the odds against you being born are astronomical
the fact you were, a miracle

There are no Apaches
With flaming arrows and piebald ponies
There are no writhing jungles round here
There are no lost temples
Hiding untold treasures
There are no damsels to be rescued
By a knight on a white charger

There are no pirates on the high seas
No skull and crossbones flying
Above a deck bristling and glistening
With cutlasses and flintlocks ready
And hook hands and black eye-patches
In the sunlight of the Spanish Maine

There are no interplanetary wars
With hand-held laser guns
And weird creatures from strange worlds
They just do not exist
I learned this when
I was very very young
And I really wanted to be a pirate

                                    By Phil Roberts

personality stamped into your DNA
moulded somewhat by circumstance
choices you and others made
its impossible to separate the wave from the sea
and pigeon holes are for Pigeons, nothing more.

If you gaze at the skyline,
at the hour of twilight,
you will see the thin line
dividing dark from light.
In this hour of darkness,
beneath the starlight,
watch as dawn breaks,
then breaches the horizon.
In this moment at sunrise,
your mind will arrive,
to the presence of daybreak,
and the blessings of first light.
In this hour of daylight,
your mind will realize,
we must see the darkness,
in order to see the light.

Bright yellow, sweet smelling flowers
Surrounded by leaveless trees under grey winter skies
I want to cut them, keep them for my own
Dazzle my eyes and my eyes alone
With their brightness
Their yellow colour of hope
Hope that spring will come again
That leaves will sprout green and whisper secrets with the breezes
Too cold even for the grass to be green
But the daffodils, burst forth baring the colour of the sun
Promising hope.....

'From the frying pan into the fire'