Oh this is such a happy morn ,
the grains are ripe and her beauty is bliss ,
for this morning she planted a kiss upon my lips .

O beauty that is as ripe as the day ,
the July morning sun will rise ,
In greatest spender,
before our eyes .

For we shall  lye before it shall appear ,
in fields of sunflowers dancing here .
And you will wear
nothing but a smile ,
for grains were ripened for such a time as this ,
to avail her beauty before my eyes ,
just as the sun is about to rise

I wrote a poem today ,
but now my words have flown away ,
slipped off the paper and said ,
“ once we were part of you ,
but now we are dead “

Just like the summer to Autumn this day
‘ where hast the spring gone ?
for one day Autumn will appear and give breath to my song .


And Autumn with its baritone  voice
will end my  soprano harmonies ,
It will be said .

And so my virtuoso performance must end ,
and after this night a little darkness must descend..

But if those words should one day appear ,
I think they would be most happiest here.

my twin in the mirror didst I see standing alone in front of me ?
a shattered piece of glass ,
taken from a piece of art .

But if that piece of shattered glass wasn’t me ,
than who on earth could it be ?

I gazed upon its reflection still
and pondered who and why ,
could this be ,
forever looking back at me ?
For if that glass wasn’t me ,
a stranger then must he be ?

And if I had seen my reflection still ,
a shard of glass ,
from which my
blood should pour Untill it fills my kitchen floor .

And if i saw my reflection still ,
a man before me so pale and ill.


And so.i. took a boat to row across a lake ,
and staring back was the man I saw ,
In the waters but not as he was before .
I smiled at him ,
and he smiled back at me ,
could this be my twin ,
Staring back at me ?

And as i rowed there came a thick pea fog ,
and the lake felt like a soup ,
then came the mud
and then came a thud !
And on that island I fell in love with the moon ,
her beauty shone down ,
and showed me in her fairest light .
And so now and again her beauty would fade ,
and cast me back to my darker days .

And i never again saw the man who stared back at me ,
and to this day ,
I can never figure out how this could be ?
Untill one night staring back at me ,
did I see my own reflection in the sea.

Lost my poem oh what a shame ,
and now it’s time to start again ?
For if you find it sing it a song ,
for what I’m doing won’t take long

If love has never ending dreams ,
If some should die ,
and some should live .
If Earth and Sky should be as one ,
then melt into the setting sun .
If ghostly shadows of our past,
should reclaim our souls at last .
And hopeless dreams could one day become .
like earth and sky ,
Moon and sun .
And as we walk ,
by our selves or with a friend ,
and the world looks like it’s about to end .
A baby cries ,
not one but two ,
a girdling and spluttering now splits
the earth in two .
And  enters  in
a new born babies cries
New life for that. Poor  mothers crying eyes ,
once red with pain ,
now in her eyes hide a softer blue ,
now as deep
as only her babies new .

Won’t you sit with me for a while ,
and read the words written long ago ,
In books of profetic words of love .
that shine down from a world above ,
to every child that walks in love .
To every soul that is in distress ,
let it be their  s o s .
So when the world looks black and grey ,
a light shines in hope for another day ,
To every child who wants to grow ,
a smile will greet them this I know .

Don’t let me fall beneath the crack ,
for if I do There’s no way back .
For they are not the happy ones ,
the blessed smiling all knowing ones. .
And if there are times
When nothing works ,
and life is seen as nothing but a curse .
Then read with me just for a while ,
for that alone will make me smile.

You might not remember my name ,
but i am still the same .
I am The bright sunlight before the morning cloud ,
the silence before the storm ,
the wicker and the worm .

I am in the bough of a tree ,
that whispers through its falling leaves .
that branch when you were a child when you used to seesaw on
me for a time .

For I am The word that sharpens you’re tongue ,
before a sentence has begun .

I am the arrow that is plucked from you’re bow ,
that tells you’re target where to go .

For I am the oxygen you breath in the night ,
You’re unspoken  thoughts both in the day and of the night .
like you and I on a carousel on a hot summers day ,
those dreams will fly away .


I am in the rainbow that
that spreads far and wide ,
that tell the rain clouds
where to hide.

I am in the words “ I can’t be there “ ,
when that train pulls away ,
and you’re clasping thin air .
When the fumes from the train ,
fill you’re lungs full of smoke .
and the cabbie says “ just you my dear ?

For when you are alone by the grave of you’re friend ,
I will be in the honeysuckle that flowers .

And when you’re world is full of sorrow
I am the binding that holds tomorrow.
I will be the silver lineing when the clouds are still there .
I can be the ray of sunlight that beams from afar ,
that hears you’re prayers ,
that shines down on you’re coffin ,
when heavens doors are ajar .

Did I tell you that once I heard a blackbird sing ?
for it had in its beak a golden ring .
And upon that ring there lay a crown inlaid with rubies and emeralds all around .
And apron that crown I placed upon you’re head was all the words
I wish i hadn’t said .
For love is so full of hurtful things ,
that dig into you’re heart like diamond rings .

O I once heard a blackbird sing ,
It sang to me about all those troubling things .
that made you cry ,
and made you mad ,
yet you were the most precious gift I ever had .

And that golden ring you wore that blackbird had upon his claw ,
was tinged with sadness like it was before .
for love with all its sins to bear ,
it’s rugged cross ,
It’s nails of steel .

So if we hold each other tight ,
the dreams we held each single night ,
as we kissed and said good night ,
our hopes that love could never die .

And as morning broke a blackbird sang ,
It sang of all the joys and tears we held in our hearts for many years ,
and we just sat there and filled with sorrow ,
for the joys and pains of our tomorrows .
The poets words they flew away ,
as we thanked the Lord for another day.
And the rose bush that bore the scars ,
that held the ring ,
and the rugged crown,
a blackbird perched on it for a while ,
then flew away ,
and made you smile.

Poetry of love that moves every part ,
that is the very being of her beating heart .
It holds  the tender stem and plants the root ,
and shows the starling where to find her seeds  .
It charms the sparrows from their nests in blind despair,
For nothing is too much to bear ,
for it even holds your hand when you climb the stair
and holds the brush that combs  your hair .

For poetry is everywhere,
It’s in the blades of grass that sway in the winds
It’s in the sleet and snow that winter brings .

It’s in the times when everything was said ,
and you just wanted to go to bed .

Far above what nature brings the lilies the daisies and her  daffodils.
In all these wondrous things ,when
Poetry sings it lights the way for falling stars ,
The crimson ray ,
the velvet fox gloves ,
to the man who says “ I’m not in love “
For she will still whisper ,
“ above all. these things you’re days my love are not yet done “.

