjoy.
I know that it could not possibly fail,
to enthral every little girl and boy.

I could write about a wicked Giant,
My hero would bring him to fall.
But my words are poor and not compliant,
My imagination is much too small.

So I will stay with my poems that rhyme,
No point in writing a fairy tale.
I just do not seem to have enough time,
I am sure that my story would fail.



Bernard Shaw

I like the Policeman that patrols our street,
He is a nice kind man with aching feet.
The kids all like him he always smiles,
Over the years he has walked many miles.

He always knows the time of day,
What is more he has plenty to say.
Sometimes he comes to the local schools,
To explain to the children the traffic's rules.

Also not to listen to strangers or take sweets,
For not every one is kind even on his beat.
To Mums and Dads he offers good advice,
For some of the children are not always nice.

A patient man that wears a uniform,
Some of his methods are not always conform.
A master of knowing what is right, what is wrong,
He shows the children the right path to go along.

If he should happen to come your way,
Be extra nice and bid him a good day.

Spiritual Guidance.


Bernard Shaw

I prayed for spiritual guidance a long time ago,

Nothing seemed to happen I thought Iíd let you know.

I looked for signs everywhere to where I went on earth,

It was as if the Devil himself was at my very birth.

I saw no Angels no miracles were in sight,

I thought that Lucifer was holding me awfully tight.

Strange things kept happening just to little old me,

He above it seemed had decided to let me strictly be.

I was disappointed and went no more to Church,

For I thought that he on high had left me in the lurch.

I was very bitter and full of ugly despair,

What was to become of me if he above did not care?

Then on one fateful day in the early spring,

I passed the local school and heard the children sing.

The sweet childish voices sang a well-known hymn,

"All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small,"

The children were confident that he had made them all.

The simple belief that came from those childish voices,

Showed me the signs and now my soul rejoices.

My life changed I now had my spiritual peace,

My want for guidance took on a real new lease.

I see the small things such as the wild flowers,

Each in itself a miracle, I had developed many new powers.

Creatures large and small I see every day,

Birds in the sky fly surely on their way.

There were miracles all around me,

My eyes were blind I did not see.

Sweet childrenís voices opened up my stony heart,

I now see his works everywhere and it is but just the start.



Bernard Shaw

I will call you princess for that is what you are.
A wonderful smiling being that came from another star.
Lovely large brown eyes and a perfect little face,
Make me feel so good to belong to the human race.
Your Mother pushes your perambulator out into the fresh air,
You sit and gurgle, smiling without a single care.
A blessing you are to my old weary eyes,
Every time I see you I get a new surprise.
You are as pretty as a picture I once saw in a book.
Now when I see your perambulator I always stop to look.
You lift my spirits and I am happy to see once more,
A sweet little lady that pleases me to the core.
I pray that I may live a few more years on earth,
Just to see you grow and fill my life with mirth.
For nothing is as important to a man like me,
To see a childish spirit that is obviously so free.
May you grow into an adult that abounds with pleasure,
For in my old heart you will always be my treasure.



Bernard Shaw

Promises, Promises, Promises galore,
A few for the Rich, Many for the POOR.
We'll promise anything just to get in.
Parliamentary ambitions are not too thin.
Promises from the Left, Middle and Right,
Promising the Earth with all their might.
If We get in ! One thing is for sure,
Our promises are yours for five years more.
So listen to our promises, you voting Nation,
We Promise every thing, even Salvation.
Now is the time to listen to our plea's.
At the next Election you will be down on your knees.
And we'll be the ones that will promise again,
That our Promises to you, wont be promises in vain.

Sunlight's Gleam.


