Gentle child sleeping in my chair,
Stay sweet your dreams, free from care,
Rest your head from weary day,
Exhaustion borne from adventurous play.

Gentle child with breath so soft,
Into deep slumber, you have been lost,
Knowing nothing of years to come,
A dreamy smile, you're rarely glum.

Gentle child resting free,
Cast adrift on your dream filled sea,
I wonder what thoughts fill your head,
Tho' I know your imagination is well fed.

Gentle child I hear you snore,
A man as child, yet only four,
You stir from slumber, look of surprise,
Confusion and beauty I see in your eyes.

Gentle child drifts back to sleep,
Your dreams they call you from the deep,
An uncomplicated life, youthful simpleness,
The greatest time, the age of innocence.

Cinco Espiritus Creation
October 2017

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The train it rolls along the track.
The kids all get restless the parents all natter,
But at least they aren’t crying, so that doesn’t matter.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A child hollers out “mum I feel sick!”
“What did I tell you about eating those sweets?”
“Don’t make a mess all over these seats!”

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
The guard sitting bored, in his cab at the back.
We thunder through towns and all of its people,
Passing by churches, and that old pointed steeple.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
A drinks cart on the train? Ah just the trick,
A nice cup of coffee and a cold can of beer,
“How much?  You’re kidding!”  I won’t get much change here!

Clickety click, Clickety clunk,
Oops, sounds like that rail's missing a chunk.
We cross over bridges, spanning their rivers,
I must close that window, it’s giving me shivers.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
I’m getting hungry; I could use a good snack.
Back comes the hostess with her goods laden trolley,
No chance I’m parting with even more lolly.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
So many destinations, which one should I pick?
Should I stay local, or should I go far?
It’s certainly more peaceful than driving a car.

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
It feels like we’re speeding along a fair whack.
The seconds to minutes, the minutes to hours,
From towns and their houses, to fields and their flowers.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
Wherever I’m going, I’m getting there quick.
Bright eyed young faces, an adventure, exciting,
The doddery old folk, complain when alighting

Clickety click, Clickety clack,
We pass many crossings and a ***** old shack.
How many golf courses and quaint country pubs?
And weekend gardeners out pruning their shrubs.

Clickety clack, Clickety click,
These seats so uncomfy, now my neck's got a crick!
Now finally I've reached my long journey’s end,
And I'm glad that I've shared it with you my dear friend.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012

Widnes aint much, but to me she’s sweet home,
Safe refuge from wherever I roam,
Many may claim that she’s ugly and ******,
But open your eyes, and she’s really quite pretty.

From down by the snig, to up to the Crown,
There’s pubs a plenty where sorrows can drown,
The Globe, The Coterie, now Pesto of course,
But to all us old locals, it’s still the Black Horse.

Town centre drunks, laugh while they rant,
Old ICI and their Paraquat plant,
An industrial past, its dirt and its grime,
A ***** old river, her sludge and her slime.

Of nature reserves, we have quite a few,
From out of our wastelands, something wonderful grew,
Wildlife thriving where once we dumped *******,
Now even the Mersey lives once more with fish.

The factory smells that insulted our noses,
Spike Island, proud host once to the Stone Roses,
Paul Simon himself, when loneliness found,
On one of our stations,  wrote Homeward Bound.

The Beatles once played our dear Queens Hall,
Derelict now, no more curtains to call,
We love our music live and loud,
We truly are a passionate crowd.

A sporty town, but leagues our game,
Tho’ recent years have been quite a shame,
Myler, Karalius, Davies, Offiah,
Crowned World champs, our status climbed higher.

Proud we cheered in old Naughton Park,
The cowsheds, cold, smelly and dark,
The glory days, they came and went,
Old fans speak in sad lament.

The whole town’s roads, my how they’ve changed,
Drivers sit there now, all deranged,
Confusing sets of roundabouts,
That lead us there, or thereabouts.

Morrisons, Aldi and now a Tesco,
Asda Halebank, well that had to go,
A curious accent, not manc or scouse,
Just hear us speak with Woolyback nouse.

W’s in words, like one, two, three, foewer,
And entering homes, through a front doewer,
It’s hard to explain in a few lines here,
But a few minutes in town, and all becomes clear.

Bowling, cinema and now an ice rink,
The town is recovering, back from the brink,
There’s Costa, Next, Boots and Wilkos,
Who else is coming, no one quite knows.

