POETRY

Early morning dark skies slowly just visible the clouds slip by Then a crimson glow seeps in on the horizon expanding wide Until 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 crowd All sound no words Yet peace strangely is found amid the cacophony of sounds In a mel'ay of chat On this and that Thoughts of years gone by Fill the memory Yet no sigh, Too many reasons why Where do the years go They just slip by. As I wander and wonder Have I just tagged along Or have I lived my life A  loving wife.
I am an old dog that I know but for my morning walk I am ready to go I know that I am getting very slow and I huff and puff every step an effort Please 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 same Sniffing all the scented trails left by whatever, the fox, the badger, t he 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 trees I 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 see The question is asked and I look into the distance nose in the air A little further along the way for me to day, not ready for home just now A 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 play I might be old but I am not giving up, I have to fight on for my master He 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 Lie Written June 2000. Such is mind games, why the words spoken Only to be denied. Why the lie, Why the deceit? This is the question asked Protection of one’s own interest Jealous 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 dawn Friendship such a fragile thing, Acquaintances from now on Imagination not the cause, I still see the mouth move Saying those words apparently I never heard.
Mould
Written aprox’1983/4
The 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,
wondering
Perhaps 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 Gone
Oh 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
smiledComplete
With 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 quickly And yet here to stay. In the memories and thoughts, Of those whom we have known. Man and beast alike, So many things paralleled But only two are present now, We are all born to die And 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 Buddha The creator the giver But 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 2014
Centra 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!
The Lover
Thoughts of Love
Gentle loving calm,
Like warm winds on a summers
day
And yet racing
Like the tide running out to sea.
Miles between us
 Like the earth and the sun
And yet touching.
Dusk and Dawn written 1979 ish As the darkness starts to mask the day Shadows fall the fade Now only shade. The crisp edge of the November morn Sun searing through a pin hole dawn Another day has been spawned. Betwixt Night and Day Still soft quiet morn The earth doth stretch and yawn As whispering winds caress Momentarily time is suppressed. And the silver morning dew Glistens on the flora and fauna new Towering tranquil trees Address the birds amidst their leaves. Cock pheasant makes chase, decoy To outwit mans ploy Cunning no snare triggered Fox has not lingered. Perched a statue not of stone Watchful buzzard alone Eyes of hunting intent His sense of purpose ever-present Clouds of rising steam Percolating from the hedgerows green Rising morning golden sun The garter of dawn undone.
Passion burning boiling Brewing rampant breath, Fingers on thigh Sending rivers of shivers Running high Convulsing muscles knotting Scheming plotting. Excitement of youth Deceives the truth Pure animal attraction Drives you to distraction Resistance low You know the answer would not be no. Frivolous escapades Rejuvenate Complacent Lazy ways. Now knowing eyes smile Holding memories Close to heart Secret all the while, Never letting out Giving no home to doubt. As all together friends Fulfilment and Happiness depends. 1984
Where a poem’s name is underlined, you can click on the name to hear Hazel reciting it!