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April 23, 2016
A Legend’s Legend;
no greater respect,
bestowed on this artist,
who had such an effect
on the world of music;
far too early the pain,
as we mourn his loss –
on our lips – Purple Rain.
A musician, a singer.
A writer renown.
The artist formally known as Prince,
has now won the King’s crown.
Nothing compares 2 U, or ever will.
November 2, 2015
The stillness so deafening
as I sat in your room.
Your guitar quiet in the corner,
No drums going boom-boom.
I saw a sock on the floor
underneath the radiator.
The one that you told me
you’d look for later.
I saw my face in your mirror,
I wanted to smash the glass.
I wanted the world to end
and this madness to pass.
I heard your clock ticking
without rhythm or rhyme.
It mattered not, now,
no-one home at meal-time.
The centre of my universe gone;
the whole core of my being.
The blind panic that struck
now no sense I was seeing.
I wanted to lash out.
I kicked your football.
It bounced down the stairs,
and rolled into the hall.
This nightmare too crazy,
I wanted to scream,
And make everything right,
and awake from this dream.
I saw your dressing gown hung
on the back of the door.
And three pairs of your trainers,
neatly lined up on the floor.
Your room already a shrine;
I couldn’t take it anymore.
Nothing would ever again,
be like it was before.
I slept in your room
for many weeks after.
I awoke in the night
to the sound of your laughter.
And as time went by
I slowly learnt how to cope.
I met others in the same situation,
who gave me some hope.
I now feel so grateful
for every day spent with you,
and I celebrate your life,
the way that you’d want me to.
Sometimes I feel we are closer
than when you were alive.
It’s the way I get through.
It’s the way I survive.
God Bless you Darling.
November 1, 2015
Oh war that took
our love away,
to a distant land
where dangers lay.
Please keep him safe
for he took our heart
as a parting gift,
when he did depart.
Oh war that took
our love to sea,
where a twist of fate
his destiny.
Ten fathoms deep
his submarine,
when the enemy on
the horizon seen.
Oh war that tore
our world apart,
though so much promised
at the start.
And yes, we know
the war, we won,
but it took from us,
our precious son.
Through skies of hope
the journey starts,
amidst falling bombs
as quick as darts.
Where plane after plane,
to heaven ascend,
leaving broken hearts
that never mend.
Into Angel’s arms
so many flew,
with a sense of duty
only they knew.
And a sense of hope
over-riding fear.
The cost of life,
so very dear.
August 19, 2015
I wept and then I stopped
and wept no more.
No thought for what the
future had in store.
Where signs – what signs?
No clues were there in sight!
So blindly treading, crazily barefoot,
I reached the cliff not long
after midnight,
And for a moment thought
that I might stay.
til sense prevailed
and took me on my way.
I wept and then I stopped
and wept no more.
I sensed the waters ebb
at the seashore.
Where beach – what beach?
No sand was there in sight!
Just harsh shale underfoot,
that glinted back, defiant
at moonlight,
and called me down to where
the flotsam lay,
amongst the tangled seaweed,
near to a polystyrene tray
containing fast-food supper remains,
where seagulls gathered squawking
– half out of their brains.
I wept and then I stopped
and wept no more.
The sea, now not an option
to explore.
Where Ship – what ship?
No ship was there in sight.
With Tilbury long forgotten,
it was heading out to sea,
alas, with one seaman light!
As never destined back was I;
my life now, not worth a dime.
The waiting gallows beckoned,
and I must pay my crime.
To her that is forever
part of thee.
The loveliest flower this world
did ever see.
The one who came;
the one not meant to be.
The gift of love
that caused insanity.
To her that is forever
on the mind.
More so now, than ever,
one does find.
The one condemned
to die before her time.
The chance one takes;
this mountain one must climb.
To her that is forever
out of sight.
No happiness has found,
as was her right.
The one who happened
as if, by God’s will,
stays cherished in the heart,
and in the memory still.
To her that is forever
now unreal.
A figment of the past;
a fair done deal?
That ran it’s course
as these things often do.
Until the next world,
one must say ‘adieu’
To her that is forever
by ones side;
not in the way as planned,
but the heavens opened wide,
and welcomed home
two hearts that were as one.
No earthly solace found,
but now all suffering gone.
July 7, 2015
People scurrying for the Tube,
during a working day.
Going about their business,
in their normal kind of way
Rich and poor alike they weaved,
through the bowels of the city.
Never knowing their fate that day;
Oh, God, it was a pity.
Innocent folks from far and wide;
it could have been you or me.
But we cannot walk on eggshells,
nor into the minds of killers, see.
To read about it in the papers,
brought sadness to our souls.
And to happen so soon after ‘Live 8’,
hampered our world peace goals.
We went from ecstasy into agony,
as we celebrated our Olympic bid.
It brought us back to reality,
Of terror – will we ever be rid ?
But those precious family members,
lost on the bus and the Underground
will never be forgotten,
whilst there’s so much love still around.
May 10, 2015
So still the blades of
grass on Springside,
that welcomed home
at close of day,
the one reliable
in his routine,
who came and went
with easy sway.
So watchful in
anticipation;
the blades of grass
searched with intent.
But now sit so lonely,
and respectful;
missing familiar steps
that came and went.
So still the blades of
grass on Springside,
now it’s sunk in
they’ll never hear
the engine stopping,
the car door shutting,
as raindrops, for each,
produce a tear.
So sad, the blades of
grass on Springside,
for they feel too,
their time is nigh.
They know that sound;
it’s all too familiar,
as the lawn mower
comes ever closer by!
April 26, 2015
No fortune favoured
those most brave,
who gave their all,
for an early grave.
So young, so willing
to die, if needs be,
in order to keep
this great country free.
Today we remember
a century ago,
those who were lost,
those who we loved so.
War never the answer,
if talks there can be,
but when talking fails,
no option to see.
We give thanks for each man;
someone’s father and son,
and uncle and brother;
through them, life goes on.
And we celebrate today,
in time honoured tradition,
those who brought us great hope,
yet ended in perdition.