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August 11, 2014

 

How precious is

the gift of time;

to awaken and know

the day is mine,

to do with as

I choose to dare,

to explore the wonders

that life lays bare.

 

How precious is

the gift of time;

in equal measure,

both mine and thine,

to use for free

whilst it is there,

for not a second

is there to spare.

 

 

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August 7, 2014

 

 

 

If only she could

see me now;

the one who pushed

me up yon brow.

 

Who I suckled free,

when mealtimes due,

from mother nature’s

potent brew.

 

Who gave me hope

through word and song,

and always taught me,

right from wrong.

 

Who saw in me,

my greatest strength,

and urging, went to

any length,

 

in her role of

unconditional support,

never backing away,

from a hasty retort,

 

that came, at times,

when sensitivity lacking;

she took it all, and still

gave full backing.

 

Though, alone in tears,

she would sit and wonder,

what had gone so wrong,

when she was cast asunder.

 

Yet, always returning

with both fists clinching;

accepting of her lot,

without ever flinching..

 

Through my ups and downs,

my lows and highs,

she loved me like no other,

without compromise.

 

And who, in later life,

whilst in sad decline,

still said ‘You’re round the bend,

sweet child of mine!’

 

And me, by then,

old enough to be a Gran!

Her words so insane,

if heard, by fellow man.

 

But she’d never leave me;

she made that clear,

that in death too,

she’d be always near.

 

And true to her word,

she’s never far away.

Her presence I feel,

at some part of each day.

 

The one who held

me to her breast,

and gave me life,

and knew me best,

 

may not be here

in human form,

but still keeps me calm,

and away from harm.

 

And tortured still am I,

to this very day,

for the times I kept

her love at bay.

 

in my quest for freedom;

my only goal.

Such impulsiveness,

beyond control,

 

which seems so futile now

I can please myself,

and my travelling boots

never on the shelf.

 

But it’s much easier now

to enjoy the view,

for where I choose to go,

she comes with me too.

 

And the one who pushed

me up yon brow,

forever on my shoulder,

for it’s my turn now,

 

to feel her warm embrace

and keep her memory near.

Until such time she feels

it’s time to disappear.

 

And when that time comes

I’ll know how she felt,

when I found her praying;

on her knees she knelt.

 

For she saw in me, herself,

as the pressure piled.

That’s how she knew too well,

her child, to be quite wild!

 

All too late, alas,

these things come to pass.

But closer now, than ever,

this mother and her lass.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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August 5, 2014

 

 

Percoughalees found himself

on Rodney Bay,

where he met a dog

who was a stray.

 

They strolled together

for a while;

maybe perhaps as far,

as half a mile.

 

Until he met a girl,

who was an easy lay,

and the dog, disgusted,

went on his way.

 

 

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And in the heat of

such a storm,

words spat out

in bitter form.

 

Not meant, nor true

and just like speed,

gather momentum

as hot air free’d.

 

And then the calm

that surely follows,

when swifts arrive

and dance with swallows,

 

to lighten the moment

and distract the mind,

making nonsense of the past

now left well behind.

 

And as the streets

dry out from the rain,

gone is the anguish

one can’t explain,

 

that in the heat,

of such a storm,

built up and bubbled

in grotesque form.

 

 

 

 

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A late developer;

a timid bud,

who, from inception,

was misunderstood.

 

A silent craver;

a ‘stick in the mud’.

No joy was there

when they drew his blood.

 

A late developer;

a former runt.

But the litter’s smallest

soon would win the hunt.

 

 

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A little nudge;

a word in the ear;

from a well meaning friend

or a concerned peer,

 

can oddly, sometimes

a button click,

when reality’s burden,

plays a blindfold trick.

 

 

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July 27, 2014

 

 

Rescue him,

by all means do.

Give him food and shelter

to start life anew.

 

But in your quest

for his safe protection,

don’t mistake entrapment

for affection.

 

Never tether him for

he needs his space,

to romp and graze

and run and race.

 

He’ll need to be clipped

from time to time,

to free his coat

of dirt and grime.

 

And a pedicure

won’t go amiss,

and an ear inspection

along with this.

 

Rescue him,

by all means do,

but food and drink alone,

won’t get him through.

 

And to limit his lust

in a free for all;

the price of castration,

very small.

 

Unwanted litters

more heartache make.

Prevention a cure,

for goodness sake!

 

Also have him trained

and in time you’ll find,

he’ll forget the anguish

in his mind.

 

And the rotten start

that he endured,

will be gone at last,

as he feels reassured.

 

Rescue him,

by all means do,

but remember he needs

his freedom too.

 

He won’t stray far

from your side,

once the bond is built,

and trust onside.

 

Your pal for life,

he’ll want to be.

Tenfold he’ll return

the love, shown to he.

 

‘Better than humans’,

old sages say,

when no other love

has come their way.

 

And there’s truth in that

when a match is found.

So go find yourself

a scraggy hound.

 

Rescue him,

by all means do,

but let sense prevail

or he’ll still feel blue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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July 20, 2014

 

 

Pause for awhile.

Let your thoughts

branch off at the

next roundabout.

Escape briefly

into the unknown.

except, there is no unknown.

Only familiar ground,

constantly coming around.

 

It’s just a trick

that the mind plays

with ones emotions;

a calming balm,

a soothing lotion.

There’ll always be

a next roundabout.

Whether to take it or not,

well, that choice is yours alone.

 

 

 

 

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The busy swan,

in nesting mode,

in detail makes

a new abode,

 

for this seasons

offsprings, newly laid,

until her patience

is repaid,

 

when her pride and joy

arrive as planned,

with her Cob close by

to lend a hand.

 

 

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In times of hardship

you were there;

a constant in my set.

Re-assuring and cajoling,

and to you I am in debt.

 

In times of heartache

you were there;

the first to hold my hand.

Re-affirming and supporting,

without question or demand.

 

 

 

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