Weary of this town of peopled pain
I set my path towards the country plain
to wander there, to gaze, to think alone
to hear again  the woodland's drone

Lost in meadow, field and glade
I sought the calm of dappled shade
Sometime, I crossed a log-made bridge
Or, viewed a valley from fir-toothed ridge

So still the air - I heard the bluebell's ******
and caught a hidden thrush's eye atwinkle
as from thorn hedged cover with a thrill
silence welcomed its quavering trill.

Half across an old wind-weathered stile
I paused to gaze upon the scene awhile:
"Who could have made this?" Was my thought.
"What breath breathed this? What hands this wrought?"

Before me stretched a wonderous natural land
un designed by humankind - some primordial hand
Who once this world's existence stipulated
then taking elements, atoms, molecules them manipulated.

Into myriad mists of time has humankind dissolved
bearing a triple question unresolved:
How did We come? Why? Where Goest We?
If I knew the answers - would few believe me?

Called by larks from thoughts of life's meaning
I saw a sparkling brook down a valley streaming
Silvery-voiced it beckoned - come and slake
your thirst, come quaff amid my bubbling wake.

I, deep in the babbling water's bottom spied
a bright round pebble washed and pied:
it invited - perchance you'll take me
to London in a place called Stepney.

In my boiling mouth it found a place
cooling the bulge it made upon my face.
Refreshed in spirit - I made my homeward way
pebble-tongued across the new mown hay.

Tobias.

What was that haunting sound
outside in the gathering gloom?
Its mournful tones rang round
the pale moonlit silent  room.
No spectre, ghost nor ghoul,
but only a wandering owl
that had lately left its lair
to sit high in an oak tree bare
of leaves. While from nearby,
feathers unruffled wide of eye,
it cast a shadow from its head,
as I lay only half-asleep in bed.
Counting each and every breath.
Its presence “a harbinger of death”
often in fables told and legendary.
Was there an omen in its elegy?
For this listener, blanketed prone
in fearful darkness, still as stone.

TOBIAS

The words "I love you"
can - through repetition -
sound and  seem shallow,
when compared with the
immensity of your caring,
for the one you love...

Words can sometimes
fail and actions deceive:
so all is best expressed
in sharing between each
your devoted loving trust.

TOBIAS

Unaware I was:
I never knew it
for slowly You
became every
single thing
I ever wanted.
I have no idea
how it happened
but now for sure
I cannot live
without You.

Tobias.

Have you found a rhyming Genius,
is there nothing he can't do?
Like in his library penning poems
a plenty - maybe a tome or two.

Have you found a rhyming Genius
a man of truly high esteem,
whose wealth of writing styles
ensures a daily cash-flow stream?

Yes: you found yourself a Genius:
now in a penthouse we both abide,
sunning on  a bloom-filled balcony,
here pouting pigeons perch and glide.

Indeed, you found yourself a Genius
endowed with a mind so fine:
an escort to boutiques and bistros
ordering up for you the finest wine.

Yes: You found yourself a Genius
owning poetry mines - all off-shore:
who even flies by private plane
to quarry, assay, versify their ore.

Yes: you found yourself a Genius
there is nothing he can't do,
when it comes to make you happy
it’s all in rhymes and more for you.

TOBIAS

Lord. With your love and power
be always at her side.
Grudge not time nor the hour
to be her  hope and guide…

In sickness and thro’ sadness
still let her see Your face.
Bless her fleeting gladness
with Your all-protecting grace…

Fill with joyful clearness
her shadowed hours of sight.
Keep her safe in Your nearness
from Evening’s fall to Morning light.

Tobias

Pigs might fly:
aware of you
the stents in
my heart flap.
I wonder since
it could take off
in maiden flight,
will it be able
to touchdown?
I don’t know:
my heart has
its reasons
but won’t say.

Tobias