Poet's Corner

THE PAIN IN EVERY TEAR

The shadow in my heart does lengthen every day
As the sun in my life sinks beneath the hill.
You have gone, I have a thousand words to say
But they all come out, I love you darling, still.
As I wander through the memories of our past
I feel the warmth of you, so close, and at my side
I thought our love was infinite and it would forever last
Now it haunts me and I know not where to hide.

For that love is now one sided
As it roams in search of you
I know not where to guide it
Far less what you are going through.
I just know my heart is aching
Way down deep inside
Your love was for the taking
Now there's pain in every tear that I have cried.

The shadow in my heart blocks out the light
Cold fingers grip my soul, and chill my bone,
Fond memories share with me my bed at night
But my days are long, now that I am left alone.
I seek the reassurance that only you my love can give
That all is well, in where you now abide
And with that reassurance, I will try my life to live
And the pain that resides within me I shall hide.

Daffyd

Whispers on the Wind


When in a contemplative mood I often go for a quiet stroll in a small woodland near my home. As I walk I listen to the trees...... talking, and I often wonder just what message they are passing on through the rustling of their leaves.......


Listen to the whispers
that are borne upon the wind,
Echoing the sighs of Heaven
over a fate that's predestined.
For the moving hand has written
the world's fate amongst the stars,
And the winds oft moan and repeat those words
in their varied repertoires.

Softly like a zephyr's kiss
or loudly as in a gale,
The wind informs the whispering grass
who in turn, repeats the tale.
The trees take up the story,
Hear it rustling through the leaves?
The truth is surely out there
it's only man that disbelieves.....

Where Broken Hearts are Healed

I picture her in my despair
That angelic face and auburn hair
For around that form there is a light
That will guide me through the darkest night.
There is a comfort in her gentle smile
That does ease my pain for a little while
There's reassurance in those eyes
That quell the panic, and pacifies.

I picture her in my hours of need
When the winter nights are long
I pray, for her I shall succeed
And tha my endeavour shall be strong.
I seek her guidance through the power of thought
In all that I say and do,
I relax in her love, her warmth, support
Albeit spiritual, it's true.

I picture her here by my side
A confidante in whom I confide,
I ask directions through life's maze
And listen closely to what she says.
She bids me to share my earthly love
To give of myself, and to rise above
The prejudice and narrow minds
To cast off the emotional chains that binds.

I picture her as a spirit free
An abstract form of peace
The message that she conveys to me
Is that in Death we find release.
For in that world beyond our ken
New concepts will be revealed
It's a new beginning, not Amen
It's where broken hearts are healed.

Daffyd

Very nice DaffyD.

TOMORROW

Tomorrow is a day that by definition, will never dawn
Whilst yesterday was a day when tomorrow was its morn
Tomorrow holds our future and yesterday our past,
Why not settle for today and make the present last.

Yesterday is history and has been so since time began
Tomorrow is an abstract time in the mind of every man.
Yesterday holds memories of the tomorrows we endured
But today is the day when things get done, of that be re-assured.

Yesterday is time you've spent learning how to live
Tomorrow is so indeterminate, what else have you to give?
Yesterday you gave it all to that dependent outstretched hand,
Today is what you should settle for, and then life would be grand

Her First Encounter


The scene, please, you imagine,
Make it as simple as can be.
The place, where you prefer it,
The players, he and she.
Position, she was reclining,
Staring at the ceiling up above.
Music, it was piped
The theme was harmony and love.

She whispered, "Will it hurt much?"
"Of course it won't" said he
"It's a very simple process,
Relax, rely on me."
She said, "I'm rather frightened,
I've never done this sort of thing before,
I've been assured there's nothing like it,
When it's over, will I be sore?"

He started to convince her
That it wouldn't hurt a bit,
She finally consented
And then wholly did submit.
Three, four minutes passed by
And neither spoke a word
It was she that broke the silence,
Her voice was rather blurred.

"It is getting rather painful"
The tears were in her eyes.
"It is hurting quite a bit now,
It must be quite a size."
"Now calm yourself my dear" he said
His face betrayed a grin.
"Relax and let it open,
And then I can get right in."

He adjusted his position
And approached her from behind,
Probing, easing gently,
The right spot for to find.
His grip upon her tightened,
He blocked the ceiling from her view,
All that she could think of was
His eyes are azure blue.

"It's coming now" he said to her
"I know" she thought with bliss
"It is quite a funny feeling
When you're lying back like this."
A spasmodic jerk then shook her
She gave a sudden shout
The experience was over,
Thank the Lord it's out.

