How many words?

How many words written
goodness only knows
It must be in the millions
with the poems and the prose
that all these years I’ve written
ever since I was a lad
Some words to cover sadness
but most to cover ‘glad’

First IV

4 of 12 in the Jemverse ’12 months III’ series

December is here and as the first arrives
I am content for Christmas
to make its annual entrance
November’s too early or course
But this year there were ads in October
which borders on a step too far.

Life

I love what I do
don’t get me wrong
I’m in quite a lovely position
As forty years done
with the grief and the fun
I enjoy in this time of transition

I put in the hours
use my mind to the full
enthusiastically driven
For the passion is there
as all are aware
from the help that I’ve often given

What of me now?

So now I am sixty
what of me now?
Do I wither, slip slowly away
Do I hold up a hand
resolute to my lot
to let youth in its turn have a say?

Far from it I cry
for I have a voice
and it’s louder than ever before
I’ve put in the years
shed blood, sweat and tears
and still I am ready for more

Mysterious

Starting to appear now
mysterious boxes
their fragrance filling the room
A promise of something
that’s getting quite close
in mid-December quite soon

What’s in the box?
my immediate question
unanswered of course for a while
The mystery continues
as excitement grows
coupled with winks and a smile

After the small hours

After the small hours we awaken
and with Wolfgang to Alcampo
Parking in our usual space, he leads the way
for he knows this place well
with coffee and conversation and
dog biscuits in a bowl by the bar

-13.11.19_00:35-

We all shine

Under the obscuring fog

Rain on the Moor

Here on the moor
Rain closes you down

Towing the line

I’m sitting in the garden
the sunshine’s nice and warm
Think perhaps I’ll stay a while
‘Cos this is what it’s for

-15.09.19_22:56-

I’ve reached the age

Where Death, once a seldom seen acquaintance

Our bit of land

Went to the allotment
it was quite overgrown
and not too much sign
of the things we had sewn

But after a while
spurred on by the weather
it was looking quite peachy
as we worked together

Enough rhubarb there
for a crumble or three
and the last of the lavender
just waiting for me

Twenty Hours

I’m on a train to Yorkshire
in bright sunshine for the day
Left when dawn was breaking
as it’s many miles away
Just shy of twenty hours
this working day for me
From the South Coast and then back again
by midnight hopefully

Past & Present

Small boy on the beach
throws pebbles in the air
Can you see the circles spreading
Have they caught you unaware?

Small boy on the beach
chases waves that turn and fall
Can you hear the distant murmer
of that far off echoed call?

Small boy on the beach
walks tightrope on the groyne
Here is my mind’s eye picture
as past with present joins

Redolent of the sun

Colours I remember
from when I was very young
Stayed with me into later years
with so many seasons come
But one has been a steadfast
for me a lucky fellow
The vibrancy of summer
captured in the colour yellow

For a smile

There are times such as these
when alone with my pen
and lavender scent in the air
I will, pensive of mind
sit here and unwind
and think of some verses to share

Tri-haiku XXI (The circle of life)

Pebble to water
Concentric rings dissipate
The circle of Life

Pebble vanishes
Concentric rings continue
The Circle of Life

Pebble thrown once more
Concentric rings multiply
The Circle of Life

Jemverse II

So I’ve been writing for a while
a poem every day
Been doing this for fifty years
so I’ve along the way
picked up (I’d say) a trick or two
over all that time
of how to craft words into verse
which flow and nicely rhyme

The Poet’s Pen

Never still the poet’s pen
always a verse to find
be it one that comes from life
or like this one, from the mind

Never still the poet’s pen
creativity abounds
cathartic is the rhythm
those pen to paper sounds

Never still the poet’s pen
for there’s so much to say
captured in a few short lines
and posted by the day

My sons tower over me

My sons tower over me
making me feel like I have shrunk

Life is like…

Life is like a flower of blue
with fragrance of the sun
Mysterious yet loveable
for me and everyone

Life is like a sky of blue
with clouds all fleecy white
Overwhelming yet with comfort
soothing everything in sight

Life is like a sea of blue
with waves of movement there
Boundless and yet welcoming
with love and care to share

Companion & Friend (Ruth)

As her eldest son, I wrote this as the eulogy for my late Mother’s life celebration on Friday 14 June last.

Ruth Eunice Shrimpton
Was Croucher, Nee Dainton
is having a whale of a time
So I thought I would capture a bit of her life
for you in some syntax and rhyme

Seven and eighty years is a
good innings to have for a start
And whilst we don’t have the time
for all of that here
These words have come from my heart

40

Forty years ago today
I put my white suit on
The one I bought for twenty quid
in Jayson’s Menswear from
And the only tie I think I had
was a black one from my Dad
and a pair of his old shoes
I’d kept since I was just a lad

Joie de vivre V

To be honest
there are many things
that bring a joie de vivre
as I get pleasure
from the simple things
I see each day ’round me

It is zest and
it is laughter
It’s both these things and more
It’s the essence
of the wonder
to find out what life is for

Joie de vivre III

Just a simple glimpse
of yellow does the trick
to bring a smile and tear

Fills my heart
with summer sun
and joie de vivre and cheer

Circles III

And so to circles
as another year passes
Milestones reached
and parties thrown
and friends reunited
over a beer
as the circle
keeps on turning

Circles II

And so to circles
Like life they follow
Ever turning
Always there
Never ending
Cyclical, they repeat
But, as a shadow
With a wry smile

Circles I

And so to circles
Spreading like raindrops
in summer puddles
they give to reflection
for a moment or two
And then they are gone
Like whimsy
on a sunshine day

Seeds of Everything

where swans flap not their wings
where waters keep no shadows
where eyes see nothing