I don’t know about wind
Apart from the hot wind I speak
About the toxic gases
Wind turbines allegedly leak.
No one knows windmills
As much as knowledgeable me
They go round and round
Sometimes on land, or sea.
They make them in China and Germany.
In America they make about none America makes a president
Where everyone can have a gun.
Twas the night before Christmas
And I’d not bought a jot.
For my entire family
Presents were still to be got.
So off to the garage
I flew like a flash
Hoping id been paid
And had enough cash.
24 hour garage,
A god send indeed.
For practical gifts
Like charger and lead.
My bestest thinking cap
I donned on my head
The first item I purchased
For Uncle Fred…
A can of lynx,
A choice of all two,
A quandary,
What would I do?
The wide range of choice
In this 24 hour spar
And settled I did,
On lynx Africa.
My mother, my father
I still had to buy
This seasonal pressure
I wanted to cry.
I paused for a moment
And took a deep sigh,
And readied myselfFor the next Christmas buy.
And off on a frenzy
I continue to shop
Onward and upwards
Shop till I drop.
My mother some hair dye
To deal with her roots.
My father some kiwi polish
For his very fine boots.
Aunt Mable loves allsorts
Plenty of things,
So into the basket
A reduced DVD of Mary Poppins.
Then last of all my sister.
The perfect item before my very eyes,
Best before the 24th, A six pack of mince pies!
All smug with my purchases
This Christmas shopping aint hard
And to top it off, a 99p extra value Christmas card.
Millions of years ago this day
A jurassic time indeed
There was an ethical dinosaur
That insisted on ethical feed.
The climate, it was changing
The food supply was low
The weather was getting different
With this new jurassic snow.
Tony the T-Rex decided
That climate change to beat
He’d switch to nuts and berrys
Cutting out triceratops meat.
The other Rex laughed at him
Picking nuts with tiny hands
Whilst the other Rex continued
Plundering the changing lands.
No one listened to tony
With his radical new found views
The word fake wasn’t around then
So they called it erroneous news.
Then came the extension event
Qicker than a raptor blinked
No more were the dinosaurs;
Deceased, mortified, extinct.
65 million years later
New dinosaurs exist
They ignore the lesson.
The point they totally missed.
I live in a world where a president mocks a child
Where infants speak injustice, standing side by side.
Where money makes decisions at the expense of what is good.
And greed and want and indulgence stand, where once morals stood.
Where men kicking spheres are worshiped and adored..
Paid millions by the Topsy-turvy hoard
Topsy-turvy thinking in a Topsy-turvy world
Better off with filters than reality unfurled.
Living for the moment, thinking tiny thoughts.
“it’s fine” just ignore the science reports.
Imagine for one moment.. That we switched the way we think
What world would see, opening eyes from dreamy blink.
Ah but you are dreamers living in my world
Keep your thinking wrapped and not unfurled.
For you live in my Manor, this Topsy-turvy place
You’re not welcome to show your subversive face.
I will suppress you with your well meaning chat
For this is Topsy-turvy world we’ll have no more of that.
Fake news, fake news
Oh what to be believe
A political narrative,
From their political sleeve.
Conjuring reality
Spinning a line
It’s OK people
We’ll be fine
Then when the end has approached
The environment raped
The aftermath
Of our political date.
When the poor are poorer
The elite are full
Sat on the toilet
Emergency cord to pull.
It snaps in our hands
No rescue to come.
Fake news fake news
Doesn’t fit what I believe
My rules my reality
What I perceive.
Fake bullet, fake trajectory
Lined with my head
Tell me fake gunman.
“why ain’t I fake dead?”
Fake news, fake news
Oh what to be believe
A political narrative,
From their political sleeve.
Conjuring reality
Spinning a line
It’s OK people
We’ll be fine
Then when the end has approached
The environment raped
The aftermath
Of our political date.
When the poor are poorer
The elite are full
Sat on the toilet
Emergency cord to pull.
It snaps in our hands
No rescue to come.
Fake news fake news
Doesn’t fit what I believe
My rules my reality
What I perceive.
Fake bullet, fake trajectory
Lined with my head
Tell me fake gunman.
“why ain’t I fake dead?”
People, are different
People, are the same
People, are individuals
Some people use their brain
People make us happy
People make us sad
People make the culture
Sometimes people are bad.
People make the world go round
People make it stop
People live in valleys
Sometimes on mountain top.
The point is we’re all people
We all do different things
This world’s rich diversity
That’s what people brings
Illusions of powerful men
Behind smoke and mirror hide
Rampant rhetoric roar!
Delusion by their side
Hidden that they lied.Grasping of powerful men
Tred the innocence under feet
Devious devil’s devour!