Having obliged the sweet young lady
She was reminded of his fee
As would any Dentist
Unless your Dentist's free.

A Halloween Howler..............

Apocalypse...at the gates of his imagination


He walked into the garden and gazed up into the sky
His face displaying melancholy, a tear formed in his eye,
And as the shadows lengthened the sun began to fade,
He slowly shook his head and sighed as he thought of the plans he’d made.
Lost in thought he stood there staring sightless, at the stars
His mind carried him through galaxies, transported him to Mars.
He rested on a rainbowed cloud that was full of morning dew,
And saw twin moons lying lazily in a dreamy sky of blue.
Way beyond the recumbent moons several horsemen he did espy
Was this in fact the Apocalypse, was he about to die?
Lightning flashed before him, illuminating all around,
Followed by a growling thunder, such a dreadful, eerie, sound.


Sepulchral monuments reared up in the now ebony shadowed sky,
Like a granite forest beneath which, the dead are made to lie.
Fragile barges drifted on through a swirling misty sea,
Ferrying Death from all the worlds, to this galactic cemetery.
For here souls are reincarnated, perchance reborn once more,
Then ferried by these boatmen, according to ancient law,
Back to atone for their sinful ways, so that they may reach a higher plain
And for those of us who do not atone, we’re ferried back and forth again.

Such was the vision shown to him of humanity and its fate,
As he stood alone and terrified at his imagination’s gate.
Had he atoned sufficiently or were his efforts of no avail,
Should he offer up his soul today, dare he cross the veil?
The moment came, then his chance was gone, he stood staring at the sky,
The tear that had formed ran down his cheek, it was not his time to die.
He slowly turned and walked back, the Horsemen circled overhead,
Then they rode off into the darkness, searching for the Dead.

A Halloween Visit

A weakened sun slips from the sky

Darkness rules in its place,

The October moon, obscured by cloud

Illuminates not, their face.

For ghosts and ghouls set foot abroad

On this eve of Halloween,

Gathering souls to attend their ball

Via the gates of the guillotine

The dead are raised from their musty graves

As the moon breaks through the cloud

Disturbed at rest, these spectres moan

And the banshee wail out loud.

Pumpkin heads with eyes aflame

Light up the darkness of the night

Witches with their familiars, came

Vampires to kiss, then bite!

A chill wind whistled around my chair

The fire did douse, then die

The Devil emerged from a dank gray mist

Fire raged in his eye.

His hand flicked forth to grasp my arm

I flinched and moved away,

"The Halloween Ball was to have been here tonight,

Shall you send my friends, away?"

A strident, piercing, ringing tone

Dispersed the phantoms of the night

The door bell persisted, so I arose

And once more walked into the light.

I reached the door and threw it open wide

To greet my callers and invite them in

"Trick or treat?" the ghost horde cried

Led by the Devil..... with an impish grin!

I like that DaffyD

Gabriel's Horn

It's a tale of the Supernatural

That's the tale I wish to tell

Where Ghouls most foul and Ghosties

Came marching right out of Hell.

Fiendish apparitions,

That did stun and shock the mind,

Did freeze the blood within the vein

These forebears of Mankind.

What was it that disturbed them?

Why should they come forth this way?

Bringing with them from THAT place

The debt they must repay.

Was it the Horn of Gabriel

That had summoned those long dead?

Was this the Day of Judgment

Which all Ghosts and Ghoulies dread?

Nay, 'tis but a legend that repeats itself

Each millenium, or there about,

When Ghost and Ghoulies hear the call

And all Hell is emptied out!

Beware of the Supernatural

And the tales that are often told,

For when the Horn of Gabriel sounds

It summons both young and old.

COLUMBUS

In those days of yore.....1492
Columbus was looking for something to do
He sought a patron to invest
In a trip he'd planned.....ooh way out west
Queen Isobella liked his persuasive style
And backed his plan for a little while
Come back home on these ships cheerie
With the gold and silver that you promised me.

He sailed forth with three gallant ships
With the promise of gold issuing from his lips
Five weeks into this epic quest
Continually heading, west, Nor/west
Despondency did beset his crew
But Columbus knew just what to do
The first man to call out, 'Land ahead!'
Would be rewarded with silver, and royally fed.


Rodrequez a simple Spanish sailor
Normally shipped in a Norwegian whaler
Was duty bound in the ship's crow's nest
Yelled, 'Land ahoy' and pointed West
'I claim the prize, I want all to know!'
"No way I saw that land four hours ago!"
'Twas Columbus who made this spurious claim
" I claim the prize and so end this game!"