Time  to have another drink
This ruddy boats about to sink

How blessed the night ,
that’s just before dawn ,

That draws out the light ,
Out of the vastness of space .

Which joys are brought forth by the pitter patter of the rains .



The unseen man who walks by day
Who is broken inside .                                                                ­                For his lady has left in a terrible rage
For
Now  he drinks whisky all day and all night ,
and keeps a bottle of pills and a gun in a draw by his side .
                    
Blessed be the child who kneels at his bed
his candel burns brighter than the rest it is said .


Yet The candel that still flickers at night ,
when the widow
has no food to eat ,
and her children are out begging in the street .

The desperate child ,
Who has nowhere to hide

Blessed be the mountains so vast and wide
the unknown universe that has yet to be seen .
That we might one day figure out the wonders of God ,
In th£ termites and butterflies,
One the harvester of tears ,
the other ,who gives wonderment to the child ,
who chases butterflies in a field .

Blessed be the harvester the sower  of seeds ,
who gives hope to the lost ,
for he is the giver of dreams .

As we walked I wondered if this Avenue of trees ,
where birds of paradise were lined in cages hung amgst the leaves ,
as far as the eye could  see .
Is that what you think of me ?
That love we share ,
In birds so rare ? said I
“ My darling don’t arose love “ she said
for these things are for heavenly creatures,
such things are not meant for me
for I am a creature of the dead “
and with that she shrugged her head .
“ But I do love you and that’s with all my heart
and if that were true in what you said .
Then Why does my heart leap like a young buck before a small bud
can reach  the sun ?





That is when the dark heavens awoke,
to thick dark clouds ,
and puffs of smoke ,
Where nothing would ever be the same .
Thou lighting bolts from heaven called out her name.

Lucinda I weep for you “
as  the might oak was split in two ,
It’s bark burns in  front of you Lucinda ..
as Men and women arise from where they slept .
and thunder bolts of dazzling ray ,
With a smell of death from beneath my belly wails ,
as she walked away .

And my walls of stone have been brought down ,
they lay before me on the ground .

And where is the sun ?
the moon and the stars ?
How the loved ones gazed apon.

their dazzling array .
and the sun by day ,
for they have vanished from our sight ,
thou it be the dead of night .

For the corn is wet and no good to eat ,
all ruined in this Bog of peat .

Yet I walk and must never stop ,
bid it not this journey must end .

Make haste that I should find my friend .
Are you there is that you ?
a horse and cart I meet along my way ,
but they are in great haste and don’t delay
The kings post must not be late “


The birds are circling far above ,
a young Buck that once bound and  lept  for love
now lies dead in a field of mud.

And I grew weary when will this end ,
to walk alone without my friend .?

So I looked out into the yonder road
and yet I did not see her ,
not now ,
not then ,
not ever again ?  .

A water droplet from a rose bush ,
Once fell onto the ground ,
for once it had withered
starved and died .
it’s form was unrecognisable ,
from its romantic story books of love .
Where the fine Prince offered up a rose ,
to his princess with the flickering eyes
Two lovers hand in hand ,
looked up into paradise ,
as two lover birds perched on high sang softy. their  Song of love .

Nobody wanted to pick its buds ,
nobody pruned it’s stem .

Untill  a little girl with a watering can ,
and a red ribbon in her hair ,
came along and with a song , filled it full of love .

Each flower bloomed ,
and she name each colour
by its looks .
This ones pink ,
that ones yellow ,
now what shall I do with you ?

The last rose said
Well I can make you cry
With joy ,
or I can make you very  sad ?
But If your friend can fill your heart with all these things now
That won’t be so bad ?

Well my boyfriend name is red ,
so  name  you after him ,
You will be my pride and joy ,                                                               and I will teach you how to sing,
leave you in my mothers vase ,
and water you with love .

For I shall never let you wither and die ,
and you will fill our hearts with
Joy .

Then one day Reds roots began to wilt ,
and Red  the boyfriend played with his red little truck ,
more than gardening with Liv .
Their friendship died and the rose was thrown  out into  the bin ..

For love is such a fragile thing it’s petals aren’t meant to last .
But when it does what joys it brings ,
to everybody’s hearts.

Where the  river bends ,
and fishing boats were moored ,
for it is by these tranquil waters I have seen her walk .

Now There was a house apron a hill ,
Where the rich found time to mame and ****.
where the foxgloves lined up  all in a row .
Underneath there were fields
and meadows a glow .
Where men who owned but a farthing in rent ,
who toiled for their Lords ,
every day the good Lord sent .

And there was a river where I first met you ,
for you’re eyes were as bright as. the flowers in you’re basket ,
fragile and blue .
“ Tuppence a ha penny each one in bloom
There are fox gloves and roses ,
both picked for spring ,
and daffodils a plenty all singing in tune ,”

half way to paradise if i bought the moon
I thought to myself as I stood by you’re side .

But I wanted from you a flower so dainty and rare ,
tucked away in your basket ,
you were hoping I wouldn’t see it there .

“ Oh please not that one you said with a smile
That one I have set aside ,
You see the man who picks that flower ,
it is with him I must reside .
please buy from me  foxgloves or a rose ,
purple white or yellow and red ,
for there are so many “

So I bid her farewell
and off she went ,
to find her lover by the banks of the Afon Nedd .

And as I was walking away the men soon came ,
In search of a flower as rare as her name.

A stranger rode with his lover into town ,
to buy a flower of love .
For he heard long ago
from a place he didn’t know ,
that if you bought foxgloves and roses ,
from the Afron Nedd
You will end up in bed !


“ Oh won’t you buy this one sir I picked it just for you ?
for you are the one that makes my heart go boom ,
Up to castell  Nedd where the flowers are of violet , pink , and blue .”

“ But mame said the.man my wife wants th3 Roses and foxgloves
of love  not your dainty rare flower O heavens above .”

So now she goes rambling I have seen her alone ,
alone with her most precious flower all on her own .
Walking through the beacons alone and forlorn ,
when I take my horse a riding though fields and planes .

And I still love her dearly if she would just give me a chance ,
to pick that dainty flower ,
and unpick the lock on her heart .

Her cheaks were as red as a rose the day that we met ,
like two peaches yet red in colour ,                                                           and.  as soft as her breast .
Yet the chandelier above our heads
was as dazzling as her looks .
But for all my charming manors  she had her eyes set on the tall man with the whip .With his dark brooding looks
and  his charming ways ,
he had a chilling stare .
With tranquil murmurs that brought a colour to her eyes ,
she turned to him as if I wasn’t there.

if I could just take her away ,
from these abandoned ruins of darkness and dispair ,.
for This fortress of love that dwells in her heart     ,
can only lead to tears when death do they part .

