September 19, 2024

 

 

I awoke and wrote in darkness,

the view much clearer than the day.

I’d tossed and turned with mind on fire,

so much not said, I had to say.

 

I wrote and awoke the madness

as moonbeams spurred me on.

I’d loved and yearned with hearts desire,

so much not done, where had time done?

 

I slept and dreamed how different

today could well have been.

I ran and skipped in highest spirit,

so much imagined, in extreme.

 

I dreamed and slept in raptures.

Tomorrow a new dawn to explore.

I gently rode each wave that came.

Oh passion stay, forever more. 

 

 

 

October 4, 2022

 

 

Old memory lane,

with many twists and turns,

and outcomes never meant to be.

 

Where trees gently rustled

as I went with the flow,

along with my friend – serendipity.

 

 

Old memory lane,

my good companion indeed,

who stayed close by, to carry me on.

 

When dark shadows loomed,

and the future uncertain,

held my hand and a new day was won.

 

 

Old memory lane

where I wandered alone,

to places that only I knew.

 

When problems unsolved

and tomorrows looked doomed,

gave me faith, to start life anew.

 

 

Old memory lane,

the unforgotten path,

that takes me way back in time.

 

Though now a steep hill,

but in a crisis, still a safe haven,

and always well worth the climb.

 

 

Old memory lane,

my favourite walk to this day,

where I survived stormy weather.

 

and on days when uncertainty

comes knocking again,

it’s good to know we are still together.

 

 

 

January 10, 2022

 

 

We were intrinsically knitted together,

in a patchwork of loyalty and hope.

Taking on the world and it’s challenges,

exploring with immeasurable scope.

 

We were tightly bonded together,

in a package of paper and string.

Arriving at each destination,

with passports stamped to do anything.

 

We were finally tied by marriage,

when, to each other, we very much appealed.

And, oh what a wise investment,

with a very fine worthwhile yield.

 

We were intrinsically knitted together,

losing an odd stitch along the way.

But the pearls of the sea, and fair isles,

kept us happy, til hair turned quite grey.

 

written by

Harriet Blackbury   January 2022.

 

 

March 15, 2021

 

 

and when I thought all hope was gone,

my watch had stopped at five to one.

 

and then I thought ‘what can I do’,

by which time it was ten past two.

 

I’d lost my mind, which worried me,

until it returned at quarter to three.

 

I showered and dressed, and opened the door,

by which time it was twenty to four.

 

I breathed fresh air, and felt alive,

as the town hall clock struck dead on five.

 

I walked for miles – my mind to fix,

by now it was six minutes past six.

 

I talked to people, it felt like heaven,

then wandered home at half past seven.

 

I took a path, which wasn’t straight,

that got me home just after eight.

 

I cooked some food, and drank some wine,

then read in bed, til well past nine.

 

‘I simply must do this again’,

‘to hell’, I thought, ‘with News at Ten’.

 

written by Harriet Blackbury

 

March 11, 2021

 

 

and people came and fitted in.

A new life willing to begin.

No sea too risky or too deep,

to sap their strength – no time to weep.

 

Each one fighting for their right.

A life of freedom now in sight.

Survivors of life’s cruelest game –

to live in peace, their only aim.

 

 

December 18, 2020

 

 

We traveled the path

to who knows where.

Our troubles behind us,

without a care.

 

And times that we shared

with new comers we met,

on the journey through life,

we will never forget.

 

Like the curved ball that landed

out of the blue,

on a deserted path, when feeling

lost without you.

 

And the shadows that followed,

which we never got to see.

An invisible tap on the shoulder,

from our friend, serendipity.

 

And as each door closed,

and tomorrows were faced,

a whole new chapter began,

as goals and targets were chased.

 

The pace quickening up,

as new empires were built.

Leaving less time for loved ones,

and minds full of guilt.

 

‘Something is coming’,

she often said to me.

‘You can laugh all you want,

but very soon you will see.’

 

And her wisdom we challenged,

her mind to placate.

But she was right all along.

Her second sense was just great.

 

by Harriet Blackbury

 

October 15, 2020

 

 

 

T is for tension

when being face to face.

Month after month

without any space.

 

T is for tantrums

and letting off steam.

And tearing ones hair out

when needing to scream.

 

T is for terraferma

and going back to grass roots.

And ditching the car

in favour of bob hat and boots.

 

T is for targets

so essential indeed.

A mountain of enthusiasm

worth feet that bleed.

 

T is for theories –

no two the same.

Until proven facts

put theories to shame.

 

T is for then

when recalling the past.

How life goes so quickly

yet good moments last.

 

T is for theatre

and movement and dance.

With scenes full of tragedy

and comedy and romance.

 

T is for tinkling

those mesmeric keys.

What magical moments

to put us at ease.

 

T is for turbulence

experienced at sea.

Though conquering high waves

is addictive and free.

 

T is for thinking

too long and too hard.

About a mere nothing

one really should discard.

 

T is for touching

on subjects unwise.

A clumsy indiscretion

has one rolling eyes.

 

T is for toying

with a feeling of unrest.

Stay calm and do nothing

would perhaps be for the best.

 

T is for things –

no matter how small.

The tiniest of gifts

sometimes say it all.

 

T is for treachery

and jealousy and spite.

Which karma in the end

will always put right.

 

T is for touchstones

bringing good luck.

And there to be squeezed

when one comes unstuck.

 

T is for teeth

that chatter in the cold.

But if looked after properly

serve us til we are old.

 

T is for tasteful.

So simple yet smart.