Rodders fumed and cussed and spat
And history has it long after that
That Rodders unable to stand the strife
Dejected, broken, took his own life.
Whilst Columbus claimed immortality
For discovering a place he did not see
His story is legend as is his boast
But he was haunted by Rodders ghost!

A Soldier Died TodayLeast we forget
Written by A Lawrence Vaincourt


He was getting old and paunchy,
and his hair was falling fast
as he sat around the legion,
telling stories of their past.

Of war that he once fought in
and the deeds that he had done.
In his exploits with his buddies,
they were heroes, everyone!


And tho sometimes to his neighbours,
his tales became a joke.
All his buddies listened quietly,
for they knew of where he spoke.


But we'll hear his tales no longer,
for ole' Bob has passed away,
and the world's a little poorer
for a soldier died today!



He won't be mourned by many,
just his children and his wife
for he lived an ordinary,
very quiet sort of life.


He held a job and raised a family
going quietly on his way.
And the world won't note his passing,
'tho a soldier died today!


When politicians leave this earth,
their bodies lie in state.
While thousands note their passing
and proclaim that they were great.


Papers tell of their life story,
from the time that they were young.
But the passing of a soldier
goes unnoticed and unsung.


Is it the greatest contribution
to the welfare of our land,
some jerk who breaks his promise
and con's his fellow man.,


Or the ordinary fellow,
who in times of war and strife,
goes off to serve his country
and offers up his life.



The politicians stipend
and the style in which he lives,
are often disproportionate
to the service that he gives.


While the ordinary soldier
who offered up his all.
Is paid with a medal,
and perhaps a pension, small.

It is not the politicians
with their compromise and ploys
who won for us our freedom
that our country now enjoys,


Should you find yourself in danger,
with your enemies at hand,
would you really want some cop-out
with his ever waffling stand?


Of would you want a soldier,
his home, his country, his kin.
Just a common soldier
who would fight until the end.


He was just a common soldier
and his ranks are growing thin.
But his presence should remind us
we may need his like again.


For when countries are in conflict,
we find the soldier's part
is to clean up all the troubles
that the politicians start.



If we cannot do him honour
while he's here to hear the praise,
then at least let's give him homage
at the ending of his days.



Perhaps just a simple headline, that the paper might say.

" OUR CONTRY IS IN MOURNING, A SOLDIER DIED TODAY!"

( I make no apologies for the lack of pictures

as this poem should stand alone)

A Christmas Story

I had no Christmas spirit when I breathed a weary sigh,
and looked across the table where the bills were piled too high.
The laundry wasn't finished and the dinner I had to fix,
The dishwasher wouldn't work, and now it's all in bits
And so with only minutes till my son got home from school,
I gave up on the drudgery and grabbed a wooden stool.
The burdens that I carried were about all I could take,
and so I flipped the TV on to catch a little break.



I came upon a desert scene in shades of tan and rust,
No snowflakes hung upon the wind, just clouds of swirling dust.
And where the reindeer should have stood before a laden sleigh,
eight hummers ran a column right behind an M1A.
A group of boys walked past the tank, not one was past his teens,
Their eyes were hard as polished flint, their faces drawn and lean.
They walked the street in armor with their rifles shouldered tight,
their dearest wish for Christmas, just to have a silent night.


Other soldiers gathered, hunkered down against the wind,
To share a scrap of mail and dreams of going home again.
There wasn't much at all to put their lonely hearts at ease,
They had no Christmas turkey, just a pack of MRE's.
They didn't have a garland or a stocking I could see,
They didn't need an ornament-- they lacked a Christmas Tree.
They didn't have a present even though it was tradition,
the only boxes I could see were labeled "ammunition".


I felt a little tug and found my son now by my side,
He asked me what it was I feared, and why it was I cried.
I swept him up into my arms and held him oh so near
and kissed him on the forehead as I whispered in his ear.
There's nothing wrong, my little son, for safe we sleep tonight.
Our heroes stand on foreign land to give us all the right,
to worry about the things in life that really mean nothing at all,
instead of wondering each day if we will be the next to fall.


He looked at me as children do and said it's always right,
to thank the ones who help us and perhaps that we should write.
And so we pushed aside the bills and sat to draft a note,
to thank the many far from home, and this is what we wrote,
"God bless you all and keep you safe, and speed your way back home.
Remember that we love you so, and that you're not alone.
The gift you give, you share with all, a present every day,
You give the gift of liberty and that we can't repay.