On a white horse called. Charger we would ride with
her on side saddle ,
she as my bride .
Away from these dungeons of darkness  ,
I would give her my heart .
Far away with black clouds moving to and fro  above us ,
could never tear us apart .
I would take her to where God hides his
golden lilies of love .
far away to silver mountain ,
O won’t you follow me ?
for his eyes are as dark ,
as the depths of the sea .



But this night canst only live in the dreams only in part ,
as she hands me a glass of red wine ,
Instead of the keys to her heart .

If love was just a butterfly upon a summers day ,
dancing above daffodils then flying far away .
For if love could be a stolen locket ,
taken from a tower ,
with a picture of her lover ,
dancing before a flower ?
But if love is none of these ,
and does not waver ,
and does not flint ,
but shows its many colours in O so many ways ,
in roses and violets and O so many other dainty things
we could love all our days ?
Then let it be like the morning ,
that hope we have each day ,
as rays of light come calling
to brighten up our day.

Because that is what my sister is ,
always thoughtful and serene ,
a lady of many colours ,
a spectrum of crystal beams.
looking out into the sunlight ,
as every morning unfolds.

An all encapsulating flower ,
before it’s petals fall ,
the spraying of salt water ,
against a harbour wall .

A light house to a bird ,
beaten back by the winds entrepid gales ,
but above all a safe harbour when all else begins to fail .

My Father was a gentleman ,
he loved to do what was right.
but above all a loving Father
in everything he did ,
beit playing catch with a rugby ball on Sunday afternoons.
Or digging the garden always with a pipe in hand .


Tall dark and handsome ,
was my Dad in so many ways .

So tall my gran never lost him in a crowd
or so she used to say ,
you could see him a mile off for he had fair Curley hair ,
when all the other girls could only stand and stare ,
my mother asked him for a dance as love bloomed in the air .


But it was my sister Father took too the dance floor ,
as she learnt to waltz across the Room ,
to the tunes  of Bacharach and Rich ,
on some smoke filled  afternoon .
But when the lights were dimmed ,
and moon set far above the stars ,
which somehow looked down on them ,
from other far out galaxies  hidden from afar .
the waves washed up against the shore ,
with moonlight and roses beaming in their eyes ,
‘‘Twas their nights of paradise that encapsulated the room ,
every single night .


Yet when the mornings rays sent to lighten up the room ,
with sparrows and blackbirds chirping their O so happy tunes ,
Memories of childhood stars ,
bring memories of love .
Sitting in my bedroom even to this day ,
those memories stay with me ,
and last throughout my day

How silent the wood seems now ,
that everyone has left .
Or perhaps they never were ,
to the untrained eyes of the unwanted guest ?

The streams and Brooks are still flowing ,
their waters never end ,
and the birds will soon be chirping,
alive their happy song .
to reclaim the wood that man once trod ,
and thought he once belonged .

Her Queen is now in paradise she  goes a waltzing through her trees ,
caught only by the passing dancing whispers of her leaves .
“ She looks happy now for the strangers bones
have now all broken ,
for they have turned to mulch before her feet ,
and lie a compost for her bed .

and the leaves and trees before her , they form a trail before her ,
and so ,
break out in song .

they go on and on and on .
As the winds and trees obey her ,
and sing her happy tune .

And soon the trees are Waltzing with each other in her wake ,
for nothing shall stand before her ,
not man ,
or beast or snake .

For the costers who once sold apples ,
they stripped them from her trees.                                                         they  came across a glade in the Forrest .
They  lit fires and gorged on anything that flew ,
or swam ,
or moved ,
then fell in silence to their knees .

And by dusk they all had all vanished ,
not a *** or burning ember to be seen .

As as for the men who came with axes to cut down what they could find ? Well they disappeared like the stranger ,
under no rock or stone could they hide .

And as the sun rises softly ,
into a warming pastel hew ,
her warm rays balm in sunlight ,
as the Queen takes up her throne ,
to gaze upon in glorious sunlight ,
for  her throne is made out of skin and bone ,
content that man knows  best,
to think that the Forrest is his home .

The skies are quieter now ,
the birds were  full of song.
and. as  ancient. woodland stretches out her hand
their dark fickle  shadows fall ,as if to say ,
“ You’re not welcome here  go home you really don’t belong .’


And so the. stranger  rests his staff  for  a while gently against
a tree
to sit down besides a brook . .
For  his days are getting shorter now ,
for they are much more than whenst he took .


A gentle whisper in his ear from a starling fleeing her nest
She says “time waits. for  not even for you ,                                            so please do not invite
him in and think that he’s your guest .”

And so the stranger  picks up his staff and goes upon his way ,
and never again finds time to stay  
as the woodland soon gives up her song ,
and falls silent along his way

Yet silence is an unwanted guest ,
she never asks to stay ,
but if she does ,
don’t leave her long ,
for she might never go away .                                                                ­   For the woods which were once full of song ,
now hides a deadly grin .

What horrors that lie in tell ,
no words no man has ever seen .
except for the singing of the birds ,
and the dancing of the leaves .

Of all the secrets that wood holds ,
this stranger  will ever  tell
for no one has ever heard or seen,
the mystery’s of her  dancing Queen .
That shifts the branches to and fro ,
who tells the winds which way to blow .

And all that was left was a babbling brook ,
When the sun arose the following day,
no stranger lost was ever found ,
and is still goes missing to this day .

Cora you’re beauty is like,
the humming bird when  suckling her young ,
she feeds feeds on nectar under the hot rays of the sun.
In their nests of their branches above where you sleep .
It is where the
flamingos fly and rest their wings under a blood red sky .

And when I listen to the streams that ripple in your heart ,
let me not be the one that tears it apart .

O  let me then plant curry plants at your door ,
so when you awake you might smell their sweet fragrant  flower once more.

For. When  the moon will rise its orbit will set in your gaze ,
and we shall let it wonder around all our days .

And i shall tell of the milk maiden O when her work is done.,
to bring milk to you every day so you can separate your curds and whey .,
under the gaze of the midday sun .


Yet when you wipe the sweat from under your brow
it brings only the smell of lavender some how ?
beit you graze a finger ,
or splinter your thumb.

And when the ravens call ,
as they do every day when the night time falls
cover your eyes and ears
for you must not tell of
what they have seen ,
and what they have heard .

And as for the scoundrel who forever knocks at your door
who always demands more more more .

