I knew a young girl turned from duckling to swan,
Walked home with her and agreed on a date,
Ne’er saw her again, I just hope she got on,
Got home, was grounded - for being too late,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

Another young girl, was just fresh from her home,
She took my body and then stole my soul,
For a while I was lost and was forced to roam,
Reputation gone and had lost my goal,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

The next young lady, she had stolen my heart,
We worked together and played for a while,
And at just the wrong time we were forced to part,
Her illness broke me and I fell a mile,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

Another young lady, I realised too late,
Mutual ambition, a joint path to take,
She found ambition, and left me to my fate,
I learned at that time, I’d made a mistake,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

A lady then more experienced than me,
Walked paths I was not sure I wanted to walk,
Confused I followed but not able to see,
Progress relies on ability to talk,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

Next was the lady, who was to be my wife,
She taught me to love, our hearts were entwined,
But for my true love, illness robbed her of life,
This time, forever, my life did unwind,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

I met someone new, giving what I had left,
Gave my heart and soul, risking all for her,
When she left, I was completely bereft,
Even among friends, there is no other,
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

The children have grown, they have their lives to live,
Grandkids are growing, their kids will soon be,
Unconditional love, to all I do give,
But who will be there, to give it to me?
Things go wrong but the hurt mustn’t show.

Now mail comes through the letterbox,
Not as often as before,
Now it’s just bills and other shocks,
That rock me to the core.

Now calls come by the telephone,
Not as often as before,
Mostly it’s just the dialling tone,
Voicemail just as before.

Visitors come and ring the bell,
Not as often as before,
Now just the salesmen come to sell,
Not the ones I adore.

Now I live here just on my own,
Not just as it was before,
Lovers and family have all gone,
They visit me no more.

Invites out come now and again,
Not as often as before,
Kids and grandkids don’t see the pain,
The suffering and the sore.

I fall asleep so well at night,
Not as often as before,
Comfortable in my bed by right,
But resting is so poor.

The ink is running out,
The lines are not yet written,
To send the information about,
The cause with which I’m smitten.

The ink will not refill,
So writing is not yet possible,
To let people know my will,
The cause that I made visible.

The paper remains white,
The words are still in my head,
I cannot target those who I fight,
I will find other means instead.

The time is running out,
The heart is not yet smitten,
Of whom I always talk about,
About whom these words are written.

My heart will not refill,
It’s empty and all too cold,
I let her know I will,
Love forever till I’m old.

My soul remains white,
My voice is like a dove,
I can’t convince her I’m right,
That she needs my love.

Printer …
Fighting …
Election …
Love …
Sighting …
Rejection.

No longer am I sorry
No more than I should be
No longer do I worry
If no love I see.

I’ve given all I can
I’ve shared it out with all
If love is not worth sharing
It’s not worth ‘owt at all.

I’ve given up my crying
I’ll carry on for good
But remember when I’m sighing
I’m only flesh and blood.

No! I won’t say I’m sorry
No! Indeed I should not be
But if anybody’s crying
Pray – not over me.

An Ode on Love

We moved so fast, that no-one sees
And should we see, no-one listens.
Time is our friend, never stopping
Time is passing, unto our end.
But – in the meanwhile –
Love is all.

Youth transcends here, all is beauty.
Should we see it, who understands?
Time is our friend, ageing is slow.
Time is passing, lets us forget.
But – in the meanwhile –
Love is all.

Spring has long passed, all blooming green.
Summer went too – but was it seen?
Time is our friend, now autumn’s here.
Time is passing winter’s near.
But – in the meanwhile –
Love is all.

We moved so fast, we missed the sun.
If we’d caught it, who is bothered?
Time is our friend, time for waiting
Time is passing, but it’s too late.
For – in the meantime
Love was all.

But while love withers,
Love never dies
Wherever it hides.

Catharsis is a cleansing, so deep in every way
We don’t know where it will come from
It won’t come to us every day
It cleans the body, the soul, the psyche and the heart
So deep we didn’t know ‘twas there
But provides us with a restart.

Upon a time before this, my life had been so good
Simple certain, clear and loving
As every partnership should
A premature end arrived, so far before its time
Robbing life of its clarity
Leaving a mountainside to climb.

Starting out was a mission, sent from up above
‘Twas a journey without guidance
Rejecting and accepting love
The past had been long dying, the future not yet clear
The present was so uncertain
Waiting a word that I could hear.

She’d told me that I must go, my help was needed now
My future was now decided
A new furrow I was to plough
The route to go was unclear, masked by hidden pitfalls
Problems I’d not met before
Answers helping to scale walls.

The road was full of challenge, ignorance and mistakes
To rescue those who needed it
To rebuild there from life’s earthquakes
She told me of an angel, flying close to the ground
I knew that I would be left
Love was the greatest healer found.

Through this time of recovery, my life again seemed good
Simple certain, clear and loving
As every partnership should
The end came just as before, so far before its time
Robbing life of its clarity
Leaving a landslide to climb.

Starting again was so hard, no word from above
‘Twas a journey without guidance
Rejecting and accepting love
The past had been long dying, the future not yet clear
The present was so uncertain
Waiting a word that I could hear.