Widnes has changed in my 40 years,
But filled with hopes now instead of fears,
Change for the better? Let’s wait and see,
But no matter what, she’s still home to me.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2012

We're all familiar with Dr Seuss,
Tho pronounced like voice, and not like Zeus,
One fish, two fish, the cat in the hat,
With fish exclaiming that mother "won't like that".

Eccentric strange names, bizzarely named towns,
Unusual creatures, his imagination abounds,
There's mean Mr Grinch, where evil's his art,
And poor Herbie Hart, taking his Thromdimbulator apart.

We remember most fondly Horton hearing a who,
And the cat in the hat releasing Thing One and Thing Two,
How lucky you are, with dear Mr Potter,
And his monotonous job as T-Crosser, I-Dotter.

The things that we saw on Mulberry Street,
With so many stories, and people to meet,
Not forgetting the Lorax, or the places you'll go,
Or me singing high with my Ying that sings low.

I read them each night with my dear gentle Ben,
Stories we enjoy, both time and again,
The stories we read, are always his choice,
From the magical worlds of the one Dr Seuss.*

Cinco Espiritus Creation
2017

hypnotising
mesmerising
demonising
terrorising
television is devising
ways and means for
lobotomising

globalising
mesmerising
summarising
vict­imising
mass media is advising
ways and means for
supervising

ostracising
privatising
eulogising
br­utalising*
government is advising
ways and means for
destabilising

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

I like the dark, I like the cold,
Away from life that makes me old,
To stop and ponder what should be,
And escape the life that's crippling me.

I like to sit out in the rain,
The splosh of droplets, relieve the strain,
This crash of water, the growing puddles,
Oft clear my mind, and all it's muddles.

To sit and feel the pelt of hail,
That crisp, sharp sting and blast of gale,
The swirling wind, no sounds of man,
Here I can work out who I am.

I want some time from behind the mask,
I do not think that's much to ask?
I like to get away from it all,
For chance to be the real Paul.

Working out which path to follow,
To stop me feeling empty, hollow,
Where to go, to do what next?
This age old problem leaves me vexed!

From within my soul I feel its growl,
It's evil, demented, cavernous howl,
It's mere presence chills to the bone,
This demon follows, wherever I roam.

Controlling thoughts, fuelling fears,
Crippling ambition, driving tears,
My plans to go forward, it brings to a halt,
As everything in life, is always my fault.

My future remains lost in the haze,
Living with this darkness for all my days,
All that remains, is my epilogue,
I'm living with the big black dog!*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Thomas, Edward, Percy, James,
There is a point, not random names,
Scarlet, Kevin, Stuart, Bob,
I've not gone insane, become a ****.

Manny, Diego, Granny, Sid,
I've not gone hypo like some kid,
Twelve random names that mean great fun,
When watching telly with my son!

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Bubbles, bubbles in a bath,
Splashing child, melodic laugh,
Fishy, fishy with sploshing tail,
Brings a giggle without fail.

Water, water everywhere,
Brings a tear when poured on hair,
Soapy, soapy on the belly,
Leaving infant with fruity smelly.

"Me out, me out" it's time to go,
Watery footprints on the floor,
Squashy, squashy, towelling dry,
A clean little monkey, with gleam in eye.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Paul Simon wrote of sitting at a railway station,
With a ticket for his destination,
A cool autumn morn, and I’m doing the same,
Penning my thoughts, while awaiting my train.

A nice warm coffee cupped in my hand,
My trusty pen, the poet’s wand,
More travellers arrive, their tickets purchase,
While I just sit, composing verses.

My I-Pod blasts out Thin Lizzy live,
The music helps my poem thrive,
People staring, I'm deep in thought,
Me thinks this poem won’t be short.

The train arrives, of course its late,
So much to do, I cannot wait,
We pass through villages, towns and fields,
The lonely scarecrow, no secrets he yields.

The stunning views sure do amaze,
As we journey on through drizzly haze,
The farmer’s fields and their misty shroud,
As I travel further from maddening crowd.

Through the cloud comes a shaft of light,
Then forms a rainbow, bold and bright,
You see the world with a different view,
Or perhaps not, as we pass through Crewe.

Great, sods law, one working loo,
And yes of course, there’s quite a queue,
I-Pod still belting out the tunes,
As along the track, the train it zooms.

