Early morning dark skies slowly just visible the clouds slip byThen a crimson glow seeps in on the horizon expanding wideUntil the pink puffs spread and join highlighting the midnight blue Embracing the shapes that slowly evolve into candyfloss clouds chasing Wafting high against the midnight blue backdrop canvas such beauty Arriving so quick and going so fast as the pink glow dissipates The clouds now slate grey tumbling past as the Sun tries to shine through
Lost at sea in a crowdAll sound no wordsYet peace strangely is found amid the cacophony of soundsIn a mel'ay of chat On this and thatThoughts of years gone byFill the memoryYet no sigh,Too many reasons whyWhere do the years goThey just slip by.As I wander and wonderHave I just tagged alongOr have I lived my lifeA loving wife.
I am an old dog that I know but for my morning walk I am ready to goI know that I am getting very slow and I huff and puff every step an effortPlease put on my lead, don’t leave without me it’s the best part of my day The walks are getting shorter though the time walking remains the sameSniffing all the scented trails left by whatever, the fox, the badger, the rabbit and the rat, and of course the smell of the old tomcat.I have walked this lane for so many years I feel this morning’s summer breeze and listen to the birds flying high and singing in the treesI see the goat on the tether there, looking at me with that curious stare The warmth of the sun makes me hot and I pant we stop for a while Standing still, when we turn around to go home that is up to me, you seeThe question is asked and I look into the distance nose in the airA little further along the way for me to day, not ready for home just nowA won’t be long though as my bones are telling me, the lump on my knee I eat well and I sleep well, almost all day and then I grab a teddy and playI might be old but I am not giving up, I have to fight on for my masterHe needs me to give him strength for his day we “soldier” on together The question is asked, we turn and face home, my eyes say enough today.
I have always loved writing. Poetry has been almost a lifelong hobby, or maybe need, to try to keep a grip on life in general especially important when I was a teenager. My interests now have moved into writing my own songs as well, I love to sing, and this was the only thing I remember being good at
The LieWritten June 2000.Such is mind games, why the words spoken Only to be denied.Why the lie, Why the deceit?This is the question askedProtection of one’s own interestJealous evil desire,The truth may never be known.But now a friendship lost forever.No more will trust be there.Lost in the midst of the morning dawnFriendship such a fragile thing,Acquaintances from now onImagination not the cause,I still see the mouth moveSaying those words apparentlyI never heard.
MouldWritten aprox’1983/4The mould on the bathroom wall you seem to say it all, Encroaching on the plaster concealing the pink as if the flesh.Doomed.As a face appears in the green it lingers in my thoughts, I remember all the premonitions, wonderingPerhaps it’s all superstition.Not knowing, as the green makes me look deep inside myself, my life, my thoughts and me in a state of deep dark depression.
Innocence GoneOh where did the pretty face go?with age it slipped away.A beautiful rose one year and nowlike a faded lily.Two years have passed since she smiledCompleteWith innocence hiding, now she smiles with innocence gone,Her smiles of knowing hiding.(Bampton 1980’s)
Boscastle Fair [ magic Moments ] written 4 09 87.And 400 hundred years on I leant against the white washed walls, Still standing.I saw pirates with their sea burn ruddy complexions,Watch the dancing.Tankards in hand bragging of their latest escapades,Spoils of ventures being sold, drinking and the maids.Slowly the vision slipped gently away and wondering, I askWhat was it really like in those bygone day’s that have passed.The ageing walls soaked up the vibrant effervescing atmosphere.Kindling the echoing memories of those forgotten years.The sun shone down in all her glory so warm and so bright,Enhancing all the merriment, children playing and dancing such delight.The landlord filled the flowing bowls and many times they ran over, As people in their joyful state swayed to and fro far from sober.Clapping hands humming stamping feet and dancing in enthusiasm.The fiddles and flutes did flutter and flirt in wonderful unison,As the concertinas and accordions embraced the melodies with care. Of reels and jigs waltz and tango’s too, all did share.With guitars some soft and gentle finger picking, others in bold rhythm.As whistles and bodhrans and spoons and all joined in the anthem.Babe in arms kicked her feet to the beat bouncing back, from off theBlackened beams.Such are magic moments beyond ones wildest dreams.Then like a shadow oozing from the wall “old pop” did take the floor, And the Archers and the Steptoes came to call, how he made us roar.He played his mouth organ and told us tales too, the icing on the cake.
