When the pen takes control.

Watching the weather

the fowl returns to the roost

ruffled by the breeze

Every year quite without fail

I would go home to celebrate

a birthday for which I could not be late

to see my mother in the Devon dales

an area you would quickly realse

gives real meaning to Dark Skies

and as those jewels passed overhead

we were awestruck, no words said

but sadly she has now passed on

my reason for the trip has gone

and though the meteors still come

I see a few but their meanings gone

I went back to Devon where I was born

looking for a cow that didn’t have horns

they said to me that’s a strange request

but I told everyone that they’re the best,

because a cow doesn’t have a lot of sense

they will often get their heads stuck in the fence

and horns won’t bend, whereas soft ears do

so it’s easier to pull her head back through

Steady as she goes

Life is like a rolling sea

the fixed course runs true

This is the tale of hissing Sid

to sit in the sun he slowly slid

as sibilance was his middle name

smoothly slithering and sliding was his game

Like the big bodied bumblebee

I often get the urge to go

and drift along quite aimlessly

where water and air so slowly flow

but although I only seek delight

she has a purpose to her flight

for during every waking hour

she seeks to drink from each bright flower

the only way blooms can spread their genes

and maintain such idyllic scenes.

Turn the egg timer

the sand gains life as it falls

abruptly ending

Fifty years ago

I can say that I was there,

with a great crowd

at the Bath music fair,

watching all the top

rock bands of the day,

playing their music

on a rudimentary stage.

A local farmer at the show

liked it so much,

being well known for his

entrepreneurial touch,

realised this could be

an exciting way,

to keep the young happy

and also make it pay,

decided to hold on his farm

an annual jamboree

which is now the festival ,

known as Glastonbury

I looked at the clock to check the time

to my surprise it was twenty to nine

when I should have been there at quarter past eight

obviously I was just a little bit late

but I don’t think thirty minutes is too bad

considering the awful journey I’d had

I couldn’t get a cab when I got off the train

and had to walk in the pouring rain

so I decided to ring them up and say

I’d meet them in the pub just across the way

Photo credit Sarah Whiley

Condemned to dance in wild

abandon she stands atop

her man made rock

and in false glee she

calls her sister zephyrs

from across the darkening sea