Ahh, now my destination is in sight,
Now a cracking day and drunken night,
A time to catch up with good friends,
And where both Journey, and poem ends.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013

I wish I had somebody to hold,
To heal this broken heart so cold,
I wish I had the strength so bold,
To invite somebody into my fold,
A person worth their weight in gold,
To share my days as I grow old.*

Cinco Espiritus Creation
08/02/2017

I'm writing a poem of alliteration,
Promising perfunctory proliferation,
Rendering ragged rambling randomness,
Scribbling stupid spasmodic silliness.

Finding words requires a Thesaurus,
Collecting curses chirography causes,
Needs necessitate natural nuances,
Instead incredible imaginary influences.

This task is beginning to wreck my head,
Beating boredom before bed,
Wretched wistfully wandering words,
Agreeable arrangements absolutely absurd.

Keeping it logical is becoming a bind,
Maelstroms merging, mashing my mind,
Deranged, despairing, definitely diminished,
Fortunately, fudging finally finished.

Cinco Espiritus Creation
26/09/17

I wish I could write like E.A. Poe,
Where dark and sombre, rule the flow,
There's death and despair at every turn,
To have his skill I truly yearn.

Villainous, evil, haunting, macabre,
A poet version of the Marquis De Sade,
His writings dark, visionary, bleak,
Providing no signs of the hope you seek.

A poetic genius, without compare,
His delivery leaves you within Satan's glare,
And why I know this thing for sure,
I wish I could write like E.A. Poe.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

People state that I'm an
Enigma

A badge of honour
Or*
Social Stigma?

© Cinco Espiritus Creation

I did not see your final smile
I did not hear your final breath
I did not feel your final kiss
I did not hug you one last time
I did not know death called your name
I did not know why you had to go
I did not, could not, understand
I did not know I'd missed our last goodbye.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

If I were nervous, would you reassure me?
If I were scared, would you comfort me?
If I were angry, would you calm me?
If I were lonely, would you sit with me?
If I told you my fears, would you understand me?
If I were struggling with my demons, would you fight them with me?
If I were standing on the edge, would you hold me?
If I were screaming out for help, would you hear me?
If I hid behind a smile, would you care for me?
If I told you I needed help, would you be there for me?
If I was no longer here, would you miss me?

When I was nervous, nobody reassured me,
When I was scared, nobody comforted me,
When I was angry, nobody calmed me,
When I was lonely, nobody sat with me,
When I spoke of my fears, nobody understood me,
When I struggled with my demons, nobody fought for me,
When I stood out on the edge, nobody held me,
When I screamed out for help, nobody heard me,
When I hid behind a smile, nobody cared for me,
When I said I needed help, nobody was there for me,
When I was no longer around, nobody missed me.

As I sit and ponder life,
All it's troubles, all it's strife,
On social media I see the posts,
If in need, we're willing hosts,
But is it true?  Let's wait and see,
If I need you, are you there for me?

Cinco Espiritus Creation
11/07/18

Life may not have gone the way you planned,
It's not bad luck, mere lie of land,
Wherever you look, woe's all you see,
Discerning faces suggest "It's meant to be",
Ignorant to events, even on the next street,
Concerned only about the world at their feet,
If you believe that this isn't right,
Then now's the time to stand and fight,
To make a difference,
You have to be the difference.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Follow my heart?
Or follow my head?
A brand new start?
Or emotionally dead?

A person of warmth has cast a spell,
Enchanting eyes, a captivating smile,
Take a chance? Or let it dwell?
The chance I've awaited for quite a while.

The pains of past, cloud my thought,
Fear of pain, fear of hurt,
Thoughts of her, my breath grows short,
But bygone failures, their doubts, exert.

Should I do this?  Should I do that?
Will I do right? Or Will I do wrong?
I'm sick of loneliness, and feeling flat,
Tight in her arms, I feel I belong.

It seems when we chat, I'm finally me,
No mask interferes with the person revealed,
But out in the open, is that meant to be?
Or am I just safer with the real me concealed?*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

A stubborn old man, I may well be,
A blinkered old fool, could well be me,
Opinions as deep rooted as ancient tree,
But are they right?  I'll wait and see!

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Yes there are sharks in our oceans, and sharks in our seas,
Just as cars on our roads, and leaves on our trees,
Same as spiders in webs, and birds in the sky,
It is the way of the world and no need to ask why?

There's no need to panic, and no need to fear,
If you swim in the water, there's a chance they'll come near,
If you don't want to risk it, for fear of attack,
Then stay on the beach, with the sun on your back.

It's really quite simple, there's not much to say,
Tho many won't listen, as I hold no sway,
But if  you like to go play on the waves in the surf,
Just one note of caution, "You're entering THEIR turf"!!!

