| T'Arwoods |
| Here are just a couple of my poems, my husband, Jim Harwood, is a far better writer. |
| Unwritten. Listen... Hear anything? No click-clacking of overworked fingers on keyboard letters, no scratching of ink on paper. No pages tearing, no mouth swearing, no sound of mind ticking over. No papers cluttered, no words uttered (or muttered) or stuttered in the nervousness of the spotlight and pub fights. No poetic dreams, or rhyming schemes to be thrown into the air for discussion. There! There they hang, and out of the confusion... Bang! The poem is written. But there is nothing... Only silence. Pen rests on desktop - dumb, red, raw fingers - numb. Mind and body (and pint glass) emptied. A Harwood 2001 |
| Oh Joy! A weekend shop has become exactly that, like a twin buggy gives them the right to chat! And if I hear the words "double trouble" once more... as I struggle alone through every shop door. No! I won't be dressing them the same, notice, different person, different name. How can they be i dentical? It's a girl and a boy and stop telling me they're twice as much joy. Twice as much washing, even less sleep, two lots of nappies and they don't come cheap! Twice as many bottle to clean and make up, two screaming voices every time I wake up! Too many early mornings and too much coffee... but as I look in their cots, what do I see? Four blue eyes like the summer sky, make up for every time they cry. Twice as many giggle, gurgles and coos, two little hats and four little shoes. Two loving smiles and twenty little toes, how they got so perfect, God only knows! At the end of the day, when all's said and done, there's twice as much laughter and twice as much fun. A Harwood. 2005 |
 |
| "Fireworks" by Jasmine Harwood. 2 yrs |
 |
   |
![[Trivia]](http://us.yimg.com/i/ligans/cb/smtriv.gif) |