October 18, 2014

 

 

When faced with

life so petrifying,

no tears came;

too late the cry.

 

So cruel this world,

there’s no denying;

no lips could mouth

a last goodbye.

 

 

 

 

 

Too proud they say;

she’ll fall from grace,

and then have egg

left on her face.

 

Too proud is she,

with chin held high,

and nose upturned,

towards the sky.

 

Too proud, maybe

but better that,

when gossips seen

to chew the fat.

 

Too proud, head bowed,

when arrows point.

A moonlight flit;

new life anoint.

 

Too proud, how else

to keep afloat,

when leaving town

on the last boat.

 

 

 

 

 

Hope saw the well with water fill;

enough to last the Fall,

and knew within that moment,

the strength to conquer all.

 

And comfort saw a passing cloud

fast moving overhead,

and knew within that moment,

all bitterness was dead.

 

And faith saw a bless’ed miracle

evolve from outer space,

and knew within that moment,

a future, there to face.

 

 

 

 

 

Oh mirror of the inner soul,

that magnifies life sevenfold,

and holds the secrets there within

away from even next of kin.

 

Oh mirror of the inner soul,

in times of trouble, you console,

and make us what we are today,

by keeping back reflections sway.

 

Oh mirror of the inner soul,

together we will forward stroll,

through truth and lies and alibis,

and sobs and tears and wasted sighs.

 

Oh mirror of the inner soul,

falsehood you never will console.

The blinkered look, the honest stare;

thank god the mirror, always there.

 

 

 

 

Out of making the best

of a time of despair,

came riches untold

when raw love left to share.

 

And though some thought boredom

would surely strike;

none of it, they found,

for they were both alike.

 

And managed quite well

their new situation;

adjusting in no time

without any complication,

 

into an easier routine,

where irony caused fun

and things, once important,

disappeared with the sun.

 

Leaving them to focus

on the bones of the matter,

during walks in the park

and a good in-depth chatter.

 

Having no-one to report to

or actions to explain,

was worth every penny

lost down the drain.

 

For in finding freedom to be

who they wanted to be,

turned into a gift,

from life’s ‘giving tree’,

 

And when stripped bare of assets

they then could see light;

thanking god that the clutter

at last, gone from sight.

 

With possessions all slung out,

along with the dust pan;

clearing the way for a future,

that was never in the plan. 

 

 

 

September 30, 2014

 

 

I saw a dog

sat on a trampoline,

keeping it’s

underbelly clean,

 

and free from damp

and dirt and grime,

basking in the sun

waiting for mealtime.

 

 

 

 

There’s a cottage that will do for you,

that’s become vacant, due to the death,

of elderly spinster Miss Bromsey-Howard,

but when you see it, don’t hold your breath.

 

It’s tucked away at the rear of the pub;

just up the hill, and off to the right.

She never allowed anyone entry,

so prepare yourselves for a mighty fright.

 

The only form of heating you’ll find,

is by way of an ancient cast iron range.

And I advise you to visit in daylight,

as under your feet, will run creatures strange!

 

It’s where American soldiers found shelter,

and survived many a wartime air raid.

And where her mother entertained them lavishly,

whilst Bromsey-Howard was with his brigade!

 

The soldiers supplied ‘smokes’ to the villagers,

and kept the lassies in nylons, so fine.

And some said that Miss Bromsey-Howard,

was born with a yank through her spine!

 

So if you’re looking for a place historical,

and are prepared for many set-backs.

The price should be very agreeable,

if you can live with a good few, wise cracks!

 

 

September 29, 2014

 

 

Their thoughts

quite different,

as they stroll along

in mutual harmony.

No need for words;

each one quite

content with loves

silent rhapsody.

Although their talents clash,

they choose to agree to disagree;

giving space where needed,

as they stroll along

hand in hand,

in disciplined harmony.

 

 

 

September 24, 2014

Whilst listening to

the air so still,

that swirled around,

as if at will,

She heard a buzz

within her head,

and turned, and said,

‘Is that you, Ted?

 

That moment came

through the air so still,

from Ted, a reminder,

to forgetful Lil’,

that it was six weeks,

since he be dead,

and his beloved goldfish,

had not been fed!

 

That prompt, one of many

through the air so still,

(often telling her not

to forget her pill),

proved that the love,

felt by, her faithful Ted,

lived on beyond the grave,

and he was by her bed.

 

 

 

 

As dawn approaches and

the morning noises kick in,

and the body awakens

to the clang, of industrial din.

It is good to know that sleep

befell a cluttered mind,

and after hours of restlessness,

peace, was there to find.

 

Another day, another hope,

another flower to see.

Another prayer said quietly,

that free from grief we be.

As onward goes the fight

to heal the scars of time,

where signs now in evidence,

that we are past our prime.

 

Another day, one day at a time,

caught up in the daily grind.

Then a kettle boiling madly;

a pleasure so defined.

A cup of tea, a mug of tea;

the best start to the day.

Followed by the aroma of bacon,

to set us on our way.

 

 

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