August 5, 2014

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

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.

 

 

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!

 

 

 

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