With no hidden extras

here comes my sweetheart.

 

T is for timing

as we all know.

That precious moment lost

finds us knee deep in snow.

 

T is for trust

without it why live?

Tomorrow is a new day

with so much to give.

 

T is for tables

like two times ten.

Taught by repetition

over and over again.

 

T is for television

What did Logie Baird do?

When he invented the box

that we all fight to view.

 

T is for tokens

saved with good intent.

In exchange for loyalty

and money well spent.

 

T is for tomatoes –

upon them we depend.

Packed full of goodness

and always on trend.

 

T is for temptation –

the folly of the unwise.

Too often burnt fingers

cause welled up eyes.

 

T is for Tiresome –

another battle lost.

That second bottle opened

came at great cost.

 

T is for tiny

acorns that grow

into wise oaks

wiser than we all know.

 

T is for thunder

as the heavens let rip.

After lightening had warned us

to just get a grip.

 

T is for typical –

an umbrella forgotten.

When out of nowhere

the weather turns rotten.

 

T is for troubled

as many souls are.

After lingering too long

on that old battle scar.

 

T is for torture –

the last turn of the screw.

The final infidelity

by someone loved true.

 

T is for tenacity

en route to a goal.

Hold tight and be patient

and dreams will unroll.

 

T is for tenderness

and times worth waiting for.

Like the unexpected glimpse

of the one we adore.

 

T is for truth –

so hard to digest.

When facing an onslaught

someone got off their chest.

 

T is for teamwork

and original ideas.

Staying focused the key

to success and cheers.

 

T is for tickled

in all shades of pink.

Recalling wonderful memories

as we sit and think.

 

T is for trappings

and material worth.

Though peace of mind really

the best thing on earth.

 

T is for tears

that we all grieve.

For the love of our life

when, from this world, they leave.

 

T is for timidity –

being anxious and shy.

As another lost opportunity

goes sailing by.

 

T is for trying

something that’s new.

You’ll know in an instant

if indeed it’s for you.

 

T is for testicles –

check them each day.

Any sign of a lump

then get help straight away.

 

T is for thankful

for small mercies gained.

When instructions so difficult

at last are explained.

 

T is for tangerines –

what a start to each day!

Packed with vitamin C

to keep colds at bay.

 

T is for treasure

gathered by default.

Too varied and vast

to sit in any bank vault.

 

T is for triumph –

we live for the day,

when stands full of fans

all watching teams play.

 

T is for tablets

of deep cleansing soap.

To rid us of Covid

and give us all hope.

 

T is for turning

as autumn leaves do.

My favourite of seasons

when out walking with you.

 

T is for tomorrow

and never never land.

That vast ocean of hope

across desert sand.

 

T is for total.

No more or no less.

Enough is enough.

Goodnight, God Bless.

 

written by Harriet Blackbury

 

February 16, 2020

 

 

 

When love, by force, is torn apart,

leaving behind a broken heart,

that even time, can never mend –

an onward journey, without end.

 

When separation, can’t be helped,

and writing, on the wall is spelt,

in letters fading, in the rain,

something must give – too great the strain.

 

When loneliness, darkens the mood,

and life lived out, in solitude.

No future can, be seen ahead,

when misery, controls the head.

 

When injustice, strikes again,

destroying lives, of fellow men.

We stand bewildered, lost in fear,

at the shock of losing, those most dear.

 

When history, itself repeats,

and nothing learned, from past defeats.

A changing world, and yet the same,

again we bow, our heads in shame.

 

When love, by force, is torn apart,

leaving behind, a broken heart,

that even time, can never mend.

This onward journey, must not end.

 

 

January 28, 2020

 

 

How soon is too soon,

when so soon is near?

How fast is too fast,

well, too fast I fear?

 

How high is too high,

when the heart knows such thrills?

How cool is too cool,

when the temperature chills?

 

How sad is too sad,

when feeling bereft?

How low is too low,

when no tears are left?

 

How much is too much,

when too much a sin?

How wrong is too wrong,

when so wrong has to win?

 

How kind is too kind,

when kindness is proffered?

How trite is too trite,

when an apology offered?

 

How lost is too lost,

when a mirage appears?

How daring is too daring,

when faced with ones fears?

 

How rich is too rich,

when pockets are torn?

How lonely is too lonely,

when feeling forlorn?

 

How cute is too cute,

when cuteness not enough?

How chewy is too chewy,

when steak really tough?

 

How funny is too funny,

when tears, fun create?

How sweet is too sweet,

when teeth start to ache?

 

How up is too up,

when hopes riding high?

How stretched is too stretched,

when arms reach the sky?

 

How gone is too gone,

when all gone to seed?

How clean is too clean,

when the last germs still breed?

 

How far is too far,

when so far apart?

How long is too long,

when fast beats the heart?

 

 

January 7, 2020

 

 

 

 

Q is for questions

I asked as a child.

When eager and inquisitive

and driving folks wild.

 

But each question answered

seldom made sense,

as the frown on my forehead,

became more intense.

 

Q is for questions

that children now ask of me.

So direct and disturbing,

taking my mind out to sea.

 

As each question answered

needs time to express,

with such awkward subjects,

I tend not to address.

 

Q is for questions

I have about my i phone.

But with no-one to listen,

I leave the damned thing alone.

 

And with my eyes on the blink,

as each year passes by.

‘Imogee’s’ a no-no,

so I no longer try.

 

Q is for questions

that don’t matter anymore.

A can touch my toes and do the splits,

and that’s good for 94.

 

 

 

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