When I got home this morning
My wife was tearing hair from her head
I said what's the problem darling
She said the ****** toasters dead
She said I've tried everything to
Get that thing to cook
I said just take it easy
I'll go and take a look
Tool bag in hand I entered
That electrically haunted space
I surveyed the situation
The answer  was clear to see
I unplugged the multi cooker
AND PLUGGED THE TOASTER IN

I sit there in my garden
And watch the clouds up there
I see fairy story castles
And dragons flying there
It's all imagination
Just images in my mind
But this is my time to sit, think, write
Of the images I see
Next time you look at moving clouds
Imagine what you see
Then just let the pen take over
And write those moving images for me

But!

If I had been born a dog I would have been a mongrel

You see

My great grandmother came from County Cork in Ireland
My grandmother was half French
My father was a Canadian from Winnepeg
His family originated in the Inverness area of Scotland

Yes I'm proud to be an Englishman

I've pretended for far to long now
But when my grey white hair falls like snow upon my shoulders
And even in summer I feel the ache in my joints
I have to finally accept that I'm old

Yes, I've seen the bad sad times
And lived the good
In equal measure
Lived the high life with money to spend
Experienced visiting food banks
To keep my family fed

But now in the twilight of my years
I'm neither rich nor poor in monetary wealth
Just about comfortable

But in my words and yours
I have far more than financial worth
I have friends in words
Burned forever into ether of space
Words of love, sometimes words of scorn
But still words
And in my scrambled mind words are beautiful

Continue to write dear friends

For all our younger poets*

I am a sower of seeds
Hello Poetry is the soil that nurtures the seeds
You are the tender young plants reaching for the sky
Soon to blossom in your full glory

Sitting under a tree for 3 hours painting pen pictures


10:30

Ok lets make a start, sitting on my little canvas stool
my back against a spreading oak
Facing west, sun behind my shoulder
20 yards away to my left a lake,
carp rolling. Sun silvered scales flashing
mirrors in the light
Above my head young squirrels play tag
a deadly airborne game for you and I
warm suns rays filtering through the canopy of rich green leaves

11:00

A passing overhead cloud
the lake now a dark and sombre place
no sign of life there
The squirrels ceased their play some time ago
what do they know that I dont
OK into the rucksack for a cold beer
after all times not a problem

11:30

The suns moving round to my right
throwing strange shadows cast by the bush over there
shadows ever moving, fading and growing
shape changers with every passing cloud
Squirrels are back but no longer at play
Over on the lake a canada goose with 5 young
bundles of fluff
Time to get a photo or two

12:30

Well the suns out again, moved further round now
but over to my left dark ominous clouds are rolling in
The air is suddenly still, sultry, heady with the scent
of flowers
Silence now fills the air, the birds and animals gone to places
only known to them
A lightning bolt rends the grey black sky
its time for me to go
I never made the 3 hour target
but I tried

Gettysburg a small Pensylvania town gave the battle its name
At its end it became a place of graves
Behind the town a small round hill
Guarded by the 20th Maine
Little Round Top hill now held the flank
So that the union troops could now advance
If the grey could crush the line
They could with their lives buy the time
And give Lee the victory he so desired
But the hill was strongly held by men
Led by Chamberlain
Joshua L Chamberlain,  a professor was
A man who had a love of god
But now with blood upon his hand
He and the 20 Maine did make their stand
On Little Roundtop hill
He knew that if his lines did break
The conferderates might win the day
The war might there be lost
With a mighty rebel yell
William Oates and his men did charge the hill
Into a storm of musket ball and minnie round
Now dying men on the ground did fall
Time and time again they charged
Into that inferno of *******
Never ceasing to give the rebel yell
Now Chamberlain with shot near spent
Turned and ordered bayonets fixed
And charged the rebel line
The confederats now turned and fled
Down the hill now slick and red
With the blood of fallen men
Chamberlains men of Maine had won the day
From their duty they did not sway
For many the hill was their last resting place
And in their deaths was no disgrace
Chamberlain had held the hill

I need no church or temple or stately towering mosque
You see I have the hills and forest and my views of the rolling seas

I need no gods in any form except the one I see
You see my only god is nature,  the only god I need