*Cinco Espiritus Creation
July 2017

With colourful words on paper I paint,
Creating images, some bleak, some quaint,
The source eternal, the well of my soul,
To ease other's burden, my wordly goal.

If what I share, can ease your pain,
Then comfort from words, we both shall gain,
Pains shared by one, can help cure two,
So share my words, my gift to you.


© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

With hypnotic eyes,
So worldly wise,
Soft, mellow sighs,
Giving me butterflies,
Stirring emotional exercise.

Longing for, unwise,
Lonely hearts agonise,
Empty souls realise,
Empathic friends sympathise,
Single nights demoralise.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Society today
Addicted to vanity
Society today
Cursed with insanity
Society today
Littered with profanity
Society today
Has no humanity.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

A daughter is a gift of innocence and charm,
As she lays quite delicate in the curve of your arm,
Her hopes and her dreams you hold safe in your palm,
As she squeezes you tight, you promise no harm.

Pushing her gently on the swings in the park,
Your constant concern as she stays out in the dark,
Fiery and moody, but bright as a spark,
But a place in your heart, she will soon make her mark.

A young daughters first love is always her dad,
Those boyfriends she brings home, just another wild fad,
You look on beyond them, thinking intentions are bad,
But as long as she’s happy, you know you’ll be glad.

To tantrums and tears over the weirdest of things,
The joy and the love with the happiness she brings,
The noise from her room, with the boyband she sings,
Her bedroom all messy with the clothes that she flings.

Your emotions and fears will be dragged through the mill,
At times with her stories, she’ll leave you quite ill,
The time it will come when you mention the pill,
But no matter what, you’ll love her still.

So this daughter that lies safely asleep in her cot,
Will make life’s sad stresses and woes matter not,
Her smiles and her giggles will leave your stomach a knot,
But a daughter’s sweet love, means you have the whole lot.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013

When your time has come, there's no way out,
No matter how much you scream and shout,
There are some who think there are pearly gates,
Where St Peter stands and happily waits,
But what if there is one cruel surprise,
Where you won't believe your very eyes,
Reading it's message, your spirits drop,
"Please exit through the gift shop"

Cinco Espiritus Creation 2017

These shattered pieces of my life,
Failure, repetition, constant strife,
More dark than light, more cons than pro's,
The times I've tried, heaven knows!

Rarely happy, more often sad,
The brightest spark, those calling me dad,
When things seem on track, I'm soon derailed,
And yes I've tried, then failed and failed.

My social circle is very small,
Look very closely, it's only Paul,
I let people in, then I get burned,
Build barriers high, the lesson learned.

I don't need anyone to make me complete,
But a shoulder to lean on, that would be sweet,
Someone to hold, it's been a while,
Someone to care for behind the smile.

Struggles, stresses, over thinking,
Feeling like I'm always sinking,
An outlet for friends, that's never in doubt,
But can anyone hear me when I shout?

A humour so dark, I make others cringe,
But if I let it all out, their soul I'd tinge,
A cry for help you'll never hear,
I just need to know there's somebody here!

To live with loathing, to live with doubt,
Has become what life is all about,
The person you know, warm, sincere,
Has become a mask, my thin veneer.

Branded flirty, often shameless,
Tho deep inside, I know I'm worthless,
And so I share me in this verse,
To help other sufferers lift their curse.

Cinco Espiritus Creation - 2019

Sedition
Repression
Oppression
Regression
Dejection
Rejection
Obj­ection

I wish this depression would find remission*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

Here I sit, glass in hand,
Thinking how life's not gone as planned,
As I stare across the waves,
My mind searches for the adventures it craves.

The sound of gulls fishing on the tide,
Where now? What next?  I must decide,
To coin a phrase, I need strong and stable,
A steady course, well! If I'm able.

As I ponder, wonder, think,
I pop the bar for another drink,
It soothes my mind, it fuels my soul,
As I sit here setting another goal.

As poems go, this ain't my best,
But soul is awakened, from peaceful rest,
As my fire burns stronger there will be more,
Of this I'm certain, in fact, I'm sure!

Tick tock tick tock,
The relentless ticking of the clock,
Click, click, click, click,**
The second hand groans on every tick.

The empty room, the sounds of silence,
The buildings creaks, a melodic violence,
Alone, deserted, remorseless gloom,
It feels as if I’m in a tomb.