More for his master ,
more money than bread,
that was meant ,
to feed your poor children ,
and keep a roof above their head .


For if I ever see him again ,
no good will become ,
should I not want to smite his breath from under my brow,
and leave him dying
In the heat of the sun ,
Untill deaths dark angel shall spread her wings all around ,
and commit his bones unto the ground .


It’s where th£ ravens rest in hollow trees ,
and love is brought gently to her knees .
And death is but a hollow crown ,
It’s where maggots and flies shall gather,
all around .

There was a dolls house down my lane ,,
where dolls were mended and restored  just the same ,
as when I looked in wonder through a door ,
with all the other children who had gone before .

Now my broken Belinda had many faults ,
she didn’t scream ,
and she didn’t shout ,
and when I wound her up ,
She didn’t move ,
or play hopscotch with my other toys .
She just sat at the end of my room looking quite upset ,
and sometimes very annoyed .

But dr Archibald was very kind ,

he restored  my doll at no expense .
He wound her up ,
and she began to speak out loud ,
to play hopscotch with the bears and the other crowd ,
who couldn’t talk ,
Or move ,
or shout .

And poor Belinda soon was all alone ,
with no one to talk to ,
She sat by herself at the foot of the stairs ,
where all the other toys poked and stared .

Untill one day a charming ted ,
with buttons as bright as his shiny new vest ,
Who was charmed by her “ I’m Belinda ha ha ha “ s
and they sped away in his flashy new car ,
around and around my bedroom they went .
Untill one day they were sent underneath the stairs ,
into a room I never went .
Alone in th3 darkness ,
they are to this day ,
dreaming of the days ,
when they both sped away .

Go home to your mothers ,
go home and pick your dainty flowers ,
for the hours are short ,
and your days are long ,
go home this day with your mothers where you belong .

So the children came from the mills ,
who toiled all year to their masters will ,
who now were free ,
just for one day ,
to go home to their mothers ,
come what may .

For the flowers are free ,
in the blustery winds ,
that blow all day ,
and are never still .
Much like the child who to this day ,
Picks the wild flowers along the way .

The winds that once beat against  my door ,
which never give me rest .


For in the darkest hours thou watches over me
as wicker shapes that bends the bark ,
with which no  winds so foul should bear ,

and though this  roof. may   have holes. to mend ,
as he bangs and saws and threads ,
so that I am tempted not ,
Tis with these cloven hooves I tred
to mountainous pastures far away ,
to where no green grass is fed .

For he doth careth for
the blind ,
the sick ,
and the lame ,
those who do  not envy strife ,
yet brings not home it’s shame.

But in quiet pastures gently lays
he puts an end to war .
When  fierce wolves and dogs ,
take the shepherd from the door .

As darkness feasts upon the lamb ,
on hill tops far away ,
for danger is forever near ,
on cliffs tops ,
Left to die ?
No not I,
for it is in truth the good shepherd spake .
For all is said and done ,
and evening prayers are said ,
which quell the widows troubled brow ,
and holds fast the rebel tongue .
So as candel  light adorns the window frame ,
and waits for loved ones to appear ,
they know not how or when ,
When the day is done ,
and nightly clouds ,
draw ever near .
loved ones from out of the shadows shall appear                              from every field and farrow ,
the blind ,
the frail ,
and the lame .
O good shepherd won’t you guide me
home this very hour ,
to seek thy face again .

Where the poison ivy grows ,
Inside the castles keep ,
where knights once fought ,
and maidens still weep .
It’s where the cows and the bulls now chew at its cud ,
and where weeds grow where i once made love .

It’s Where My Amices. sweet sorrows. abides ,
as Poison ivy grows where once her sweet waters flowed ,
Into the apple of her eye .

And so she will remember the day of my death ,
with a lock of my hair ,
and the memory of my breath .
a scarlet ribbon tied to her hair ,
to remind her of me ,
when I wasn’t there .

For this knight through unto battle he went ,
to face the Kings foe in the battle of Lament .

And even though a thousand would die by his side ,
it still wasn’t enough for her heart to reside .

And yes my battle was long and hard ,
and she just wept ,
when the swords and the arrows flew,
down upon my shield ,
yet mortal wounds they
they bled ,
and died ,
Just so she could be with me by my side .

But my quest for her heart as a true friend ,
was to end in sorrow ,
again and again .

And yes there were other truer knights that courted her hand ,
and I would die with my mace and a purple flower in my hands .

Though chivelry waits in my castle on high locked away ,
With dragons by her side .
Alas when my day is done ,
the black Knight will take away ,
The prize he hath won .

And with all the finest ribbons she could have bought in the fair ,
none should  be as dainty ,
none would be as rare ,
as the ribbon she held ,
when I lost her love ,
let it be said ,
in the battle of Lament ,
I fought valliently for ,
my love .
And so the sun will set ,
and let it never rise again ,
for darkness hath brazen ,
a nobeler friend .
and so here must it end
In sweetest sorrow ,
again and again ,
the purple flower fades
it’s memories are of no tomorrows ,
for in sweetest sorrow must end .
Good bye my friend .***

And winter gave it’s stormy blast ,
where’s sales were lost to their riggin masts ,
and souls were cast down upon the waves ,
never to be see. Or saved .

But as the sailor gripped his mast
his fingers now a mix of blood and grit  ,
for days without water or food  he went

Before the freezing waters lapped around his waste ,
and all he could hear were the cry’s of his men ,
begging for mercy before another wave swilled then again .

Forty days and nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
Forty days a sailor ,
and all without Ezmerelda .

And they all  missed their wives and ******
or ***** who used to tie them
to the floor ,
but above all the women they loved the more ,
there was no one like Ezmerelda

And now the waters are all around ,
and our sailors fingers bleed as frost.bight  cuts off his fingers and toes ,
but all he ever thinks of his days with Ezmerelder .


and still he sings ,
Forty days with nothing to drink ,
Forty days of rotting meat
before the waters took him down

I found myself once of desolate shores where the cliffs and rocks ,
found high  in their mountainous peaks ,
that once battered against the shore.,
thousands of years before ,
eroded against where the seagulls nest .
Far away from where ainchent city’s once fought,
but now found rest .

All of what’s left of them are statues of marble eroded by the sea .
once decorated in beautiful ornate colours grinded out of stone .
now left abandoned ,
alone .

And as I walked I came across a cliff ,
where seagulls flew far away from this land ,
to distant shores they took hold of the winds ,
and so I thought what a marvellous thing .
If I could fly just like them ,
Sumon up the power of gods not men ?

But as  I spread my wings ,
and I did not fly ,
instead my wings
Plummeted down from the skies ,
to die .

