February 19, 2014

 

 

 

 

In the year before he came;

her life unchallenged, without aim.

No wish had she to be tied down.

She was content to paint the town.

 

In the year before he came,

she ran wild and reckless without shame.

No responsibility was she looking for.

Her feet free to dance the floor.

 

In the year before he came,

her life fell apart; she was to blame.

She reached an all time low;

only days of heartache did she know.

 

In the year before he came,

she saw his face, and heard his name.

But never for a moment thought,

that by the love-bug she’d get caught.

 

In the year before he came,

she played and lost a dangerous game.

In the wings he waited to hold her hand,

and never judging, took command.

 

In the year before he came,

when life could never be the same,

he picked up the pieces of her heart,

and nevermore were they to part.

 

 

 

 

February 16, 2014

 

 

When in a confused frame of mind

where no solution is there to find,

and all the options on hope rest,

don’t ever settle for second best.

 

 

 

To wake from rest, only to find

that you still have a troubled mind

and the dull pain from the day before,

kicks in before you touch the floor.

 

And the problem that disturbed your slumber,

even when sheep you counted in great number,

has returned to challenge your point of view,

when under clouds you sit, awaiting skies of blue.

 

And when all decisions rest upon your action,

as others form queues for your reaction

to a problem that was never yours

but has been offloaded inside your doors.

 

Then to return to bed at the end of the day

with little accomplished, the mind in affray.

and without any ‘me’ time to flourish and grow,

can leave one disheartened, dismayed and low.

 

 

 

 

 

I’d turn it round

without compromise,

but the choice is yours

as you supervise.

 

I’d make it less

as it’s too large,

but it’s not up to me,

as you’re in charge.

 

I’d throw it out.

It’s been a flop,

but I’m not the one

who runs the shop.

 

I’d cut it up

into pieces fine,

but you’re the one

who has to shine.

 

In truth, I couldn’t

give a toss.

It’s on your head.

You are the boss.

 

 

 

 

The power of proof;

the coming clean.

The attacking force

of the rogue gene.

 

 

 

 

And in the hour before day break

when only pigeons are awake,

and cooing as if high on pot;

you wish the blighters could be shot.

 

True, they have as much right to be alive,

as all creatures, that through night, survive.

And if their ‘joy of life’ could be put in a bottle,

you’d feel less inclined, their throats to throttle

 

And though toilet habits leave a lot to be desired;

they’d wreck in no time, a building they acquired.

It’s not that I hate them, or think them a sin.

I just wish that now and then, they’d have a lie-in!

 

 

 

 

 

What hope of justice?

when a silent tongue

keeps buried the past;

the pain to prolong.

 

Then to speak the truth

and not be believed;

the injured party

once more aggrieved.

 

Too late, some say.

Others say, never too late.

The debate goes on

to decide their fate.

 

 

 

 

I see his point.

I hear his plea.

Too late, alas

for me to move the sea.

 

I know it was right

what he instilled in me.

Sometimes the mighty truth

takes a lifetime to see.

 

 

 

 

 

Why is a lie-detector

on a television show

acceptable evidence

and a convincing blow?

 

Yet it isn’t recognised

within a court of law,

where wrong decisions

can at reputations, claw.

 

 

 

February 13, 2014

 

 

And on the way

to Jericho

a sharp pain struck;

a hammer blow.

 

A memory, long

since forgotten;

blocked out with time,

that life begotten.

 

A revisited path,

that many trod,

on their way to deliver

a gift from God.

 

And on that ground

so regulated;

so steeped in love;

so consecrated.

 

Where life and death

hung in despair;

another safe arrival

by gas and air.

 

In equal measure,

a double edged sword,

for in no time at all;

a ‘for sale’ board.

 

And on the way back

from Jericho,

only depths of sorrow

was there to know.

 

 

 

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