Mangled flesh and shattered bone
The remains of what was once a man
I knew not where he came from, never knew his name
Once a fit young soldier
Now just mangled raw remains
Does it really matter?
Just another families shattered dreams
Another family berieved
Casualty of war, just a name upon a page
Will the generals care about just another grave
Well we gathered up the pieces
About ten pounds of raw red meat
Put sand inside the casket
To help make up the weight
They'll tell you your son died a hero's death
As all our young men do
In truth his limbs were trembling
As the mine he stepped on blew
Oh yes he died for glory on that fateful day
In truth he died for nothing
Just another name on another wooden cross

No mobile phones
No internet
So my children poets whom I love dearly
What would you do?
A scrap of paper
Written on with I'll formed letter
To the girl/boy of your dreams
A grizzled old man
With a droopy mustache
Riding 150 miles
In all weathers with a six horse string
Day and night he'd ride with little food
Little rest
And he would cover that 150 miles
In two days

If he survived the weather and Indian attacks
That then was your internet

Not of a ***** and opened mouth snog
On some suntan oil stinking beach
But rather holding hand's under the moon
And just the gentle brush of lips on my cheek
Barely clad bodies under the sun
Baring their all to those who would look
No, just soft gentle curves left for imagination
To think of pleasures to come
After all there is no hurry to capture your love
For if its true your true love will come
And fourty years later you'll still be holding hands
Under a bright lovers moon

I can't write the words like some of you can do
I can only write the words that in my mind come into view
I can't write words of devotion or never ending love
The inspiration for my words comes from somewhere up above
Yes words about the sea and the gently rolling hills
These are words I know and sometimes get to use
Words can be things of beauty but sometimes cruel and harsh
Some words can tell of sadness while others make you laugh
Some words of fellow poets here cover every point of view
My words are plain and simple but I share my words with you

I can't write the words in the way that some of you can
do
I can only write the words that in my mind come into
view
I can't write words of devotion and never ending
love
The inspiration for my words comes from somewhere up
above
Yes, words about the sea and the gently rolling
hills
These are the words I know and love and sometimes get to
use
Words can be things of beauty but sometimes cruel and
harsh
Some words can tell of sadness while others make you
laugh
The words of fellow poets here cover every point of
view
My words are plain and simple but I share my words with
You

I can't write the words in the way that some of you can do.
I can only write the words that in my mind come into view.
I can't write of devotion and never ending love
The inspiration for my words comes from somewhere up above.
Yes, words about the sea and gently rolling hills
These are words I know about and sometimes get to use.
Words can be things of beauty but sometimes cruel and harsh.
Some words can tell of sadness some words can make you laugh.
The words of fellow poets here cover every point of view
My words are plain and simple but I share those words with you
Just Words

Just some kids at play in the park
We don't care if your white, brown or dark
All we see is our play and our fun
No colour, race, or religion we all play as one
You go to prayers on Friday, I go on Sunday
They are just the names of days, they don't stop our play
So why can't you adults act just like us
No abuse, animosity, no pointless fuss
We're eight nine and ten, just kids in your eyes
But we know what's best,  because even kids can be wise

I have a kitten, well more than one
I have two little bundles of fun
Brothers both and black as jet
With claws that rip my already claw torn back
They vie for a place upon my head while I'm trying to sleep in bed
They devour food in quantities
Enough that would a small army feed
They lie there now with such innocence
But they are devils incarnate in every sense

She was just a little stray dog
Wandering Moscow's cold grey streets
Then claimed in the name of science
By men who must succeed
And so into sputnik 2 they strapped her
And sent it on its way
Little Lemon still unaware
That this was her last day
She still had many years to live
But never had the chance
The scientists said they had a greater need
And so science had to claim her

Get ye now from the city
And smell the country air
Turn your face to the falling rain
Taste the freshness there
See the stars bright in the sky
Unblemished by city smog
Listen to the sounds of night
In cold fresh crystal air
Feel the crackle of the frost
On grass instead of pave
The place where the pace of life is gentle
And you'll go later to the grave
Watch the sun rise on a frosty morn
Colors city folk rare do see
Hear the blackbirds wake up call
Ring out in air so cold and clean
Linger here yet awhile
For there is no rush to leave
Leave your polluted city streets
And walk the country lanes of green