
Neath shady branches sits
a coffin carved from cold
grey granite garnished
with a softening mass
of fragrant mosses fair
as if to stir fond memories
of the flowing flaxen
tresses once so proudly borne
by the maid who lies within
Neath shady branches sits
a coffin carved from cold
grey granite garnished
with a softening mass
of fragrant mosses fair
as if to stir fond memories
of the flowing flaxen
tresses once so proudly borne
by the maid who lies within
Filed under faith, Inspired emotion, Self compositions
I once knew a sailor called Jack
loved it when the ship’s sails unfurled
and off he’d sail around the world
never knowing when he would be back
trusting the Captain to plot the track
constantly hoping for a breeze
to carry them across the seas
seeing foreign harbour lights
with all their promise of delights
to cater for the sailors needs.
Filed under Factual, Inspired emotion, Self compositions
The announcement that we all expected
came cutting through the usual noise
of children occupied with toys,
from household chores thoughts deflected,
eyes and ears to screens directed,
sombre is the next announcement
as they hear the dark pronouncement
today life has come to an end
for well loved husband, father, friend
reflecting on a life well spent
Filed under Factual, From the heart, Inspired emotion, Self compositions, Uncategorized
While I was sitting in my room
from next door’s radio came a tune
a few minutes passed as I listened
feeling slow tears as my eyes glistened
knowing I’d heard the tune before
probably from some movie score
Barber’s Adaggio for strings apparently
which William Orbit arranged so fluently.
Filed under Factual, Inspired emotion, Self compositions, Stirring the memories, Uncategorized
Eden saw doubt in their trembling smiles, they never expected her to recover. She had never seen compassion in anyone’s eyes before and was confused and frightened at their touch. Although not unpleasant it felt strange to have gentle hands running down her back and over her flanks. She yawned and felt she had to try and stand, if only to take a small sip of water. A privilege denied her for the past two days. Unsteadily, she shook her head and stretching her legs made as if to stand. It was too difficult but she heard an unfamiliar babble of sound. The tones were gentle, reassuring and somehow she understood that today would be the first day of a new life. When she opened her eyes she heard a loud cheer and looking into the eyes that stared down at her she could make out the tears running down. She too wanted to cry but it was with happiness not the pain she had often felt as she was taken out of her crate for yet another mating. She was sure this would be different and she did not resist as she found herself being lifted. She felt a soft blanket cover her and instinctively knew she was being rescued from her life of hell.
Filed under As you read it, Factual, Inspired emotion, Self compositions, Short story
Strings cannot withstand
the consummate elegance
of the wielded bow,
low tears wrenched from moistened eyes,
released by the cello’s mood.
Rising from the ground
the roaring, giant lantern
lifts into the air.
Pure thoughts emanate
from his serene countenance,
smile of the Buddha.
So we boarded the Northern train
in howling winds and stinging rain.
The guard, with duties now performed
gives one last cry of all aboard.
Green flag raised, his whistle blows,
checks the carriage doors all closed.
Whilst stowing cases overhead
released our snorting fiery steed
With metal and mesh racks overflowing
four bare round lamps, all gently glowing.
As we settle back on the velour seating
Our ankles warmed by piped steam heating.
So leaving the station far behind
we catch the rhythm of the lines.
Windows sealed against the chill
the rhythmic, rocking, motion will
enfold us, in it’s gentle arms
as we succumb to it’s lazy charms
After eight long hours the race is run
to our right the rising sun
our destination close ahead
reluctantly our journey’s end.
So sadly we depart the Northern train
Counting the days till we ride it again
Filed under Inspired emotion, On the lines of romance, Self compositions
Confined by health to her reclining chair
she told her nurse, “I’m dying.”
She replied by calling her a silly mare
but they both knew she was lying.
The old lady refused her breakfast
saying, “Please take it away,
last night’s dinner will be my last,
for the Angels are coming today.”
And the nurse with a smile jokingly said,
“You’re a bit grumpy today,
did you get out the wrong side of the bed
they’re not coming to take you away.”
The old lady passed away at lunchtime,
died peacefully but alone.
The smile on her face when they found her
told them the Angels had carried her home.
My writing, my books, my poetry and a bit of running.
Brett Kristian
Writing, reading, reflecting.
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
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