Have you ever sat and pondered
In a darkened room;
Reality melting away
In the murky gloom,
Ignoring gravity's attempts
To try and hold you tight,
Heading off into space on a
Magic-carpet flight?

Did you explore the Universe,
Travel through all time,
Contemplate your own existence;
Even think of mine?

Did you ever find the answer,
To the question, Why?
Did you really want to return from
Flying through the sky?

Did you come back with a jolt when
Someone came in the room,
Did the bright light startle you;
Did reality resume?

We had a most horrid schoolteacher,
And us children did all hate her,
She’d shout at us for no real reason,
And threaten to see us later,
She had a dip on a Florida trip,
And was swallowed by an alligator,
But only crocodile tears were shed,
‘Cos we were all just … gladiator!

Coastline, rocky, rugged, proud,
Crumbling cliffs in ozone shroud,
Sun-kissed drifts of desert sand,
Golden frame of a sea cradled land.

Fishing village, atmospheric hub,
Brass band playing, outside quaint old pub,
Boats, all sizes, rest near harbour wall,
Wading birds sift through tide-filled pool.

Foliage explosion of a Cornish hedge,
Country lanes snake, and young birds fledge,
Ruminants, punctuating, quilted hill,
Buzzards soar and wise hares are still.

Tin mine engine house, towering stack,
Roof caved in, gorse and bracken’s back,
White clay peak, geometrical and sleek,
Earth’s riches gouged, canyon deep.

Moor-land, open, untamed, granite strewn,
Wild ponies dance to a skylark’s tune,
Tor and beacon, barrow and mound,
You’re in God’s own country, when you walk this ground.

My Baby:
Don't be too quiet yet don't be too shrill,
Don't be too restless, but neither too still,
Please grow up hardy, yet soft to the touch,
Not seeking too little, nor asking too much.

Years later …

My Child:
Don't be precocious, yet don't be too shy,
The middle-sized apple of you father’s eye,
Don't be too forthright, nor keep to yourself,
Don't be too daring; but care for your health.

Years later …

My Son:
Don't aim too high, nor get stuck in a hole,
Nor hang back if offered an uninspired role,
Please don't take the high road or even the low,
The main road is best ... not too fast or too slow.

Years later …

My Epitaph:
Here lies a man, who knew how to conform,
Who never left harbour, for fear of a storm,
Avoiding the hot and the cold for lukewarm,
In loving, but not too loving, memory,
Of your only son ... Norm.

Picked from the garden of life,
As unique as any flower,
As beautiful as a rainbow,
Trapped in an April shower.

Like a blossom pressed and dried,
Its colour fading never,
I have pressed you
Between the pages of my life,
Where I hope you will stay forever.

My name is Chris,
Her name is Alice,
We’re cocooned in
A plantastic palace,
While balanced on
The woodlands eaves,
We banquet on
What others leaves,

We’re pillers of
Socie-eat-he
We pay our debts
And dine for free,
But our sights are set
Up in the sky,
For we’ve been promised
One day we’ll fly!

Chosen Child, crowned this night,
Whilst fireworks light the sky;
Take over please as ruler now
Before we elders die.

We leave you all this Planet and
Dark Universe beyond;
Your word will travel far and wide,
Like ripples on a pond.

Our generation tires now,
The baton we pass on;
Please take it and run swiftly, for
The human race ... goes on.