January 29, 2014

 

 

It’s hard for me to speak,

just as it is for you.

I nurse your heartache

and feel so helpless too.

 

No pearls of wisdom

ever seem right,

at this sorry time

of unforeseen plight.

 

No words of sorrow

can I at this point convey,

without a lump in my throat,

though, for Merlin, I pray.

 

Your hurt runs deep,

your suffering is raw.

No more can you stroke

his soft, gentle paw.

 

So alive was he,

and then within a week,

he rendered us all,

unable to speak.

 

And although you know

you must carry on,

and love those still needy,

left behind, now he is gone..

 

And though your heart is huge,

and there’s a special place,

where Merlin lives on forever,

as his memory you embrace.

 

And in time when your pain

will be easier to bear,

as you sense his presence,

near to his favourite chair.

 

 And just like all the others

who have gone before,

you’ll feel enriched by the knowledge,

he’s laid to rest near your door.

 

But all this doesn’t help you now,

for your tears refuse to dry,

and even when mourning’s complete,

you’ll still ask the question ‘Why’?

 

Merlin didn’t deserve his end,

he’d been full of life at seven,

But God needed him by his side,

so took his soul up to heaven.

 

 

 

 

 

How good it feels to be alive;

to open eyes and see the sky.

And know that through the night I slept,

surviving dreams in which I wept.

 

How good it feels to be on earth;

safe in a place that was my birth.

And be surrounded by those most dear,

surviving sleeps most dreaded fear.

 

 

 

 

Much stronger than any union,

is the good wives establishment.

Behind every successful man, is,

the spine of the family, cast in cement.

 

A solid force, who keeps on giving,

and who’s job gets harder with time.

Who sees off hungry predators,

and desperado’s out of their prime.

 

The good wife, always foreboding,

and the operator of the moat.

The one with the brain to sense danger,

and step in, to rescue the silly old goat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Be silent child.

I am the judge.

My word is law.

I will not budge.

 

Oh teach me child.

Give me a nudge.

In sweet repose,

Bear me no grudge.

 

 

 

 

 

He was a cat who voiced his opinion.

He would screech to show his dismay.

The most bossiest of cats in all the land,

was the one who once came to stay.

 

He patrolled the house like an army major.

He had all our nerves in disarray.

A more disgruntled cat was there never,

than enchantingly gorgeous Mr Dubonnet

 

 

 

 

 

The drive;

The determination,

to succeed when so

near to the brink.

 

The laugh;

The satisfaction,

in being more intuitive

than they think.

 

 

 

 

The best way to spread a secret,

is to entrust it to just one,

who in turn will tell another,

who will then pass it on to someone.

 

As it travels it gathers momentum,

becoming far fetched and out of control,

and before you know it, it’s world news,

but will have lost it’s original soul.

 

 

 

 

With no lapses in time,

or thoughts, a chance to gather,

decisions were made,

which got them into a lather.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They dangle and they tantalise,

and sparkle as we fantasise.

But when night-time falls we realise,

our dreams may never crystallise.

 

For in this game of lows and highs,

we are no longer taken, by surprise.

We must trust that only sense applies,

and truth will come without compromise.

 

 

January 22, 2014

 

 

Hesitation; the enemy of impulse,

as one can surely find to their cost.

Holding back at the vital moment

can mean that all is but lost.

 

Yet to charge along on a runaway train

can be a life changing hairy ride,

if a second thought has not been given,

to the consequences or the downside.

 

The trick is getting the balance right, by

asking impulse and hesitation to compromise.

It’s as delicate a decision as you’ll ever make,

but well worth the energy to realise.

 

 

Newer Posts »