The Withered Rose














The Withered Rose

I’m old and I’m withered

I’m at the end of my time

But I used to bloom

Away back in my prime.

My petals so pretty

People used to admire

I was the rose

That grew on the briar.

The wind and rain

Replace the warm summer sun

Soon all my petals will fall

Every curled last one.


Copyright © IanmAllan 2018



Upon the Cold Street

Outside the Houses of Parliament

Lies the body of a man so cold

With no future in sight

He slept on the pavement each night

Hopefully his story will be told.


Bunches of flowers lay where he lay

Propped up by the old wall

Ignored by politicians and passers-by

This man was sure to die

Knowing that this shouldn’t happen at all.


As he lay in the cold winter wind

He froze as he took his last breath

In the morning he was found there

But too late for warmth and care

Another Tory victim’s sad death.








Inside the Houses of Parliament

Ignorance is not deemed to be a crime

But instead of working to save

They are digging each grave

For the homeless to dwell in for all time.


Copyright © IanmAllan 2018

The Only Reason

I wrote this poem after my hospital ambulance tried to collect me from an address which wasn’t my address to take me to a hospital appointment !

A Ambulance Telephonist  M Me

A   “Your transport today has been cancelled
Because you weren’t where we went
To take you to your therapy
In the transport that we sent”.

M   You were told I wasn’t there
And you were surprised to hear
That the reason I’m not there
Is only because I’m here.

A   “It’s a stipulation of travel
That you must be where we say
Even if you are not there
At any time of day.”

A   “If you’re not there to collect you
We will abort the call
Even if you are not there
Or never were at all.”

M   You were told I wasn’t there
And you were surprised to hear
That the reason I’m not there
Is only because I’m here.

The Wheelchair Rose & Crown

Old Jimmy was in a wheelchair

And as he was an inventive man

He had an idea which appealed to him

So he formulated his plan.


He set about in his garage

Converting it into his workshop

In which he created his masterpiece

His creativity did not stop.


Suddenly a van pulled up

Completely out of the blue

Delivering an Oxyacetylene Welding Kit

(And that wasn’t for the Bar-B-Q).


First he fixed the bracket

To support the strengthened base

Then he fitted pipes and tubes

Wherever he could find the space.


Everything was carefully measured

Even the pressure guage

But nobody knew what Jimmy was building

It was all hush hush at this stage.


All they saw were pipes and tubes

and a cylinder of Co2

Disappearing into his workshop

– That was all they knew.


Jimmy worked away for hours

While his neighbours kept an eye

But they knew that something was up

When a beer lorry stopped by.


For the Draymen unloaded the barrels

And other Brewery parts

Two hours later they staggered out

Completely pissed as farts!!


But old Jimmy was still busy

And he stayed in his workshop all night

No matter how many people were watching

Jimmy remained out of sight.


The following morning word went round

That old Jimmy’s work was done

And people had started gathering

Since the rising of the sun.


Suddenly the workshop door opened

And there was a deafening cheer

As old Jimmy appeared driving his wheelchair

While pouring himself a beer!!


For he had a keg of Bitter

Strapped onto the strengthened base

With a Co2 cylinder and cooling unit

Even the glasses had a place.


He is now doing three miles per gallon

In his specially adapted wheelchair

And he is probably pissed as a fart

And could turn up anywhere.


Nobody knows if it technically legal

And the Authorities may frown

But it’s all cheer and high spirits

On the Wheelchair Rose & Crown.


NHS in Crisis

Tories taking greed to a whole new level

While children go hungry and cry

Patients so ill in hospital corridors

People want to know why.


Tories dismiss this as scaremongering

An act of the extreme Left

No thoughts of care or compassion

Leaving their victims bereft.




We’re one on the richest countries

No excuse for child malnutrition

People are suffering severely

Government shows no signs of contrition.


As long as the rich earn their profit

Stories so cruel we will share

We will stay strong and together

And acknowledge that Tories don’t care.


Copyright © IanmAllan 2018


Bridging the Gap

A Channel Bridge is the latest folly

As mad as HS2

Stupid ideas we cannot afford

To be paid for by me and you.


To be paid for by the many

And only used by the few

Is the logic of the Tories

No matter what they do.



“There is no chaos in the corridors”

The Tories say of the NHS

But the body count is piling up

A Catastrophic Mess !


We want the UK to Prosper

UK is yours and mine

And the Tories can and go and stick

Where the sun is not going to shine !


Copyright © IanmAllan 2018


500 Doctors

500 Doctors gone skiing
That is the reason, I’m told
For the Crisis in our hospitals
No room for the sick and the old.

500 Doctors gone skiing
They’re on the slippery slope
Blamed by the Tories in power
The reason the NHS cannot cope.

Nothing to do with underfunding
Tories don’t want to take the blame
But corridors piled up with patients
It is a National Shame.

Nearer than the ski slopes of Val d’Isere
Our NHS is sliding downhill
Purely the fault of the Tories
Who refuse to look after the ill.

Copyright  © IanmAllan 2018


The 120K

The Tory Party gets worse by the day

They are responsible for the 120K.

The 120K, the number of deaths

Of those who took their last breaths

After being declared to be work fit

Although wheezing and dying and could only sit

While being asked to walk the length of a bus

Highlights the difference between them and us.

Not for us the never-ending greed

Of those who disrespect those in need

And forget about those who sleep in doorways

A common scene in UK nowadays.

Destitution and Poverty become the norm

With the ruling elite true to form

But please remember all these horror stories

Brought to live by the Tories

But whatever we think, do or say

We must never forget the 120K.


Copyright © IanmAllan 2017


The Margate Santa


It was Christmas Eve in Margate

Through the crowds of shoppers he fought

The Christmas lights

Were all twinkling bright

And Santa had lost the plot.


The shelves were all bulging with gifts

So many Santa’s stockings and sacks

But with a stocking instead

He put over his head

And he robbed the Halifax.


The Christmas lights were all twinkling blue

And police sirens filled the air

They searched so late

All over Margate

But they couldn’t find Santa – anywhere.


It was then that they hit on the problem

There were too many Santas around

A police helicopter above

“We’ll get him Guv’ !”

And squad cars upon the ground.


For they were searching for the real Santa

The one who had robbed the bank

In a red Santa suit

And pickled to boot

Who dribbled his beer when he drank


They arrested all the Santas in Margate

In every shop and store

But every time they got close

The real Santa arose

And quickly buggered off – next door.


They tried everything they could

In order to track him down

The bookies and pubs

The shops and the clubs

In every part of the town.


All of a sudden there was a breakthrough

Followed by a rousing cheer

But Santa they missed

For although he was pissed

“He’s buggered off. He’s not here!!”


They never found the real Santa

Even when they searched every part

Santa, reindeer and sleigh

They staggered away

For Santa was pissed as a fart.


The sleigh flew off into the night sky

Not a sound, not ever a breath

The chimney pots it missed

Even although Santa was pissed

And hanging on for grim death.


So if you ever saw Santa Claus

With his sleigh full of sacks

It wasn’t presents on board

As through the Heavens it soared

But dosh he’d nicked from the Halifax!!



Copyright © Ian m Allan 2017