Where ainchent worlds once had lived
we’re now lost in sandstone marbel and grit .
And I saw various colours of small fish as I fell ,
deep down below where the waters swell .

And so I began to wish that I was up there ,
In the clean blue heavenly clouds  ,
somewhere where heavenly voices can be found .

But alas my wings now we’re to fail ,
for not even Zeus with all his power could ,
Make my wings go any higher .
and I forgot how to swim like a fish in the sky ,
or even down below .
How foolish to think that I  in such a brief time ,
I could lose my life ,
In a blink of an eye.
A
And so I lost my will to live ,
and death took hold of me with its icey grip ,
so I drifted as if for days ,
deep into my yonder grave.
Far away from the fish I had seen ,
or sunken vessels that were once king of the seas .
Somewhere I didn’t want to be .
Yet in the vastness of the seas above ,
I found nothing here ,
not even love .

If  I could  see you just once more time ,
without you’re  name in stone ,
or marble images all in white .
Without the hosts of the starry nights ,
a pilgrims life times work,
written under moonlight night ,
In a time we could call own own .

Then If roses bloom to no avail ,
then weep and wilt because you’re blossoms fail ,                                      then  I should employ  a thousand minstrels to dance and sing .
then  they will be enough to raise you from your sleep
, for evermore ?

So cold you lay ,
so peaceful now ,
Yet my rose shall wilt and die .

Then so beit  
If my fingers blessed they  bleed against your stone ,
under your blood red sky .
For at least it will be a reminder that I am not alone.
Then you ****** my blood into your mouth ,
my hair you gently caressed
as ours eyes met
as red as the sky’s dying light ,
under your naked breast .
As red as the rose I once gave to you it
shall bloom again once more .


And as I turned to walk away ,
i heard your voice again ,
“ Come quick whilst the skies are still red ,
come quick and don’t delay “
come and make these rose petals for our bed ,
for this night let it be said
will be forever and a day “

‘ And yes my roses are still red ,
and every night they bloom ,
a stone cold carcus for a bed ,
where  thistle and **** grow undisturbed around
her white marble statue ,
underneath where rose petals lay ,
can still be visible to this day .

A bird pecks on a window frame .
Across the room ,
there was a cage  ,
its bars were cruel ,
yet kept the warm sunlight    
that beamed across the room .
" Are you.alright ?
asked the bird ,
who was outside ,
not trapped by the bars ,
thar held the other bird inside .

" i have enough water and seed to
keep me fed
and a bell that hangs from
my roof that keeps me safe ,
when the cat comes out to play .
And the lady who is elderly ,
who pokes and stares and says "
" pritty polly "  as she pulls a face ,
then lights a cigarette in at the foot of the stairs .

And  i can still fly ,
as i move side to side.

And so the cat arrives and claws at
my cage ,
as  i sqork and flap with fists of rage .
And theres a mirror ,
that hangs by itself from above  ,
so i can still see if i am  still  in love "?

"Thats all very "well said the bird
from outside ,
but the skys are blue ,
they have awoken for spring
and your stuck inside
with a cat who cant sing.

The bird didnt wait for an answer ,
but when he returned ,
the budgie  ,
dropped dead from his perch ,
as his  cage was opened ,
the old elderly who by now was very frail ,
fed him to the cat ,
with its very long tail .

And so every night on her porch before ten ,
the cat who could now sing
with the old lady and her banjo,
They sat on a rocking chair
and sung to the birds ,
in the cool night air ,
O haven’t you heard ?

Her eyes were dull that killed the day ,
Monolithic colours of stone and clay
but when she met him ,
with his heart full of gold ,
with his bunch of red roses ,
true and bold ,
her shining knight her cavalier were words only for someone else’s ear .


A thousand colours he had to hold ,
with a heart set to conquer what he could not hold
Yet a graveyard that hid his heart,
somewhere to bury it when times got  tough .
on a windy days that shall come a time
for all of us .
when her flowers have all decayed ,
and she looks in silence at the one , for the choice she has made.

But if truth be told at what a price ,
for a price of daffodils,
if love should bloom ,
and melt her heart of ice.

amgst all the difficult things in life they bore ,
That either should say “ I don’t love you anymore .”

But to exhume their hearts with shovels and picks ,
In windy grave yards where no one sleeps .
For in separate beds where they now sleep ,
with wet damp pillows of tears do they weep .

The people gathered all around ,
to see the Spector that had fled,
when the sun went down .
With forks and anything else they could find ,
so to save the sick ,
the lame ,
and the blind .

Far in the distance the red sky a blaze ,
set alight by the suns burning rays .

For every night just before sundown ,
Ghostly apparitions were seen in the town .

They came to gawp ,
they came to stare ,
so poets could dream ,
and write without care .

And so the red wing which looked for bugs on the ground
soon spread its wings
amugst the wind and the snow, and the foul ,
and when it left it could not be found ..

And so darkness fell on this land from dawn to night when the
Sun went. down ,
and spread from afar ,
Untill the morning light .
they just wore masks to dig a hole for their dead ,
into a pit their bodies layed .

And so the ghosts with their gawps and stares ,
we’re only there to help the folk in their prayers .
And when they had left the boils and the **** ,
that clung to their throats ,
and ****** all their blood ,
left without warning as the red wing sang .

So the child who had the fever and the sores ,

could live and breath and shout and scream
and dance for the joy of the Lord .

I found the birds circling above an ancient stone ,
as the skies were gettin darker ,
their. clouds  once blue now crimson and black in colour .

Alas  the birds didn’t make a sound ,
they didn’t swoop down ,or croak , or . Caw  !                                          Yet I was transfixed by what I saw ,
and so  my bones were broken  without number .
I fell unto the ground ,
and I prayed to God if I should should not see out this day ,
at least if they be scattered to the four corners of the earth
Should they ever be found ? .

That beast or man might not find them ,
or dig them up from the ground ,
or birds of prey scavage or use them for nests ,
then fly away .





Then I saw four creatures circling above the earth ,
with the moon and the sun,
along with billions of stars all rolled into one .,


Twas Then I saw a stone which had stood before man could even count ,
and so I began to wunder,
what it was all about ?
no clue to where  it came from ,
but burrowed in its heart ,
a name ...
A name from before even time began ,
before the earth could speak

A timeless treasure that always stood before the world began .

So then I returned to my body as my spirit had not yet given up my
Fight  to live ,
to ponder on what I had seen ,
a darkness far greater yet ,
more darker than  my eyes had ever met .

But darkness in all its brooding forms. Could  never cast its spell ,
and that which stood before me was on its way to hell .


