Category Archives: Self compositions

If one door closes

they say that one may open

therein lies the key.

I suppose you would say it was a given

that because I quite liked David Niven

I should have enjoyed,”The moon’s a balloon,”

but sadly found it quite jejune.

Looking for the answers to life’s game has always been

the ultimate search for people such as I it seems

but for many it appears to have been long eluded

and it seems we might have been deluded

by well chosen words of poets in prose and song

where the rhythm carries thoughts along

and if you at first struggle with the theme

read it again and hopefully find the key.

Although for once he’s found a home

without perambulation

none can doubt his desire to roam

with steely determination

but alas I fear the shingle beach

will forever remain out of reach

Winter leaves in haste

with few aspects enduring

frost cuts the blossoms

Silent but proud in lines they stand

in cities and towns across this land

In memory of those who stood before

doing their duty in time of war

some still lost while many returned

horrific images on their minds burned

for all these lives we can but pray

for our tomorrow they gave their today

A sheltered inlet

free from effervescent waves

with Spring comes the storm

When I first started living on the street

many kinds of people I was compelled to meet

I expected to encounter some antipathy

and I was certainly not looking for sympathy

but what shocked me was the sense of apathy

The old, moss-covered granite, packhorse bridge stands proudly above the noisy, never ending brook. Both have served the community for many ages past but today the relatively youthful bridge is doubly proud, for his carefully placed, leafy decoration has donned its frosty Winter morning jewellery. “Aha, he thought, top that my friend, with all your haste, your sun-dappled ripples cannot compare.” Just wait, the Goddess of the stream hissed, for in times to come the unseen, slowly creeping ice will stretch your bones and then you’ll ache,” and turning over lazily, dived deeply, a cold smile spreading over her face.

Raising the cover

I hear each chirp as hello

a cry for freedom