Little Tommy lay still in his hospital bed. In the drugged misty drowsiness filling his head He sees, slowly emerging from a golden haze A shadowy shape that captures his curious gaze. A small tank engine, golden funnelled and bright blue Penetrates the fogginess and comes into view. ‘The Magic Carpet’ is emblazoned as …
In summer heats, when the sultry air is breathlessly still, I lie in sun-dappled shade by the glen’s sparkling rill. In the silent stillness, tall grassy ferns move apart And a nervous, quivering butterfly gives a start. The bluebell carpet moves and sways to a force unseen To human eye – but the blackbird sees with vision …
There must be an end to every storm When the heavy clouds are torn asunder And sunlight transforms rain into colour. There must be an end to the storm When the lightless thunder storm rolls away Leaving all sparkling with a fresh newness. There must be an end to the storm Leaving behind …
The trees stand gaunt and swaying in the wind Black silhouettes against darkening skies. The wind whipped seas pound the rocky shore, With an incessant frothy busyness, Obsessive, demanding, anxious, grasping. The waves roll in with exuberant roar Then retreat with a long and mournful sigh, Like the ebb and flow of warring armies. Overhead, …
It’s a painful agony to be ignored, Eyes politely turned away; total exclusion. Crowds are lonely places of mass self absorption; Myriad eyes look but do not see the lonely soul. To break into that circle of self-centredness Opens the door to embarrassing hostility. Like being a lone supporter at an away game, The …
Slender, fragile, radiantly pure; Early springs young supple herald. Piercing an icy winter-scape, Promising warmer days to come. Bobbing its snowy head to and fro, Bending in compliant agreement With every challenging wind. A lonesome survivor of tough days Breaking through winter’s chill mantle With a message of persistence Fresh hope and everything anew.