And so I found the four compasses of the earth ,
and anchored them in  seas unchartered depths
so I tried to navigate before the sun the moon and the stars .

But God who’s good shepherd would never lead me astray ,
In open seas he brought me back from where I lay .

with thirty pieces of silver ,
and a cross of Roman wood ,
‘‘twas before a brightest light ,
that shone without darkness ,
a name which is Christ the Lord ,
is so often misunderstood.
In stone it now stands before me ,
where beneath no grave can lay ,
a corner stone of heaven that won’t ever see decay .

I layed my doll beside her ,
a perfect replica of what she meant to me .
Then held her by my side for all the world to see .

For she was elegant  when she was with me ,
a turtle dove before the spring ,
and so with all her charms of innocence ,
I loved her before any living thing .

That none should walk besides me
when she took me to the fair ,
so she can lay besides me ,
and comfort me in prayer .
under soft floral blankets ,
we will sleep this very  night .
For even death with all its grandure ,
as she looked beyond its gaze ,
a doll made just for her ,
when she has passed through this realm of days .

And so love still let it conquer when all I have to hold ,
is a doll made out of wax with its O so pretty nose .

For if it be A coffin she might. Sleep this very night ,
but in my bed she now will lay ,
my doll  with the sweetest fragrances will never see decay .

And it shall be my comfort even though worms eat her body so ,
I will always have my sweet daisy besides me ,
where ever i go .

But so the years went by and I forgot about my friend ,
who sat in the corner for years without end .
Untill one day I made love to a woman I had met at the fair ,
for she was just like my Daisy  and had long flowing locks in her hair .

And so it moved  ,
to the foot of the bed ,
as we got ***** under those soft floral sheets ,
we once called our bed ,
and now all it does is stare at us ,
and won’t leave us alone .

So we buried sweet daisy ,
we smashed her with a hammer ,
we buried her in the garden ,
and left a cross upon her grave ,
now Every night we watch in silence ,
too terrified and afraid  
that Daisy my beloved should one day
rise up fron her grave.

Yesterday the Angels came ,
they fluttered to the ground ,
they landed on roof tops and church spires all around ,
was the day the angels fell.

And we came out into the streets and wondered at the sight ,
thousand upon thousands of tiny angels in the skies ,
caught in. the sunlight

They came and settled all around ,
Some made the image of man out of them ,

Others gathered them up to throw   at each other ,
and laughed as each one fell ,
and we’re trampled to the ground .

Others watched as the angels melted when the suns rays turned
their white to grey ,
untill they had a haggered look ,
and had nothing more to say .

Then in the morning ,
they became hard and cold ,

So man slipped and bruised his knee ,
and man  said to himself ,
“ what has God done to me ? “
He sent these angels once pure and virtiuas  In love
but now we have trodden on them to the ground ,

Like witches struggling for breath ,
with a noose around their necks ,
and yet by the morning they couldn’t be found .
disappeared in the cold light of day
and man stood in wonderment and deep despair ,
as how he had treated those God had sent down ,
to help him fly away .

This night we salute the night soil man ,
for when you are safely sleeping in your bed,
where cesspools lie ,
where rats and mice are fed ,
In the secret corners down below,
is somewhere you don’t want to go .

It’s where ladies with their hankies frown ,
would rather think not of what goes down ,
but indeed would spray sweet perfume ,
so not not to gather
the gasses they might leave in the room .

So the next time you go to the loo ,
have a thought for what the night soil man can do for you ,
who Catches a thief upon your door ,
so when the mornings clouds break ,
once more ,
and the suns rays with bleary eyes you rub to awaken your tired eyes ,
You open up your WC,
and you never wonder what lies beneath ,
those which mother tells you “ good boys and girls don’t ask “
their secrets keep ,
and must speak of no more .

my words are lost .
they cant be found ,
lost ambiguas to the ground .
In silent thoughts some profound ,
my words drift far away ,
never to be found .

For in merrinent they dance above my head in letters and pros that are left
unread .
So please write down in pen and ink
those thoughts in the night that cannot
speak,
that drift away as  if you dream ,
in multicoloured stars unseen .

And when you wake at  three a m
to silent thoughts begin again  ,
the words you lost that you  will never
find ,
lost forever in your mind

Did I tell you once there were three ,
Tom and i and the ocean ,
and we all ventured out to sea ,
only two returned so that left me .


But the seas were never a friend of mine ,
but still I would go fishing to pass the time ,
to cast my line over the seas harbour walls ,
and dream of monsters from the deep ,
their open mouths and shiny sharp jaws ..and teeth .


Did I tell you once there once were two
the ocean and me,
and that’s what led me out to sea ?

But I never liked the watery waves ,
the smell of the salt ,
the seaweed and shale ,
the ***** that at night hid under rocks ,
the mermaids that called  the sea their throne .

But I went out in my boat  in a gale ,
I pushed my boat out with the shingle and shale ,
and rowed above those sea going winds ,
And I felt the roar of the seas beneath my feet
and so their monsters I stood and fought ,
each one fell valiant against my sword .
ten thousand fathoms deep ,
they fell unto their graves


Yet The moon was full underneath the oceans waves ,
and all went still .
Untill the mermaids sang
a sea shanty they sang to me
and for a time they were all I could see,
beautiful Mermaids all around me .
For The light of the moon had captured the waves ,
and so the light became their  slaves .
as mermaids sang as if for days ,
their sirens moving  across the waves.


the ocean had swelled ,
and rose ,
then frowned .

and left my boat capsized in front of me ,
and so I drowned .
Then all that was left was the ocean,
and
the sound of the waves ,
and then there were three ,
you and me and our boat heading out to sea .

If love is sweet and doth not decay ,
as your eyes turn to dew at the end of the day .


And the sweet lemon blossom is still in your hair
as the primrose in bloom ,
at appleberry fair . so perfect their apples all juicy and ripe ,
as you ruffle your feathers ,
as the wind catches the breeze ,
in the pure sunlight .

For as love conquers all it is all that I ask ,
for a bite of your apple at Appleberry fair .

Yet time is a dream and it won’t go away ,
as the soldiers march at the end of the day .

They came with their bayonnets  to bare and to hoist ,
to take you away at the sound of my voice.

And all I looked for in a girl so rare ,
was a taste of your apple ,
at Appleberry fair

And so to rest my tired eyes on hills far away from my battle cries ,
where  love and hope their pastures rise ,
and so to sleep and rest my case ,
the fall of man their human race ,
that life should be but twice the pace ,
that my dreams whenst I awake
should ever be fortold ?
A porpers tale  that i should take a crumb of bread from my masters plate

For my bones are tired , and the birds that once found their nests     
in my ribs  
have Taken to flight a long time ago .
And  so ,
now rats naw on my morbid friend ,
and nettle and daisy are my corpses new. guests
to reclaim what man once called his own ,
that man should be but skin and bone!



