Today a blackbird gave me inspiration.
It floated casually towards the ledge.
Inches away, only a thin piece of glass between us.
It stared, looked me in the eyes,
Opened my soul with its piercing eyes.
Gouged away until it found some real meaning inside.
Twitched, no, that wasn’t a twitch,
It was a motion, a signal,
A glorious method of communication –
No pigeon could mimic that!
It ushered my eyes towards the beauty of the lake,
And away from its black and grey and blue
And (I’m sure many other coloured) body.
My eyes were dragged from this beautiful, overweight creature
To the forever-moving, forever-living lake,
Then to the fountain.
Six shoots of white water kept the sky where it belongs.
They held it – of course! The sky!
The blackbird had given me light.
The sky was alive, the clouds were rolling,
The sun was breaking through,
And as I re-adjusted my eyes to thank him,
The blackbird leapt from his perch,
Cawed a “you’re welcome”
And soared towards heaven.

You define what this life is worth.
Fame and fortune are irrelevant.
The brightest star gifted to Earth,
Higher than the lucky heaven-sent.

The glove that is a perfect fit,
I’d jump without a thought for you.
If you catch then so be it,
If you don’t then that suits too.

For you are a poem that captures wonder -
Unforgotten and kept close by.
You are romantic rolls of thunder
Shaking tears from the silent sky.

The dew that drips from morning lands,
The white foam of a waterfall,
The sunset by the Cayman sands,
The nightingale’s vibrant call.

You are the beautiful view of a cliff
From the edge as you watch the beauty below,
Before I fall off and think you are gone
But cling on to you tightly and never let go.

Comic relief can’t numb the pain within.
An indestructible toilet stands alone.
That lonely toilet made of white porcelain,
Is all that’s left of some poor man’s home.

Boredom, normal working day,
Normal person, bills to pay,
Sunny skies soon turn to grey -
Fiery explosion.

First a bang and then another.
Building shakes, he ducks for cover
Fear sets in, he starts to quiver –
Salt can cause erosion.

Quickly he begins to stumble
As his world begins to crumble,
Screaming soon becomes a mumble –
Miracle to conjure.

Building cannot help but shake,
Decision of how to die to make.
Fire or concrete which will take
The lifetime of the plunger.

He runs and jumps for all he’s worth,
Screaming like he was at birth
Seeing the toilet of the Earth
And the lifetime of the plunger.

The world, it seems, is crap sometimes.
You’ve just got to hope and pray:
For the poor souls who get the worst
And the hope that on another day
You are not the plunger.

To some twas a majestic force,
Mysterious and beautiful,
Courageous and never full
From a vast, adventurous feast.
It roamed – a horn upon a horse,
A gallop one could never cull,
It thought itself invincible,
Yet to some it was a beast.

Its orchestra – a masterpiece
Assembled from around the Earth,
But labouring perfections birth
Was a harpist’s absent beat.
The pains of searching now could cease
As landing upon emerald berth,
The unicorn unearthed its serf
As sublimity filled that seat.

The harpist liked her homely scene,
Despite its audience so small.
She’d rather stay than leave it all
And face the unicorns stampede.
And so she suffered wrath obscene:
She was forced to attend the ball,
Waiting centuries for the call
To leave an orchestra based on greed.

In present day the harp is home,
Back to where it is meant to be,
Beauty played independently,
But the unicorn does not mourn,
For now both creatures often roam
To a ball outside of history
And play a peaceful melody:
“The Harpist and the Unicorn.”

Bus, man, world, waiting.
Orange, blue, sand, sea.
Home, dream, stop time -
Eyes just like life.
Pain finally away.

In 1995 when I was four
And watching films like all the other boys,
I heard great Tom and Tim and sat in awe,
As they told me a story about toys.

I met a boy (called Andy) just like me
Obsessed with cowboys, dinosaurs and war.
His toys, they came to life. He failed to see.
Their lives revolved around his closing door.

They soon became my friends and helped me grow.
I saw them once again in ninety nine.
Ole’ Buzz and Woody taught me all they know,
But failed to tell me when it would be time.

Now Andy’s off to college as am I
And to our childhoods we must say goodbye.