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

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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

Bouncing

Wolfgang was bouncing
and after his ball
We caught him on camera
which was a good call
Sometimes he caught it
sometimes he missed
But we always praised him
and gave him a kiss
Cos doggos need praising
and knowing you’re happy
Quite easy to do with
so bouncy a chappie

Certainty?

I am I think
and almost sure
that this what
my life is for
I think I’ve solved
the mystery
But then again
could just be me

Farewell but not goodbye

Today we say farewell to you
but definitely not goodbye
For some day we will meet again
when comes the day we die

So here’s to you our Mother dear
we’ll miss you, that’s the truth
But you are in a better place
A smiling John and Ruth

Reason?

I wonder if maybe
But then again why?
Is there a reason
for me to comply?
Perhaps I should simply
continue and then
just be myself
and always depend?
For that’s often wiser
and safer somehow
Simply be me
for the here and the now

Spaced?

Tiring, this feeling
of being spaced out
It’s as if I am here
and yet there is doubt
Perhaps I am somewhere
else altogether
But I’m not sure that’s true
or even if whether
it’s right that I should be
elsewhere but right here
All that I know is
it’s not all that clear

The red and the gold

The sunset is over
the fading has passed
the evening slip-slides away
We’ve said our goodbyes
and shared in the peace
that we saw at the end of your day

The red and the gold
have flooded the sky
The evening of life is now done
We’ve each kissed your head
and held your sweet hand
as the end of your life has now come

Heaven for all

Let’s face it, its only
when we get there we’ll know
at the end of the race
who will get there to go

But I’m these days convinced
that there’ll be no exceptions
for that is a failing
of mankind’s perception

Maybe?

Maybe today
It’s hard to know
The change is daily
Time to go
They’re waiting there
quite patiently
with open arms
I’m sure you see
Maybe today
the time has come
when you will know
the living’s done

Perhaps?

I read to you
whilst there you slept
Perhaps you felt
the tears I wept
Perhaps you heard
It’s hard to say
But I continued
anyway

-06.06.19_15:10 –

Ghost in the window

The echo of life III

If a moment pauses
and time stands still
If an eye sees
and memories are captured
Then I am the echo of life
Reflecting beauty
I bring contentment

The echo of life II

If a story speaks
and brings a tear
spilled out without reserve
from an eye that knows pleasure
If a landscape catches
and a breath is held long
whilst a moment is safisfied
Then I am the echo of life
Relecting beauty
I bring contentment

The echo of life I

If a brook gurgles
and a low tide laps
If a breeze whispers
and a sunset smiles
Then I am the echo of life
Reflecting beauty
I bring contentment

A 60th tale

A day out in Lewes
with the girls in the sun
Browsing antique shops
and all having fun
Here for Sal’s sixtieth
Celebrations start here
Two months for us all
in this special year

Heaven, waiting, sings

It’s peaceful here, these darkened rooms
this ward, this evening hour
A deepened sleep. Breath in, breath out
from this still fading flower

Autumn’s come to this long life
as here we sit and wait
knowing that the time is close
The hour now is late

Life music again

No.4 of 6 in “The Music” series from Jemverse

Quite often then
my eyes will dance
‘tho my feet
are slower there
For there is music
all around
in life most
everywhere

In the garden with Chris

Sunday in the garden
with jazz and sun and beer
And family, conversation
pavlova and good cheer
Laughter on the Springtime air
from here this afternoon
We’ve been out since breakfast
and evening’s coming soon
But Chris Barber and his clarinet
still has a voice to hear
so we’ll all stay a little while
and have another beer

Heart

every silence has a heart
so does every stone
some peel with time
some need a hand

Jumping Patterdales

Walking on the riverbank
with a jumping Patterdale
On a sunday afternoon
with a waggy tail
He’s happy to be there
as are we this lovely day
The old Tollbridge behind us
for a wander and a play

-24.04.19_00:19-

spearflower berries
tempting the sparrows with their color –
graveyard in the mist

© Yozakura
Silently they watch
Life flittering here and there
Stone remembrances.

 

–my response for–

Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille

 

Revisiting a Pocketful of Pebbles

1 of 12 in the Jemverse series ‘Back to the Sea’

I have a pocket full of pebbles
But some are no longer there
Weighty, they burn a hole and yet
Their tactile pleasure keeps them there. For a while.

My pebbles are selected well
I will see them and feel them and then
When I am sure that one is right
I will add it to the others where it becomes a friend.

Curtain Call

Once more, the roar of applause thaws his heart and makes him wish he didn’t have to depart this stage. Where had the years gone? He wonders. How did each day, so long, become faint flashes of memory? An ambling trajectory of wasteful debauchery, his life has passed him by like a distant plane in the sky. And now, as he clocks out of consciousness and stares across an endless necropolis, the clapping masses have gone silent. His heart is no longer raging and defiant. Overhead, the black curtain is falling and the blissful escape of the void is calling.

Friendship

I met a friend
he wasn’t well
we chatted for a while
And when I left
he said he felt
quite better with a smile

About a journey

I wrote about a journey
I started way back when
the words that found their way
to the pages from my pen
were from an adolescent
who hadn’t yet found life
yet wrote as though he knew it all
through torment, angst and strife