Sea calm,
Crew slept,
Dark side,
Sea kept,
Tide raced,
Waves crept,
Crew woke,
Sails prepped,
Coiled spring,
Waves leapt,
Overboard,
Crew swept,
Left behind,
They wept.

For the sea has no respect
For the nautically inept …

Countless poppies now grow
Where men had once stood,
Or had peered from a dugout,
Or had hidden in a wood,
Where bullets had hailed and
Young lives were squandered,
As poisoned gas smothered
And big guns thundered,
Those in charge must have surely
Questioned and pondered.

Poppies grow in peace now,
Gunfire no longer heard,
Let this be the case forever
For PEACE - is the golden word.

Just a young sapling
With an unhindered view,
It chose its position
And then grew where it grew.

Just a singular tree,
Not in a forest, copse or wood,
Preferring its own company,
It stood where it stood.

A tree in its infancy
Coping with life’s highs and lows,
It takes on all challenges
And it grows where it grows.

Standing resolutely alone,
An independent tree,
This somehow reminds,
Reminds me of me.

Cornwall is my homeland
And it will always be,
A large part of it surrounded,
Surrounded by the sea.

Cornwall is my homeland,
It’s where my roots are deep,
And this connection with my forbears,
I feel a strong desire to keep.

Cornwall is my homeland,
Of me it is a part,
For it resides within my soul
And is branded in my heart.

Cornwall is my homeland,
It’s where I will always stay,
And when my days are over,
It’s where I will surely lay.

A child’s daydreams;
They come, then, go,
They crystalize,
Then melt, like snow.

The young child plays;
She knows no troubles,
Her daydreams drift,
Like clouds of bubbles.

Her life, so simple now,
No stress, no strife,
May this remain so,
The whole of her life.

Don’t always march to another’s drumbeat,
Nor always dance to another person’s tune,
But march in time to your own heartbeat and
Dance and dance, till you reach the moon …

The Cornish shore …
Where golden sand lies next
To dappled grey granite rock,
Where the sea breeze sweeps
And the mussels flock,
Where the rock pools gather
And the small ***** patrol,
Where the white foam curls
And the breakers roll,
Where the sea birds call
And the salt spray stings,
Where the seaweed sunbathes
And the limpet clings,
Where a stream’s course meanders,
And reflects the azure sky,
Where a starfish gazes skywards
And white clouds go scudding by.

By all means take treasured memories,
But please take nothing more,
And leave nothing but your footprints
On this sacred Cornish shore …