The Unanswerable Question. Written Early eighties.The moment after that final breath has lingered,Slowly withdrawing leaving ones’ mortal flesh and blood.Gone forever so quicklyAnd yet here to stay.In the memories and thoughts,Of those whom we have known.Man and beast alike,So many things paralleledBut only two are present now,We are all born to dieAnd there must be a reason but why?Perhaps we are all part of an experiment,In some far off super intelligence’s plan.We call God Allah or BuddhaThe creator the giverBut also the taker.If the secret of Life’s purpose is ever known,Then it can only be on approaching death.That time of the final breath.If there is a place where our souls live on,Or is eternal life the remembrance of us in others,And we are no more, forever gone.
What Say You, Rubbish! Final edit March 2014Centra sandwich box sits soaking in the rainEcho friendly, cardboard, soggy chicken stuffing.Two euro fifty and the purchaser so thrifty, saving the effort of disposingEcho friendly just one of many!Flinging, their daily routine not seen, as the electric windows glides up and down.Not hardly a sound as it hits the ground.First of February cold frosty morning winter sun just up, dawning.Spar Bridge Road Listowel, carvery dinner tin foil, crinkled.Glistening in the early morning sun , another one.Flinger, Spoiler, Rubbishing person, on their way home.The working day done, remaining faceless unknown, perhaps it's the same faceover the years, they'll not be caught, no fear!Plastic bottles in various states of decay, line the verges hanging in bushes and trees.Skipping along the way in the turbulent breeze.Glinting silver paper, all that is left of a dozen or more smokers packets thrown.Flung, either coming from or going home.Condoms' tossed spent the night before, can't take them home, that's for sure!Syringe's sit resting empty the cost of someone's “high”The electric cooker hob half covered in the yellowing grass, fell off the trailer,As another load already lightened arrives at the land fill.The sun bed frame, the shuttering for a ramp, fridges freezers and a mattress or twoTossed along the old bog road, no conscience of the awful sight.Bundles of unwanted clothes, carpets and chairs, lampshades and a tray of rotting eggswhatever, it has to go somewhere.Forest, planted, dotted here and there curtailing the views that once prevailed,As far as the eye could see.Now hides the unwanted clutter, from faceless individualsFrom all walks of life.Used pampers, workman's gloves, sliced bread still wrapped,The van driver that once a week on Friday afternoon wherever he happens to be,Will empty his rubbish along the lane, for all to see, no shame!
Thoughts of LoveGentle loving calm,Like warm winds on a summers dayAnd yet racingLike the tide running out to sea.Miles between us Like the earth and the sunAnd yet touching.
Dusk and Dawn written 1979 ishAs the darkness starts to mask the dayShadows fall the fadeNow only shade.The crisp edge of the November mornSun searing through a pin hole dawnAnother day has been spawned.Betwixt Night and DayStill soft quiet mornThe earth doth stretch and yawnAs whispering winds caressMomentarily time is suppressed.And the silver morning dewGlistens on the flora and fauna newTowering tranquil treesAddress the birds amidst their leaves.Cock pheasant makes chase, decoyTo outwit mans ployCunning no snare triggeredFox has not lingered.Perched a statue not of stoneWatchful buzzard aloneEyes of hunting intentHis sense of purpose ever-presentClouds of rising steamPercolating from the hedgerows greenRising morning golden sunThe garter of dawn undone.
Passion burning boilingBrewing rampant breath,Fingers on thighSending rivers of shiversRunning highConvulsing muscles knottingScheming plotting.Excitement of youthDeceives the truthPure animal attractionDrives you to distractionResistance lowYou know the answerwould not be no.Frivolous escapadesRejuvenate ComplacentLazy ways.Now knowing eyes smileHolding memoriesClose to heartSecret all the while,Never letting outGiving no home to doubt.As all together friendsFulfilment andHappiness depends.1984
Where a poem’s name is underlined, you can click on the name to hear Hazel reciting it!