The doors are open, the lights are on,
But people visiting, alas there’s none,
No sound of banter, no sound of laughter,
Simple company is all I’m after.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2014

Is there in existence unconditional love?
Where two hearts fit like hand in glove?
Is it possible to give away so much trust?
To see it fail, blown away in the dust?
Is there a love, so impassioned and wild?
I believe that it's true, but only parent and child!*


© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016

They crash, they splash, the waves they roar,
The oceans surge, majestic, raw,
Continuing on hour after hour,
The seas, a source of relentless power.

Across the waves I sit and stare,
In awe of Neptune’s aquatic lair,
The Cormorants fish, sly seagulls pounce,
As on the waves, the pleasure boats bounce.

The tide ebbs back, exposing sand,
Where soon walk lovers, hand in hand,
The smell of sea, the scent of salt,
As seabirds sing their wild exalt.

So murky brown, no clear blue sea,
A ***** river, mesmerising me,
Cathedrals, towers, the odd church spire,
The scrap yard dunes grow ever higher.

The city skyline, like concrete flowers,
The wonders of nature, sadly sours,
To escape their confine, the river flows,
When flooding banks, her power shows.

Along the shore, the waves still roll,
As along the prom, the ramblers stroll,
The sun beats down, the breeze blows slight,
Not a single cloud appears in sight.

The seas they hide their life below,
As mortals fear what monsters grow,
So few have seen what lies down there,
As we rely on breathing air.

She keeps so much unseen by all,
Her area vast, her creatures’ small,
The dangerous, yet mystical, magical sea,
Fearsome to many, but enchanting to me.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013

Afraid to live, afraid to care,
Afraid to give, afraid to dare,
Afraid to scream, afraid to cope,
Afraid to dream, afraid to hope,
Afraid of fears, afraid of deception,
Afraid of tears, afraid of perception,
Afraid of new, afraid of woe,
Afraid of you, afraid of no.

Today is a gift given by yesterday,
But not promised for tomorrow.

Be remembered for your actions today,
As tomorrow you may be forgotten.*

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2014

A son is a gift of sweet, purest joy,
To hold in your arms, a small gentle boy,
His future you hold in the palm of your hands,
To nourish his dreams, for whatever he plans.

From days spent together, with a ball in the park,
To time spent in worry, as he returns home after dark,
Will the girls that he meets be acceptable to mum?
But don’t push him hard, or you may make him glum.

A young son’s first hero, is of course dear old dad,
And nothing you try will ever be bad,
A source all the time, of real inspiration,
But as he grows up, you’re more a frustration.

You’ll bicker and argue over the smallest of things,
But nothing replaces the happiness he brings,
Those first feelings of joy, as you hear his first cry,
Or the happiness in those tears of love in your eye.

He’ll push your emotions and fears to the end,
But he’ll always be there as a loyal and true friend,
Your advice he will take, when he needs it of course,
And he’ll heed it as much as you did to yours.

But a son is a gift you can never replace,
Along with that smile that he puts on your face,
So enjoy this small child as he enters your life,
As he is worth every ounce of his trouble and strife.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2013

I count the times I think of thee,
As empty thoughts drift o'er the sea,
The sand it whips across my face,
As I sit alone in my quiet place.

My dreams they glide above the beach,
As if an aim, far out of reach,
Wondering next, what should I do?
As I sit alone and think of you.

The waves they crash upon the shore,
As I start to wonder more and more,
The cold it bites, with wind's eerie shrill,
As I sit alone in Winter's chill.

The tide it creeps across the land,
As Jack Frost paws with icy hand,
A ship's horn blasts from across the docks,
As I sit alone here on the rocks.

Oblivious to both time and tide,
Wrestling the torment deep inside,
The night draws on, getting ever colder,
As I sit alone growing even older.

The wind and cold begin to sting,
Now spots of rain, just one more thing,
No shelter where the pier once stood,
As I sit alone, as if some driftwood.

Cinco Espiritus Creation
28/12/2016

The exuberance of light,
Is expended by night,
The energy of day,
Dissipates clean away.

Then we are left with just the night,
When we're told nothing is right,
It's contrast to day, stark,
It's best weapon, the dark.

But out in the open.
Despite all your hopin',
Things aren't what they seem,
Feel the night air, calm and serene.

Close your eyes, hear the sounds,
There are no evil hounds,
High above, see the stars,
Look at Jupiter or Mars.

The night is no enemy, nor is it the villain,
It's a time to kick back, enjoy lots of chillin,
The night is portrayed as the theatre of screams,
It's a lie I maintain, night's not what it seems.

© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016