June 28, 2014

 

 

 

and now, for now, all exits blocked from view:

Yet forward goes the one who dared to look,

for maybe always lying in the subconscious,

was that something else, others had mistook,

 

to mean the opposite of what was apparent;

a fool indeed who thinks his friends are foes.

The end and yet another new beginning;

foundations laid, where plainly nothing shows.

 

And all the time when searching, never ending;

when finally one settles in deep repose.

It’s then, relaxed and accepting of the future,

one sees that life, with joy,  just overflows.

 

And tomorrow’s dreams are merely crutches,

to aid the walk ahead, too steep to bear.

And that the facts already laid before them,

were obvious, to one who dared to stare.

 

 

June 8, 2014

 

 

 

 

Those feet that trod

the steepest hill,

and conquered Everest

with time to kill,

 

are those same feet

that started life,

repaired at birth

by the surgeons knife.

 

Those feet that trod

the great incline,

pushed on by strength

within a determined mind,

 

are those same feet

that beat the odds,

and won the race

and reached the gods.

 

Those feet not ever

meant to go,

crossed the line in style

for the victor’s show.

 

Proving all is possible;

hope overcoming doubt,

even if little chance given

when first stepping out.

 

 

 

 

 

June 5, 2014

 

 

Whilst dusting the corners of her mind,

amongst the debris lost with time,

she came across an abandoned wish;

a forgotten plea, based on pure anguish.

 

And how she thanked the powers that be,

who crushed that dream, never meant to be.

So ill thought out when straws were clutched,

and the edge of insanity, almost touched.

 

For in the intervening years between,

grew a life well lived, from a shattered dream,

and countless blessings and guidance shown

towards a path of happiness she now did own.

 

And the longing yearned for, it was clear to see

would have been the certain death of she.

And oh the mess, had it come of age;

that wish never granted, by a wiser sage.

 

 

April 10, 2014

 

 

In each bud a secret;

a life of hidden power.

In each second savoured;

another fulfilled hour.

 

In each wish, a yearning

for a recreated past unchanged.

In each dream, a voyage

and a mind left disarranged.

 

 

March 28, 2014

 

 

No joy in dwelling on the past,

of battles won, fortunes amassed.

The gain, not worth the mental strain,

and all for what, hindsight’s refrain?

 

That generation who discovered wealth

yet would not spend in case ill health

came fast like lightning to their door,

knew an instant remedy they had in store.

 

or so they thought; money the cure for all!

Remember Damascus where Saul met Paul.

Yet with blinkered faith they still wanted more,

becoming mesmerised with their golden store.

 

And where overwork and excessive strain,

in time, took it’s toll, on the smartest brain.

No isolated palaces with marble towers

can ever fix the sick in their dying hours.

 

 

 

 

The rippling shoreline

on an abandoned beach

as night time falls;

the sun out of reach.

 

A severed tongue

no words could teach.

The shock too great

for an acceptance speech.

 

The sea comes in and bashes

the crumbling seawall,

with its violent temper

in a free for all.

 

And words, too late

came as if they cared,

but above seagull squawks

could not be heard.

 

And another day

that with promise held

came and went without

a timid voice yelled.

 

But what they say

of time and tide is true,

and there’s a new horizon

always on view.

 

 

 

February 28, 2014

 

 

Her nail-bed repairing;

nail varnish she’s wearing,

and now for the right reasons,

folks at her hands staring.

 

 

 

 

February 19, 2014

 

 

How refreshing is ‘dry’ January,

with no sluggish starts to the day,

as we recover from the party season

by keeping excess at bay.

 

The body begins to repair itself,

and the bloated look leaves our cheeks,

now the wine that seemed so essential,

is out of sight for four weeks.

 

And for a time, only still water,

flowing fast through each vein.

No dreaded trips to the bottle bank

and being caught in the pouring rain.

 

A chance to reflect in all seriousness,

what the lack of consumption makes,

to our mood and general demeanour;

no ‘morning after’ headaches or shakes.

 

And although February starts off cautiously,

with good intent to stay dry and have none

all too soon arrives good old Valentines Day,

when glasses clink and the game is back on. 

 

 

 

 

 

February 16, 2014

 

 

When in a confused frame of mind

where no solution is there to find,

and all the options on hope rest,

don’t ever settle for second best.

 

 

 

The power of proof;

the coming clean.

The attacking force

of the rogue gene.

 

 

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