Blood stain throne, their seat
Down the innocent beatConscience of powerful men
Absent from their mind
Nothing, nil, nowhere
No moral can they find
Leaders of the blindSilence, still, steady
When the will is ready
To cry injustice loud
The martyrs meet their fate
We were just too late
And go back to watching telly.
In a little town
where dreams died
There are a few
From failure hide
They dare to hope
Refuse to die
And look up
To see the sky.
Black widow barbie
Plastic parasitic predator
Waiting, watching, in snaring
Fake smile, eyes uncaring.
Angelic demeanour
Polymorphic rapport
Killing things of beauty.
A rigor mortise whore.
Majestic giants of Peruvian air
Soaring gliding on thermal rise
Carefree canyon kings
Suncast shadows beneath them lies.
Free, untamed, spread their wings
They epitomise better things.
Darkness and light
They tried to meet
When light tried to find,
Darkness would retreat
Try as she might
Light searched in vain
This darkness mythical,
Light searched all the same.
As day searched for night,
An enigma apart.
The legend of night
Captivity would depart.
Light never saw darkness
Polar friends
Perpetual quest
It never ends.
One day light went out.
Darkness he stayed.
His life without light
Was how he’s made.
Somethings in life
Can never be.
For where there’s light
No darkness we’ll see.
Paths we walk them.
Walk them day by day.
Sometimes along the path
We rest for a time and stay.
The gradient can slow us
Or accelerate our pace
Sometimes we’re rained on
Sometimes feel radiance upon our face.
Facing forward, backwards
Up, down, side to side
Reflective, ignorant
Sometimes we hide
The path we take
A choice from A to B.
Sometimes certain,
Other times don’t see.
Your path, may be different
From what others take
But sometimes they cross
Paths our lives do make.
Twas the eve before the big one
The Dragon verse St George
The men of Battle meet
In the principality forge
Many Don the uniform
For the game of games.
The Scarlet rugby Jersey
And a pint of reverend James.
From Monmouth to St Davids
And Penywaun miner’s club in between
A sea of crimson welshmen
Gathering are seen.
Calon lan and Cwm Rhondda
Sung from gathered crowd
Until the whistle sounds
Hymns and arias oh so loud.
Come you whitened chariots
To the Dragons ground
Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau
Rings proudly,
All around.
All us Welsh folk
Hoping England fails
What ever happens
You’ll know you’ve been to Wales.
I’d like to say something
But not quite the way I should.
I wanted to say “posture”
Instead said “how they stood”
Words escaped like justice.
Finding the words to say
Not quite what I meant
Saying it a different way.
Expression of my essence
The person who is me
The expressions different
From what others see.
The silent poet composed words within his head.
Nothing spoken, nothing said.
Observing life, the colours in the grey
Didn’t speak, didn’t say.
Witnessed the moments passed by from other folk.
Didn’t utter, never spoke
Didn’t wish to offend or provoke
Sentences of silence
Uttered outwardly within
Questioned his reality
A post modernity recluse
Attended trendy parties
Wearing a fashionable noose.
They didn’t say anything
Were they even there?
Sat and drank whisky
Into the empty glass did stare.
The submarine Captain ordered a standard sub.
There in started his problems, after he set sail.
Twas on his maiden journey
That the systems started to fail.
The crew were utterly petrified
For at 500 fathoms sprung the leaks
The crew were beside themselves
As over tannoy, the Captain speaks.
“Men I’m awfully sorry.
It’s my grammatical error that’s caused out fate
I’m such a foolish Captain
And now it’s far too late!
For when I ordered a standard sub”
To the crew he pandered
” I didn’t write standard sub
Instead I wrote substandard”
Raindrops patter upon the playground pools.
The gangs of kids like monkeys in the zoo.
Fastinated, encapsulated, imagination unbound.
The boys play army with an armoury of sticks.
Tripping up each other, for thrills and kicks.
Clusters of children with idiosyncratic minds
Each their imagination open to unwind.
Free in the playground, playing out their life.
Where is that playground in our latter times.
Hidden, obscured, amidst the growing rules.
Conforming cajoling rules that prepare us well.
For working to pay the mortgage in the houses that we dwell.
Rember the playground where we left our unbound dreams?
The playground full of hope, potential packed in all its seams.
Stop this silly playing and put on this grey suit.
Forget your ambition, your child thoughts mute!
Join the race of rats and scurry well made runs.
Put down your sticks and pick up the real guns.
Dare you dream? With innocence of mind?
Who knows what future we may find?
Jump in pools of puddles and Muddy that grey suit.
The leaf falls from the tree,
When the time is right.
This is the story prior
To its fall from living height.
Twas the spring in sunshine welcome
That its birth and life did start
And breath and living
From its chlorophyll heart.
It gave the air we breathe
As spring sprang forth to summer.
Journey to another season
Before its final slumber.
And long, that summer’s happy days
Basked in such golden light
Then summer to autumn
Ready its fall from height.
