My Little Girl

Can I protect you from this wicked world and keep you wrapped up as my little girl? But I want you to be your own world. I want to stop you getting hurt, keeping you alert to the world that will corrupt, interrupt and disrupt you. The world that will slay you pray on you; mess with you.

How can I make you see, stop you making the same mistakes as me, making your life wonderful and complete, keeping your life nice and neat? Preparing you for the challenges you will meet and people who will try to take your seat.

Can I Save You from your soul, save you from digging a big hole, wrap you up and hide you from the world so you stay as pure as snow? but, in my heart I think you know what you need to do, but it doesn’t stop me worrying about you.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017


Life’s a Beach

Buckets and spades and dark sun shades, deck chairs form a promenade. Children in hats play in the sand digging with anything including their hands. Mum’s and dads and aunties and uncles’ grandads and nans all sit around the beach watching the children just in reach.

Sand castles and ice creams, fizzy drinks, bags of chips to linger on the hips. It’s a day at the beach in the hot roasting sun, nice place to be when the week is done. Rest and relaxation and a bit of fun especially when the shopping is done.

There is no tide no place for to hide, but there are some fairground rides, we travelled not far not even by car, and you will never guess where we are. The beach is not by the sea no cockles and winkles for your tea, the beach isn’t miles away you don’t need a caravan to come and play. For this is a beach on my market square, couldn’t believe it’s was right there, so after shopping it’s onto the fair then the kids build castles and throw sand everywhere, hat on my head I’m on a deckchair, relaxing my body without a care.

© All rights reserved Mark Symmonds 2017


Black safety surfaces highlight the bright colours of the playground with children all around, they climb and run and jump, on metal frames and trains. they imagine they are climbing a mountain to rescue fair maids and gallop away.

Driving a train passenger laden picking up knights and maidens. A large swing hangs like a disc, carries several children on the journey they wish. Slides and roundabouts all to wear the kids out. then comes the ice cream, it cools them down in the mid-day heat, a real treat, strawberry sauce real sweet. Back to their play and imagination all day, dancing and singing and rocking in the sun’s rays. Play in a group or just on their own, there is plenty to do until it’s time to go home.


Little Boy Soldier

Little boy soldier what have they told ya? Kalashnikov on your shoulder, ten or eleven not much older. Did they tell you that you might die and stop you from having a cry and did they tell you the truth about why? It won’t hurt you won’t die and if you do you will be a martyr up in the sky, carrying a gun makes you bolder even though you might not get older.

Why must you die living a lie, no chance to give peace a try. No emotion, no regret, just hardened beliefs kept. Little boy soldier, this gun is no toy it will only kill and destroy men or little boys, it doesn’t care which at the flick of a switch. Running with the boys playing big boys games little boy soldiers a country’s shame

Little boy soldier huge weight on your shoulders, does your mum approve, what have they told her? Where will you go when they come for you? Can you kill them before they get you? Little boy soldier lay down your guns until you are older and can take the burden on your shoulders. Go home to mum while she can still hold ya. Tell her you don’t want to be a little boy soldier marching around with a gun on your shoulder. Never again do you want to see men die, without a tear coming to your eye. Little boy soldier please please cry and ask this cruel world why?