Oh! Silver Moon, that lights the way,
I heard your call, I heard you say,
“Come, join me, for I feel alone,
Once, people came, but now they’ve flown.
Around your planet, countless years,
And no one saw my new frontiers.
Then, just as strange folks came as friends,
They, all too soon, were gone again!
I found the write place!
It’s all write & in the right place.
It sends my senses all tingly,
My brain cells all jingly,
My pencil can hardly keep pace!
I knew it was alright as soon as I turned right, to write.
Across the bridge and up the hill,
I must’ve taken the write little pill.
Life is a bouquet of glorious colour,
Transforming all that it brings.
Its intricate fragility, gossamer;
Vibrant, like butterfly wings.
With superb imperfection, every last petal
Unfolds; from petite, peachy buds.
Offering freely, a silken sheen wilderness,
Fragrant; where sweet nectar floods.
A little girl sat on the lap of her Dad,
When he’d finished his cuppa & No6 fag.
He’d blow a big raspberry, under her chin,
Which ended in giggles, and a big, daddy grin.
On hot sunny days, a treat came, unplanned,
Home for tea; iced strawberry mivvis in hand.
Summers were long, and in winter’s thick snow,
We dragged wooden sledges, faces aglow.
Apocalyptic, swirling mist,
Casting forth its blight,
Camouflaging daytime hours,
Threatening the night.
Consuming images, closing in,
Engulfing distant dreams,
Suffocating every view,
Sketching every scene.
Seventy five years in the passing,
The 6th of June; brave troops amassing.
Nobody knew how countless would pay,
For saving our souls that proud D-Day.
From hillsides, valleys, towns & moors,
They set off, leaving British shores.
A rendezvous of military purpose,
They called it Piccadilly Circus.
Reaching out, freely; spreading your wings,
Feeling for whatever prospects life brings.
Quenching your thirst through the unlit, unknown,
Extending; begging, for somewhere called home.
Sometimes it feels like a bottomless hole,
You’re grasping and hoping, you’re saving your soul.
Every dark corner is there for the taking,
Waiting for luminance, newly awakening.
Hidden ships sail stormy seas,
Sway to the swell of the ocean breeze.
A rustling tide that ebbs & flows,
Where rustic music roars and blows.
Heads aloft in sacred trance,
Arms held high in spirit dance,
A comradeship of drunken song,
Ancestral crowds, where all belong.
Fly away fairies to far flung places,
Scatter your seeds on earth’s empty spaces.
Sprinkled whispers on flighty breeze,
Enchanted spells cast forth with ease.
Delicate twinkles drifting on air,
Graceful parachutes glide, unaware,
From puff ball planes, admiring the view,
Floating their way towards pastures new.
Raise downcast eyes to the sobbing skies,
To the swirling hues of grey.
An outstretched palm unfurls,
releasing rivers; wild, at play.
There are no bounds to the pounding sounds,
From the waterfalls of wrath.
To splash in puddles, nonchalant,
Along the winding path.