For grave lies cold it’s chambers bare ,
but alas I have a saviour who does not lie here ,
where decay and rotting flesh may not be found ,
somewhere with mansions built on holy ground .

Somewhere far away from this place for when my body with rigomortis lie ,
and underground catacombs their corpes still!
unmoved unbowed unto this earths decaying will .

And soon the ground in which I lay will be built apon
in brick and hay ,
and I shall be forgotten one sunny day ,
And aye I cast my cap to him a porper  bring a crown to honour
My heavenly King

I gave you flowers ,
and you spat in my face ,
you cussed untill I could take it no more .
But still there was something that told me you still love me so .
For your hair was ruffled ,
and you had too much to drink ,
now what was I surposed to think ?

Now Would it bide me some time ,
with all its horses ,
Carrages and fine wine
Porcelaine figurerines in gardens so rare
If I offered these things for you to ****** my hair.                                    Roaring  fires when you return from the snow
So I could warm your dainty feet when ever they get cold .

All these things I would give unto you ,
for a moment of your time ,
and a kiss from me to you .
On your cheek if that’s alright by you ,
then on your lips if I could only unbridle you.

For the four winds of love to summon you ,
To bridle your passions on hot summer nights ,
To feel your warm touch of your delicate thighs.

For where the two lovers roam I shall take you there,
far away where nothing dies ,
no dreams of loves begotten by pride .

So if you said yes to these which I adore ,
then greet me with flowers when we meet down by the shore

“. Oh I will greet you with flowers ,
and let me bring the wine ,
I shall ****** your hair and have a good time ,
and when we have had too much to drink ,
we shall bid our farewells
with the gulls of the sea ,
will wash away what memories you ever had of me .

One evening when the lights were still
bright  and shiney bawballs that dangled
and  had once clung on for dear life,
now started to fall .
one by one  .
then the elphs and the nymphs  !   ,
one and all .
they knew the end had begun. .
The pixies fled to the four corners of the wood  ,
along with the fairys who were upto no good !
For even the angel who sat on the tree
saw from far away what was to be ,
the creeping darkness on this twelth night opened its mouth to swollow
them whole !

so The Angel spread her wings of light
and devised a plan for only one could
be queen of this land .


And so the night put up a fight
as the harpie stole souls that were
not hers by right ,

before she was vanquest by  her hand
and sent back to never never land
and when the centaur and spinx
had fled the kind angel said
whos next ?
And so the clown that slumped against a tree just laughted and laughed,
then when his head fell off
he laughted even more ,
even though his head was on the floor .
Then when his arms fell off he laughted some more .
Untill his insides split and everything ended
up on the floor .,
and so he laughted some more .
So mother said put your toys away that tree has to come down today .

When black  clouds and white butterflys are all that i can see  ,
and  the towers of Balam stand tall ***** infront of me ,
and the bells of the convent i now ring
with two stubs for arms
and yet no one pitys my cry
and lets me in .
then let  what was lost  in heaven bestow
unto me ,
what  heavenly ghostly apperishans tell .
that  two birds of paradise might  fly down from heaven above
to place a ring of shaphires before my 
Queen of love

when  if all that is left are dafffodills
on Welsh green fields and valleys  ,
so fair ,
and a call from mama ,
thats fine by me for  i wont be missing supper today .
But if what is found is love in my sweet Alices smile than that to me
is worth more than gold ,
if i find saphires in her eyes .

.Bur  if all that is left are daffodils
then thats alright by me
then
ALICE  and i wil be cycling tandom
on our way
home for tea .

It is him ,
The man who writes,
the man who makes my heart beat
every night.every time I am with .
For I have passed out  in fields of green ,
all alone with rolling clouds black some obscene ,
the paper wet from The rain ,
my eyes bleary  with pain ,
I wring them out with his words
all dripping and wet ,
and play them over again and again
in my head .
my clothes may be  wet from the day ,
but these silent memories just wont
go away
prostate on this field that I lay ,
I clutch his words into my breast
the silent words that are as yet unsaid,
though wind and rain assail my mast ,
all wretched and alone when these words have passed
Yet somehow I shall still remember him  in poetic words  and distant dreams ,
in gardens that have not let been covered in snow ,
for there will my  crocuses grow .
And if he dies and we have not met ,
a thousand of his words ,
will still lay in my bed

Violets and strings are how I think of you, that dance in velvet colours that aren’t always blue .
Hearts that murmur that are all  laced with strings ,
The bugle that sounds in the early hours is a dove ,
Is only captivated by your love .

And so as the birds awoke to  this melody of spring ,
then let summer awake in violets betrothed to their Queen .
Let bluebells fall when ever she is near ,
and castle trumpets a fanfare my dear ,
and minstols play their tamberenes when you are awake oh does
thy heart not leap to the sound .?
And when you raise your hands in all but jest ,
do. not the red wing and field fares migrate at your request ?

So to what accord did  that man lye upon her  breast ?
For he doth trouble my heart ,
that should beat even faster when he is near ,
and now wild horses have carried her  away ,
and all I can see are red kisses whey he lay ,
for  now I have tooth decay ,
for all her  sweet promise s only blackened my teeth
as blood now Stains those lovely silk sheets ,
O O food of my love,
was it so sweet in the mouth ,
but left a bitter taste ,
When all my teeth had fallen out .

T’was a morrow before St Nicholas ,
the air was stiff and cold ,
even the mice who were running about ,
took shelter from the cold .

Yet St Nicholas still had presents for all the poor and sick ,
their little eyes peered out from behind their curtains
their mothers shood them away ,
‘ after all ‘ St Nick won’t call unless your good ,’
so the fairy stories say .’
Then mother slammed the book and sent them off to bed.
Their poor staving children still needed to be fed .


And yet far away in Bethlehem Angels spread their wings,
six thousand years of waiting and at last th3 angels sing .

And an elderly man who was waiting could now die in peace ,
and so St Nicholas handed out his presents for the lonely and the week .
And so on Christmas morning all the children had enough to eat .

Not in the large houses did he bother with their gas fires at night ,
T’was the  needy and the wanton that brought hope on this holy night

And so for the desperate and the needy ,
For hot food and warm blankets and a bed to sleep ,
he still walks the lonely streets .