Bernard Shaw

I saw a lonely sunlight gleam,
Gliding over a slow moving stream.
Two dragonflies in joyful flight,
What an entrancing, exotic sight.
Minnows swimming, darting here and there,
Daring me their water home to share.
A kingfisher perched ready to dive,
With colourful feathers so much alive.
Take it all in there is no need to dash,
See the hazel bushes and the ash.
Strewn the banks with lovely green,
Something that just must be seen.
Butterflies flying here and there,
as if wanting with me to share.
Once again nature is supreme,
this is true not just a dream.
I sit for hours to take it all in,
For me a part of my worldly win.
Sunlight glides over a slow moving stream.
Not just a part of a wonderful dream.

Lomg, Long Ago.


Bernard Shaw

Once upon a time long, long ago,
When lifeís pace went ever so slow.
People had time to see lifeís run,
No rush or hurry to get things done.
Life went by at a steady pace,
Neighbours looked each other in the face.
A helping hand here and there,
Hardships causing people to share,
Village life was lived at ease,
A time when life did please,
Now the rush and bustle to get things done,
Has taken away lifeís very fun.
No time to look at Natures beauty,
People fall back ward to do their duty.
Take me back to long ago,
That I too may live my life so slow,
See the beauty that is all around,
In the Heavens and on the ground.

My Hand


Bernard Shaw

Guide this my hand; guide it well,
Over virgin paper so pure and white.
Let me a story of love tell.
Love that is filled with delight

May my hand never fail or tire,
Words of wisdom flow this very day.
For love is filled with wanting desire,
Yes this is what I want to say.

So come gentle words of sweetest love,
Help fill this patient sheet of white
May it be about a Damselís glove?
Or of kisses stolen in the night.

Baby Face.


Bernard Shaw

A smiling baby face I saw,
as today I opened my front door.
Big blue eyes shining so bright,
Gave me great pleasure much to my delight,
Babies have a face of their own,
It is as if they sit on a golden throne.
All that see such a smiling face,
Are glad they belong to the human race.
Fragile, small, with questioning eyes,
There is no doubt they come from the skies.
For only heaven such a wonder can bring,
that make our earthly hearts to sing.
Babies you know make my day,
thanks to Heaven for sending them my way.
Every day I open my front door.
I hope to see them more and more.



Bernard Shaw

This poem is dedicated to my lovely wife. I am a Parkinson Patient, This I wrote for the girl of my dreams.


For All Caregivers

Hold my hand for I am afraid,

I cannot do anything without your aid.

Stay patient, stay gentle, yours is a hard task,

Try to remember me before my face was a mask.

My Parkinson illness is here to stay,

I have this feeling that it will not go away.

Slow and clumsy my coordination a mess,

Each day you give me more not less.

Muscles have no more power you know,

Every thing I do is so very slow.

I cannot help you when you me dress,

Or what is worse when you clean up my mess.

A piteous effort on my part,

When my body is literally falling apart.

Once there was nothing that I could not do,

My darling now I must rely on you.

Now you too are getting older and frail,

Who is to help me if and when you fail?

I speak to you but my voice is so weak,

You have to strain whenever I speak.

I have difficulties to find a word,

I do not know if you have heard.

Writing to tell you of my great love,

Is all I can do now my sweet dove?

I cannot always caress your cheek,

The strength in my arms is very weak

My love for you now and in the past,

Is the only thing that I know will last?

I am a rich man when I bask in your love,

You know I am meek not the kind to shove.

Your love is gentle you were never rough,

You never waiver when things are tough.

What did I do to make you love me?

I was a no-body what in me did you see.

Whatever it was I am grateful to you,

You made me happy to you I am true.

This burden of illness is sometimes too great.

I just thank the good Lord that you are my mate.

Gnarled Old Hands.


Bernard Shaw

Gnarled old hands, worn with toil,

Fingers that are stiff and bent.

These are the hands that have worked the soil.

In many long years well spent.

Once you held seeds in those hands,

Handled them with love and care.

Sewn them over the barren lands,

That others your labours might share.

Those hands harvest the crops of corn,

The sweat pouring from your brow.