In the senescence of life
Oh contemplating leaf
Bid farewell.
Leaving autumn grief.
Laid to rest on earthy ground
Autumn turned to winter
As gently snow was found.
Then as the circle was complete
Winter giving birth to spring
Something miraculous
Again a new born thing.
The new leaf born
At that very height
Welcomed by the new spring sun.
Basking in its light.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
“Oi” said the cloud with abrupt distain
“I don’t wander mate
But do occasionally rain”
The poet taken a back
A talking cloud
Was it in his head?
Or said out loud?
“Oi I spoke to you
Poet chap,
I had to correct your
Erroneous crap”
“we’re shoved around
Like sardines tinned,
Jostled, bunched
By natures wind”
“Pardon” speaketh
The poet perplexed
For that’s how its written
In E Olde texts.
“You heard” said
The not so wondering cloud
“It’s the wind
That determines where we’re found.
Not a choice
that’s mine to make
But predetermined
Where the wind does take!”
“HARDLY A wandering
More a shove
In the atmosphere
Way above.”
“we’re not lonely either!”
The clouds lament
“We’re often together
Where we are sent”
And Wordsworth
Not wanting a cloud to fight
Wrote about daffodils
That came to sight.
For daffodils are less philosophical than clouds.
A much more appreciative crowd.
Clear dark velvet sky
Thousand stars twinkling bright
One shineth intensely brilliant
On that Christmas night.
Shining compass like
To humble lowly place,
To humanity divine,
Upon a new born’s face.
Ox and ass witness bore
The miracle of birth
Hope of hope unveiled
A hope upon the earth.
What shepherds gazed
A story made
Was born
This Christmas night.
Smug sanctimonious satisfaction
As I rest at ease tonight.
For today I conquered the shopping,
Before the Christmas fight.
Sipping gin and tonic
Thinking I’m the knees of bees
Wait until Christmas day
When I’ve forgotten the batteries.
The eternal timer finally sounds
The final act of dying.
All alone with self
No tears no crying
It’s not sad to die
When sat upon the chair
Practical dying
The dying of ones hair
Dedicated to Mary
Who was dying alone this evening
The last gun fell silent,
After 9 million soldiers fell.
The sound of silence
After the rage of hell.
To stand in no man’s land
Your feet in poppy crimson red.
Listen to the silence
Of 9 million Whispering from the dead.
The silent whisper loudly
From graves to be marked in white
With silence we remember
The cost of the great wars fight.
Once each year they speak to us
And quietly silent say..
“Remember this moment”
“11th hour, 11th month 11th day”
It’s 10 to 4 and almost time to go
10 minutes away from the home time door.
Tick tock tick tock I am counting down.
The Friday feel, to smile from frown.
The clock is passing, what shall I do?
5 minutes more and no more blue.
It’s getting closer and closer still,
3 minutes left and time to kill.
Almost here, with moments to go
1 minute now, before the home time door.
This poem has taken 10 minutes of time.
And I’ve killed and filled by penning rhyme.
Bye bye, now its 4
At the end of this sentence
I’m through the door 🚪
Our hearts go out to the fallen,
And we bow our head in shame
That lessons haven’t been learned
The news sadly the same.
Why why America?
Do you allow so many guns?
Will now you listen?
To save your daughters and sons.
Memories of the old times
Fondness gazing back
Precomplexity moments
Only wisdom did I lack.
Running the valley pathway
Through streets and mountain way.
Chatting on the steps
Until the cease of day.
Random conversations
Accompanied looks of distain
And lacking wisdom
Not thinking with my brain.
Was it distain or teasing
As daylight to dusk did turn.
Not in my youthfulness
Did I ever learn.
But as I grew older,
Along a complex path
I still look back with fondness
At two teens, innocent laugh.
Parallel lives that journey
Connected along the way.
But no longer Precomplexity
As life goes forward
Life’s complications has its way.
Could I change it?
If time travel button press?
If I ask the question?
Would the answer be yes.
Gentle wind of change, that whispers like a prayer.
Slowly usher with love filled palm
To a new world, still yet unimagined
Steadily resistant to corrupt ignorant mistakes.
Fortifying the resolve of a good man.
Time tenderly ticks tiredly tenacious.
As the road seems ever long changing quietly without notice..
Standing at the apex of history.
A new imagined place.
Where is the enquiring mind?
Nostalgia baked in the plaice of lies
Packaged served.
Stuck to our eyes.
What do we see?
If we see at all?
Ingested, infested
Make our world small.
Afraid to awake the enquiring mind.
Scared to be open to what we might find.
Unfiltered absorbance of multinarrative.
Unquestioning digestion of 21st manor.
Scofing and gorging
From the media table.
Breathe, step back,
If we are able.
Caught in the tide of information flow.
Tossed along where’er, don’t know.
Throw me the life line of an enquiring mind
Untie the snare that bind,
And let me see the Sun.
