Warm Home

It is cold, icy air blows
Watching the rain trickle down my window pain
reflecting light as drops fall…. scintillating 
An appointment to attend, work is waiting
My mind in a tizzy, so what should I do?
Look through the window and think of you
be brave for a moment, put on a coat
But it is cold, icy air blows
I think I will stay at home
say “I’ve got a cold” 

Twist-Ed

I dance among the Lily’s, the aromatic scent recalling the day that your love last went, no truth or lie, the scent lingers long, though I cannot recall the memory of our song, 

The sheep flock on the hill in pastures anew, the hunger of the wolf, means no one is eating stew, mist rises up direct from the east, a full moon tonight quip’s  terror from the beast

Tracks run on far, too far to see, a trudging of a boy who lives in fantasy, the strength of the wind blows a storm across the land, a creaking broken roof brings death to the man

Lightening catch the fish, yet the anglers very far, exploding power towers have landed on his car, he lay there frozen stiff, wrapped with his belt, while electric powers sparking his dashboard does melt. 

Trees around fall, the womans feeling small, her heart is up for claim and she wishes to live again, the shack that she is within spins to lose or win, rain is pelting down, she’s in need of a friend, yet it is a shame, she has o friend to send.

The storm passes by, still he struggles on, weak at the knees, the once good friends have gone, hands are stiffened with bitter twisted vines, it’s too long to continue on in a chilled ugly life, without his best friend, his one departed wife. 

Mr Putin

Mr Putin - how do you want to be remembered ?

Killing children, Ukraine to tell

A bomb to power for a place in hell

Mr Putin - negotiate peace, a hundred year war for a thousand year lease

A world of Russians suffer for your abstract cause, 

Has history not shown you a thing about war! 

Mr Putin - how do you want to be remembered ?

A decade of ruin, a debt with a clause. 

Live a hero or die a fool ?

Thursday

Explosions all around, dying people everywhere , I hide behind the walls in dreads of fear, screaming in the street, lasers fill the grey void of winter chill, perhaps it’s time to swallow that final pill, as the building collapses into demise, I can hear the fainted passing of another life, in panic I cannot breathe and begin to sweat until I am soaked through and completely wet, there is a blast nearby loud of boast, am I to die?, I do not know, all of a sudden a shadow is close, I’m taken by the hand of a Holy Ghost, a guardian angel of subtle look, in one arm a tuba and the other hand a book “do not fear, she utters sweet”, for you are still alive within your sheets, she taps me gently upon my face I open my eyes to white satin lace, it was so surreal, a nightmarish dream or could have been the future that I haven’t yet seen, whatever the case another ruined night brought on by the panic of a horridly frightening sight. 

Beautiful Heart

A time frozen still, a picture in my mind, I shall keep it, as it is all but mine, an overwhelming feeling every day, When I close my eyes, I am where my heart doth lay, rolling hills blend a curvature of one land, I am mesmerised with the fields, so much that although I’m not there I can feel the grass with my clenched hand, I yearn to breathe, to touch, to feel, the Cotswold hill and the sheep still, yet I never will, blessed though they all be, this said is Englands victory, beautiful forests, breathtaking view, so what keeps me here? You may ask anew, a simple answer may be due for ‘there  is no better place on gods Green earth than to feel your kiss and be near you.

Bad Intentions

Beware foolish ghouls that attack you in your sleep, the tragedy of lost souls, a secret they may keep,

Beware little rascals with talons on their feet, cleverly disguised as children, laughing as you weep,

Tormented crying babies, within evil lurks, men that snipe with anger, narcissistic jerks 

Beware the rich and powerful, anger they will wield, reaping a failed stock of corn in their thousand acre field

Evil fortune bring it in, “our neighbour and our friend” they sing, the colleague of intentions poor, a little crazy, pretentiously poor, poisoning thought…‘what’s it for’

Beware a trail of heartache for history alas gone since, suicidal thoughts we have a lie and a sin, heal a soul daily with a prayer and a little gin. 

Breathe

No matter where you are, what you are doing or how busy…STOP!, walk outside, look at the view or the trees, the bird in the air, or simply the sky, take a moment,  absorb all, close your eyes & breathe