And so far away in Bethlehem that wasn’t that far at all ,
a new born baby tomorrow will be born,
A saviour for the desperate ,
The wanton and the week ,
and all those at Christmas time with not enough food to eat .

If you never hear from me again ,
just remember this ,
it is that I loved you with the fondness of spring ,
for it was not in a twinkling that I did depart ,
but it was to ever lay upon the ruins of my heart ,
the sadness it would bring .
For Not an ounce was it not spared ,
upon these mill. Ponds ,
that rippled ,
that laid bare upon this  frozen earth ,
those daffodils of spring .


But alas this winter is eternal has laid contempt upon my brow ,
as our bodies perish ,
from this cold ,
but  let it not be like this if it  is it to be remembered ,
for only  by the merriment of youth ,
shall it be endowed ,


That we should ever spend our days on earth ,without a friend ?

And the dear sentiments of when we first met ,
are now only tinged with the  deepest regret .
That these bitter winds one day might end ,
and if they do I beg  of you ,
that you will see me ,
not then  as the years have marched on ,
but as a companion and a friend.


But if not the years than what ?
For the years in all their  dearest forms ,
should dare to charm what we once knew .
For if it were my last food parcel would I not give unto you ?

For if it not Charity should ever boast about things just as these ,
It is that this endless winter should ever  bring us to our knees ,
and walk cap in hand to our Lord and master of thi# land ,
that he should take pity on the plight we now stand ?
Or if a passing stranger should walk on by ,
and take ruth,
under these blackened skies ?
Or just find one more thing to wither and die .

But they themselves have not food to eat ,
and walk aimlessly about these  forever cursed streets .

And as of now you lye unmoved ,
upon the ground
as snow gives you  it’s blanket of spring ,
unmoved unbowed ,
the daintiest most beautiful thing ,
Layed to waste upon the ground .

For now I to  must sleep for a while ,
for death is only the first flower of spring,
the most prettiest ever eternal thing

There’s a church in Marytown ,
It’s ruins lay forgotten in this cold old Cumbria town .
Just bird song now fills its rotting pews ,
and. You tell me “  the bird ****  dos’nt bother you ? ‘

And there’s a hole in the roof where the rain still pours  in ,
In this Cumbrian town which closed its doors ,
the first days of spring.
Where it’s vermin crawl about yet are never heard ,
except by the owls the cats and the birds .

So As a darkness falls
on to this canvas of grey ,
a famous artist once picked up his brushes to paint ,
Studied it’s red brick sandstone spire ,
Where ships coming home ,
once lost at sea


found  Bibles like the holy grail ,
a bowl of soup for the sick and the frail .

There is a Church in Marytown ,
It’s led roofs have
been torn down,
When once it was a bustling town .

When people used to sing and dance.,found                             forgiveness for their repentant hearts
But now the thief’s have all moved in ,
their plates of silver ,
their crosses of puter and tin .
they  left in sacks like Viking foe ,
who pillaged this  land a long time ago ,
thee pieces of silver for their tormented souls .

And so it is when we all fall apart when the grace we felt was a piece of art ,
to look and admire upon a wall ,
then  a chilling wind blow s in  to heed Gods call,
and your canvas is as Grey as the skies ,
as the rains pitter patter falls .
For only Then will our grey skies find a lighter blue ,
In a permenant reminder Christ died for you .

A shivering sun arose ,
It’s embers we’re cold ,
when you said we were finished you powdered you’re nose .
Now here I stand broken and all alone ,
In a space we once called,
“ Our lovely new home “

With unknown guests ,
that peer and stare ,
and fix their eyes on me  as if I’m not there .

But I have seen them moving about ,
In chambers and sculleries when the light has gone out .
Suddenly I can feel your breath on my skin ,
musty and rank ,
as the  fleeting winds ,
that blow a chill upon my spine ,
and take my breath away in the darkness of time .

My time has gone ,
and so have you ,
and the mornings suns rays bring  a damp to th3 dew .
as the branches thicken behind the trees that bring a reddening glow ,
where the sweet Alyssum forever blooms .
As the  ravens  flap their wings I feel. my heart pumping tight to my skin ,

lost in this dark forest where  I thought I knew what was best ?
Then death brought its pungent memories of spring                       of  you and i and a tatty old photograph ,
in a book on a shelf with its pages torn out .






So I light a fire to warm my feet and toes ,,
and a flask of black coffee to face my  foes .

But now they have gone and I’m all alone ,
for the ones that once looked just peered and glowed .
Just the warmth of your touch O heaven knows ,
how long I have been awaiting all on my own.
I hear A knock on the door ,
and your cheary smile ?
Now The fires are stoked I guess your not there ,
an open door brings a chill to the air ,
but I can here voices ,
They pull up a chair,
and we spend the night talking just as if you were there .

The curtains are drawn ,
no one wakes ,
the nights are long as the wolf lies in wait ,
for and when the sun burns out it’s days
the world will  be a happier place .

For no one dares now to venture out ,
their doors are shut ,
and are all bolted up .

And on the hearth a boiling stew ,
of rabbit or what ever runs and crawls ,
they will catch that  to.

Fasten down the bales in the wind,
for everything moves and nothing is still .

And if the winds die down for a while
the frost will bight ,
and break the bones of this  bitter night .
for  nothing is gained by the watch mans light .

Then when  the wolves and dogs will catch your hens ,
don’t fall asleep ,
to their wailing ends,
with flint lock poised ,                                                                ­             fo for the dead can’t awaken the wolf’s crafty stare ,
and pritty soon your hens won’t be there.!

And yes the nights will shorten soon ,
for one day they will end ,
and your crops will one day dance in your meadows again

It was a cold crisp morning when the fog had hardly enough time to lift ,
the seagulls each one first circling around empty egg shells ,
and discarded food the dust carts had left .

Then many more came a
Circling from far off land I had never seen  before ,
untill all I could see were wings of white all   flapping ,
like some kind of maddening on the floor .



And so The trees were stripped , their branches naked found their
gaiety in the winds
for no birds would find their nests ,
in spring.
their eggs flung out and crushed or stolen by children ,
with eager eyes yet somehow  lost along the way ,
then sold for half a crown ,
to the costermonger down the lane .
with  no time to breed ,
just die ,
and lie forgotten , dead upon the ground .





So life grows cold upon this land ,
it’s secrets may not tell ,
as empty shells discarded once ,
brought a new born babies  yell  .
And Mary sung in a land far far away ,
a small child at last  should bring some joy ,
as what the Angels say ,
In Christ a new born King will be born
and In a stable
  lay .

It was a cold crisp morning as many a seagulls sung ,
as if the world was at last waiting for ,
It’s new born
Son .