The agent proclaimed when showing buyers around
“it’s deceptively Spacious” for there’s room to be found.
In nocks and in crannies there’s plenty of space
Take a look, take your time, view at your pace!
What is deceptively Spacious? A molecular trick?
To entice the buyer to this house to pick.
Can I squeeze in this cove, a wardrobe so large?
“Of course” says the agent resembling Nigel Farage.
And you buy that small house so deceptively large.
Mansion inside, outside a barge
Full to the rafters piled with your shit
Squashing in furniture to tightly fit.
“Deceptively Spacious” is what the agent said.
The reality “Deceptively Spacious” is the estate agents HEAD!!
Friday the gateway to weekend
From Monday foe my Friday friend.
How I longed for your company sweet.
Kick off my shoes, put up my feet.
The comfort of Saturday morn
The lay in bed and yawn.
Sunday the final day of rest
Until Monday and rat race fest
A day like no other
two towers in the sky
The day they fell
Left us asking why
Like brothers standing together
Fell at each others side
We never forget
Mothers fathers brothers sisters son and daughters that died.
September 11th
Forget we never will.
Remembering the fallen
In silence standing still.
To be Welsh is to be excited at a bridge.
Homeward bound to play a toll,
Sing to keep a welcome,
As over the seven you roll.
To the welcome of gathered clouds
To the valley rain so near
A few miles to the land,
Land held so dear.
Then arrive apon the hallowed ground.
Your beloved Wales is found.
And sigh of relief expel.
Relax, and know. All is well.
Silence
Broken
Bang
Begins
Birth
Baby
Biography
Buried
Silence
Hope and Despair travelled the road,
They walked side by side.
Sometimes Despair rushed along
Hope would appear to hide.
Despair would race
At superhuman pace
Leaving hope without a trace,
Despair arrived in a lonely place.
Despair panicked, Calling out for Hope
Despair gasped for breath, feeling he’d choke.
Hope wasn’t far behind
But Despair in his panic blind
Couldn’t see Hope,
He couldn’t find.
Hope gently touched Despair.
Despair was glad Hope was there.
In a small Idyllic town
Lived a small Idyllic man
Who you saw driving
A small Idyllic van.
And in his van Idyllic
He kept his Idyllic gift
And attend the lost and weary
Offering them a lift.
Enter they would downtrodden
And spill out all their woes
He would lend a listening ear
As they cried and spoke their lows.
Out spilling hearts of trouble
To the Idyllic little man
As they bare their problems
Ridding in the Idyllic little van.
And listening intently
With word of comfort here and there.
The Idyllic little man
Would show a little care.
And when the journey ended
And the destination reached
They knew they’d be listened to
And not patronised or preached.
Some would thank him
As they left the Idyllic van
But all would receive a gift
From the small Idyllic man.
He’d open the back
Pulling out the Idyllic gift.
It was a little box
So heavy, they couldn’t lift.
They’d say “how can it take it?”
To the small Idyllic man
With a smile he’d put it back.
In his small Idyllic van.
“You don’t” he said
“I keep it because I cared”
“it contains all the worries
And problems that you shared”
Slightly lighter they travelled onwards
But more freely they ran
Because of a listening friend.
Who’s your Idyllic little man?
Empathic travel along life’s Road
Walking in shoes not owned.
All perspective other than own
To allow your mind to feel,
To touch, to know that other
The love of child by mother,
The loyal stance of brother,
The ernest lament of another.
To walk in shoes not my own
The weary heart alone.
Joy filled sunshine of family life
Heartache of family strife.
Ups and downs. Ins and outs.
The raving lunatic that shouts.
Can you step out of life that’s yours
And feel momentarily someone else’s cause.
To dare from insular shell to crawl
To feel for someone else’s fall.
To share happiness with no jealous trait.
To be a solid empathic mate.
This is Empathy Road.
It’s too hot to write a poem
In this heat wave, at this time.
Too lethargic and weary,
To put words to rhyme.
If only I had the energy
To find a creative spurt
In the blistering heat
And dry cracked dirt.
Where are you my energy?
Sapped by prolonged heat!
Unable to write poetry
From my tired seat.
Too hot and bothered
Too finish the next line
I’ll just sit here drinking
My glass of red warm….
Quiet and loud
went on a date
Quiet waited.
Loud was late.
Loud, triumphantly entered
Causing a stir.
Quiet sat there,
Smiling, all demur.
“Sorry I’m late”
Boomed loud all excited
Quiet his charm
Didn’t fight it.
“Can I get you a drink? ”
Loud asked quiet
“May I have coke?
And please may it be diet? ”
“Bar keep a coke!
And make it diet!
For my lovely date!
Wonderful quiet!”
They tried to date,
But it was a disasterous riot.
Because where loud is;
You can’t have quiet!
