October 27, 2013

 

 

It is a forgone conclusion-

the answer is plain to see.

The branch always threatens to snap,

the higher one climbs up the tree.

 

 

 

 

Behind enthusiasm

sits practicality,

and the realisation the job

cannot be done alone.

 

Alongside endeavour

sits satisfaction,

when out of nothing,

something has grown.

 

 

 

 

 

She ached for her when she was one,

and from her side, by then, had gone.

 

She bled for her when she was two,

and prayed that she had made it through.

 

She longed for her when she was three,

and didn’t have her by her knee.

 

She thought of her when she was four,

like every year that had gone before.

 

All she could do by the time she was five,

was hope that God had kept her alive.

 

She knew that by her age of six,

no long term heartache could she fix.

 

When she was seven, she thought of her-

another year without her there.

 

And when, next summer, she was eight,

her heart with love, still carried weight.

 

She wondered then, when she was nine,

if she was happy and doing fine.

 

When she was ten, she was at a loss all day-

A decade since she went away.

 

The pattern, the same, with lamented pain,

as each year came around again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Deep excavation

is confined,

due to lack of tools

and an idle mind.

 

No explanation

of work declined,

or excuses believed

from one who is blind.

 

Deep exploration

of the mind,

is too big a price-

as truth, we might find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When loves first harvest they were reaping

and tender heartbeats started leaping,

little did they know what memories

would always be theirs for the keeping.

 

Now only silent tears come creeping,

caused by internal weeping.

A sudden thought of times gone by,

when side by side, they were sleeping.

 

 

 

October 18, 2013

 

 

Fetch me some anemones Nellie,

from the Friday market today.

And if you can spot any gladioli’s,

two bunches of those, would be ok.

Oh, and if you’ve time, you could

stop off at the butchers stall,

and get me a shoulder joint-

We’ve got Fanny coming tomorrow,

with her husband, Ignatius

from St Patricks Point.

 

 

 

 

A lonesome pilchard

that I once knew.

had been abandoned

and was feeling blue.

 

He had slipped through the

net, of a tempestuous trawl,

and back into deep waters

he did fall.

 

But that lonesome pilchard

was unaffected,

and never for a moment

did he feel rejected.

 

He became founder member

of the ‘Wet Fish Pound’,

that rescued brothers

who had gone aground.

 

He grew in statue,

and would go to any length,

to save his comrades

who were lacking strength.

 

From that lonesome pilchard,

a lesson we can learn.

‘Sometimes it pays to be outcast

and to a new future, turn.

 

 

October 15, 2013

 

 

Close tightly your eyes,

shut out the light.

Be free awhile from

endless fight.

 

Lay rose petals

upon your bed.

A pillow of lavender

under your head.

 

A book by the side,

many times read.

Dreams of tomorrow,

on rest, be fed.

 

 

 

 

 

Elements of gentleness,

touches and caresses.

Symbols of togetherness

held firm through all life’s stresses.

 

Years of solid unity,

as onward time progresses.

Wobbles cured and blips erased,

as each, their error, confesses.

 

Memories of bygone days

when she had long tresses,

and she was always ‘up for it’,

never any ‘will she – won’t she’, guesses.

 

Through it all they stood the test,

but now when she undresses,

she makes sure that the light is out,

though true love, still professes.

 

 

 

 

 

What good would it do

to enter a sphere,

to invade a space,

to interfere?

 

Whoever would attempt

to get too near,

to invade a world,

to maliciously appear?

 

Why would one lose

what one holds dear,

without a fight, and a

strong word in an ear.

 

 

 

 

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