Author unknown"

Looking Back

As the year draws to a close, I look back as I have done for many years and conclude that..............

I remember the cheese of my childhood,
and the bread that we cut with a knife,
When the children helped with the housework,
and the men went to work not the wife..

The cheese never needed an ice chest,
and the bread was so crusty and hot,
The children were seldom unhappy
and the wife was content with her lot.

I remember the milk from the billy,
with the yummy cream on the top,
Our dinner came hot from the oven,
and not from the fridge in the shop.

The kids were a lot more contented,
they didn't need money for kicks,
Just a game with our mates in the paddock,
and sometimes the Saturday flicks.

I remember the shop on the corner,
where a pen'orth of lollies was sold
Do you think I'm a bit too nostalgic,
or is it....I'm just getting old?

I remember when the loo was the dunny,
and the pan man came in the night,
It wasn't the least bit funny
going out the back with no light.

The interesting items we perused,
from the newspapers cut into squares,
And hung on a peg in the outhouse,
Just one hook and no room for the spares

The clothes were boiled in the copper,
with plenty of rich foamy suds
But the ironing seemed never ending
as Mum pressed everyone's duds

I remember the slap on my backside,
and the taste of soap if I swore
Anorexia and diets weren't heard of
and we hadn't much choice what we wore.

Do you think that bruised our ego?
or our initiative was destroyed
We ate what was put on the table
and I think life was better enjoyed.

What a great way to read memories, that was excellent.

I agree it is a great piece of work which I enjoyed reading. Not mine I'm afraid, it was that world renowned poet and authoress, Ann Onimous!

2013

Entering a New Year, twenty thirteen

With forecasts of gloom like you've never seen

But forecasts are but guesstomates

Subject to fluctuations and often change

If this was not the case life would indeed be strange

Consultation of your stars are flights of fancy, true

There is nothing written deep in stone that pertains to me or you

Live each days as it presents itself

Enjoy your surrounds and friends

For who knows what is in store fore us, or when that enjoyment ends?

That was a great one DaffyD, I always enjoy your contributions.

Aye, would you take a wee look at this......?

ARD RIGH
Kenneth son of Alpin

Circa 798 - 858 AD


Born a Prince of Galloway, circa 798, Kenneth son of Alpin, was to form a Scottish state, through the unity of Celtic nations for the first time in that land. All the chiefs, theirs lords and mormaors, were to be ruled by one strong hand.

Kenneth the Norseman slayer, both on land and sea, Kenneth the Dalriadan princling who sort Celtic unity, from the purple hills of Alba, down to Man in the Irish sea. Even Wales and Northern Ireland figured in this community.
Kenneth organised a united front to chase the Norsemen from their shores. He trapped and burnt their Dragon ships, and onshore, drew their claws. LIA FAILL, the Stone of Destiny was saved by Kenneth mac, he hid it from raiding Norsemen, eventually to Scone he brought it back.
Dalriada, Galloway and Alba, were united by his hand. Those kingdoms became SCOTIA, a new word for SCOTTISH LAND. The first Code of Laws for Scotland were defined by Kenneth mac, the Norse raiders feared the ARD RIGH and in the end did not come back.
Kenneth reigned for sixteen years as High King of the new Scotland. Fighting off the Norsemen and any other raiding band. He died in 858 A.D. Whilst sailing through Bute Kyle and was buried with his ancestors on the bewitching Iona isle.

ALFIE

My Little Cockney Sparrow


I 'ad a little bird like that
Stuffed an' stood up on a twig
Housed in an upturned fish bowl
Well, 'e wasn't very big.

'ad a sparkle in 'is eye 'e did, but
Ah' never 'eard him sing
Ah called 'im Alfie, me ole cock sparrow
Looked after 'im like a king.

Ah carried 'im up the 'Apples & Pears
When ah went up there tuh kip
Placed 'im on the bedside table
'cause mah room was such a tip.

Ah 'eard a ringing on the 'Dog and Bone'
An ah reached out, half asleep
Knocked ole Alfie crashing tuh the floor
He never let out a peep.

Nah Alfie's upturned fish bowl
Lies broken on the floor
I'll never keep another bird
No! Not me, no more!

Great Daffyd!

MY FRIEND SAM....



They came and took my friend from
me a tear rolled down my cheek,
He lost his life at the age of three
who's help will I know seek?
His companionship and love was mine
this devoted friend and aide
He walked with me, be it wet or fine,
we were veterans on parade.