A beloved Son to you was born,

Now his hands are holding the plough.

As you gaze over the newly ploughed fields,

Do your fingers cramp as of old.

Are your thoughts of the harvests wield,

That cannot be weighed with gold.

The time is coming for those hands to rest,

Years of work have taken their toll,

Loved ones will fold them across your breast.

And lasting peace will come to your soul,

Your eyes will be opened as your maker you meet.

Those gnarled old hands are at rest.

Heavenly rewards will be so sweet,

For you have given of your best.

Derby And Joan.


Bernard Shaw

There they sit, day by day,

They do not talk, there is nothing to say.

Darby and Joan the eighties for bye.

Enjoying the Sun and the light blue sky.

They smile to each other a tender smile.

Theirs has been truly a life worth while.

Children give them a great delight.

They feed the birds , a wonderful sight.

Then one day they are no more there.

Gone forever in God's good care.

Memories dim others take there place.

Things seem to quicken at a much faster pace.

Soon I will sit with my lovely wife.

Darby and Joan as large as life.

We too will be slow and not have much to say.

But our love will live on, until one day.

Some-one will notice that we have gone away.

Away to a place where love will reign.

And we will be young and living again.

Memory Lane.


Bernard Shaw

Come stroll with me down memory lane,

Your life will never more be the same.

Remember when you were young and so agile,

Forget the now forget that you are fragile.

As a child you could not wait,

Christmas. Birthdays came always so late.

Time seemed to go slower in the good old days,

Over the years you have altered your ways.

Think back to your first day at school,

Excitement in the classroom and your very own stool.

Sitting at your desk listening to Teachers voice,

You would sooner be playing; this is not of your choice.

A swim in the river with kids of your age,

Not in a classroom it was just a cage.

The cinema was then all the rage,

The first cigarette you were under age.

Then the first date that you remember so well,

A first shy kiss your parents you did not tell.

The school dance you ask what shall I wear,

In those days about your appearance you did care.

Schooldays left behind you your very first job,

Your sweetheart has left you; time for a sob.

A new romance serious this time.

You hear Church bells ringing what a lovely chime.

Marriage then children doesn't time go fast?

Dwell on the good thoughts they will not last.

Now dwell on the thrills and joys in your life,

The memories pour through some cut like a knife.

It has been pleasant this trip down memory lane,

When you are up to it we can do it again.

Bottle Post.


Bernard Shaw

Splashing, sparkling water pure,

Gaining strength as you rush to the sea.

Carrying a bottle with a message sure,

That I wrote to my love after tea.

Float my bottle on the water's wave,

Carry my message to my love,

This note my happiness will save.

And I thank sweet Heaven above.

Surely a guiding hand will bring my writings ashore,

Straight to my waiting heart,

To lift her spirits empore.

My Bottle Post is just the start.



Bernard Shaw

Dewy tear drops on your cheek,

Barren loneliness that you seek.

A form of sadness weighs you down.

Bereavement clothes you like a gown.

A human frailness I do see,

On your visits, rare to me.

Have you lost that costly spark,

That guides we humans through the dark.

Must your sorrow so sadly clear,

Cling through to my unwilling ear.

For each one of us alone,

Has a wanting to atone.

A need of love forever lost,

An endless time of foreboding frost.

The coldness of that waiting grave,

Frantic efforts your way to pave.

To bring back to life, once more,

With love and tenderness, so very sure.

That you dear friend, may with me,

Go hand in hand through eternity.



Bernard Shaw

A touch, a smile, a gesture small,

Your love surrounds me like a wall.

Unending patience did you bring,

Making this selfish heart to sing.

You moulded this being into one,

From darkest depth to brightest sun.

As through the years together we go,

Growing older, getting slow.

My love, my life, my only one,

There's just one thing I have not done.

This I must do straight away,

Before the end of another day.

With love, with thanks ever new,

WIFE, I dedicate myself to you.