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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

To give of love

and nothing more,

is sometimes

not enough.

 

To do what one

is asked to do,

can be a

double bluff.

 

To give of time

and feel a bore,

is sometimes

really rough.

 

To do what just

comes naturally,

proves one is made

of stronger stuff!

 

 

 

 

And with a hint

of white or grey,

but always keeping

red at bay,

 

she teamed with black,

her natural choice,

and only shade to make

her heart rejoice.

 

Though on the shelf

where pink stood out,

and caught her eye,

but left much doubt,

 

she sighed, resigned,

to what she knew,

that black her belt

and black her shoe!

 

And with lime green,

the shade of the season,

her mind, it wrestled

without reason.

 

And amber tones

of yellowy yuk,

were surely made,

but for a duck,

 

And bloody beige,

so non descript;

as safe as houses,

for those tight lipped,

 

But not for her,

that neutral shade;

as bare as flesh,

no statement made!

 

For dressed in black

when on parade;

no other choice,

was there displayed,

 

for elegance

or smart attire,

that would ever set

the world on fire.

 

And so safe, so assured

in monochrome,

when travelling in style,

to Paris or Rome.

 

With a touch of white,

if one may dare,

born out of desperation

and despair.

 

Just for a change,

to brighter be,

for the times when black

even got to she!

 

 

 

And in the building

of your dream,

even the purest water

from the stream

 

will never quench,

the thirst for perfection,

in their evolving world

of fast track rejection.

 

For to make the home

a fortress strong,

when freedom calls,

is isolation, to prolong,

 

and can catastrophic

ends, lead to,

when all that’s left

is just her and you.

 

And before you know it,

almost in front of your eyes,

that dream of perfection gone,

as you yearn to downsize!

 

For in role reversal,

they now build their own dream,

whilst you explore the world,

with the snowbird team!

 

 

 

 

 

A moment touched,

too hot to handle.

When the only light,

a fading candle.

 

The room so cold

icicles hung inside

the window, revealing

condensation’s pride.

 

Then the nightly horror

when darkness fell;

the creaking floor boards,

the haunting yell.

 

The closet door latch,

depressed, on it’s own.

The thunderous heartbeat,

of being left all alone.

 

The collapse of soot from

the chimney breast,

caused by a mummified fledgling,

blown from it’s place of rest.

 

The retreat under the blanket

to await his fate.

The long journey

to hell, to anticipate.

 

But hell never reached

for sleep surely came,

as each night before,

and ones that followed, the same.

 

Until he eventually moved out

when the house was condemned.

And gone forever, the nightmares,

he thought, would never end.

 

 

 

 

 

They thought it fun

to partake of wine;

to laugh and frolic

and intertwine,

 

in the summer months

of bright sunshine,

never knowing the art

of when to draw the line.

 

They also thought it cool

to ‘go man go’

and be out, half naked

in winter’s freezing snow,

 

but in their dotage,

sense, they came to know.

Tho’ still their hearts said yes,

their bodies said ‘oh no!’

 

 

 

 

 

 

July 1, 2014

 

 

You waved goodbye

and crossed the lane,

and waved again;

I felt your pain.

 

I found it hard

to close the door,

in case you waved

again once more.

 

And that you did;

I thought you might.

You waved at the corner,

and were gone from sight.

 

Your wave stayed with me,

for the rest of the day;

the heartache you suffered

clearly on display.

 

Oh the power of a wave,

when a wave is returned;

it brings a lump to the throat,

and leaves a tummy churned.

 

And what bond of friendship

is always there,

that starts off with a wave,

that says ‘I care’.

 

 

 

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.

 

 

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