We would leave the bustle of the town
and stroll down by the sea,
He would guide me up the dunes and down,
for I am blind you see.
Our favourite spot was an old pine log
lying on the shore,
The wind, the sea, the sky, my dog,
who could ask for anything more?


I let him run and enjoy his bark
as he played upon the sand
And then he'd take me through the park
and we'd listen to the band.
Sam and I were soul mates true
we were known all over town
He knew by instinct just what to do
and he never let me down.

He'd rest his head upon my knee,
I'd stroke his shaggy hair
He devoted all his life to me
and lifted my despair.
He'd guide me through the shopping mall
right to the very store,
A companion, friend, my only pal,
who could ask for anything more?


Our walks were long and unconfined
yet circuitous just the same
For sand and frolics were on his mind,
he must play his daily game.
I'd slip his lead and off he'd run
while I waited by the log
He'd bark and dig and have his fun,
he'd earned it, good old dog.


Then came that fateful day in May
we set out for our walk,
My dog ran off and began to play
whilst a friend and I did talk.
There was a blast! A bark, a whine,
then silenced reigned once more,
My dog had found an old land mine
a relic of the war.


My sightless eyes just filled with tears
as they led me from the shore,
Our favourite spot now a place of fears
I'd go back there no more.
My darkness now imprisons me
in a tomb of black despair,
Sam was a friend who'd set me free,
who else was there to care?

Forgetful my hand reaches out
to that damp patch on my knee,
Sam's head's not there but without a doubt
that's where it ought to be!
They've laid a plaque in the shopping Mall
outside our favourite store,
To my companion, friend and only pal,
who could ask for anything more?

So sad, what a tribute though to a friend.

A Mirrored Thought

Staring past my forlorn image
I fell into my tear filled eyes,
Into pools of mysticism,
pools that hold and hypnotise.
Hypnotic scenes confuse my mind,
reflective thought then angers me,
Heavenly eyes are burning brightly,
yet being so blind I cannot see.

Then dark brown eyes encompass me
and warm me in a loving way
Those soft pools of life's reflection,
watching all I do and say.
Those mirrors of remembrance
those orbs of sheer delight
That gaze with love upon me
and watch over me at night.

At times they are full of sorrow,
expressing deep and lasting pain.
Then in a trice they're twinkling,
they are soft and brown again.
I reach out into that mirrored thought
for one more sweet caress
Causing ripples in my reflections,
loose the image, and find distress.

Even now my eyes are brimming
with tears that are tinged with salt
Windmill thoughts run through my mind,
at who's door lies the fault?
I've traced our life together
from the first day that we met
I've relived each loving moment
and yet and yet and yet,
I cannot find a reason
in any single day
Why God in His infinite mercy
Took my darling wife away.

A sweatheart and a mother
with a soul as pure as snow
Was tortured and disfigured,
it's the "WHY" I want to know.
She was the reason for my being,
the beacon of my day,
Without her I am flotsam,
with a lonely role to play.

Returning to the mirror
and the haggard image there
I note how deep the lines are etched,
the fast receding hair,
The puffiness neath dark rimmed eyes,
the pallor of the skin,
Scars of battles fought and lost,
a fight I could not win.

Exhausted and despondent
my body cries for sleep,
I try and rest my tired frame,
but can only lie and weep.
For lonely is this empty house,
and lonelier still my bed,
Even though I lie wherein
once lay my darling's head.

Even now my eyes are brimming
with tear that are tinged with salt
Windmill thoughts run through my mind,
at who's door lies the fault?

There's a picture on my bedside table in a frame that's brown and gold
I haven't had the picture long and the frame's not very old,

But that picture and that picture frame, they mean the world to me,

I keep it close, right by my bed, so that it's the last thing that I see

And as I close my eyes to sleep with that image in my mind,

There is a peace that comes and caresses me and helps me to unwind

It's her quiet smile as I say goodnight that soothes my turmoiled brain

Knowing that after a tranquil night, I'll see that smile again

The comfort is in the knowing that those brown eyes will never close

My bedside guardian angel, my own, sweet summer rose.



I talk to her and tell her how my broken heart does pine,

How the sun no longer warms me, nor for me do night stars shine,

I tell her that the moon she loved has lost its silvery glow

I remind her of our evening walks, for I know she loved them so.

The world is cold without her, a grey and dismal place,

Until I look at that photograph and see that sweet smile upon her face.

For that smile, it brings back memories, it warms my ice bound heart,

It prepares my mind for that hypnotic sleep where lovers never part.

The comfort is in the knowing that those brown eyes will never close,

My bedside guardian angel, my own, sweet summer rose.