The deaf man heard the church bells ring,
The blind man led him there,
The arm-less put their hands together,
The leg-less knelt in prayer,
The mute's song filled the church with such joy,
There was no room for despair
And as for those sat in the empty pews ...
Sadly, they weren't there,
The deaf man heard God's mighty word,
The blind man saw the light,
The leg-less marched along with pride,
The arm-less joined the fight,
The mute sang lustily, joyfully bringing
The words of the Bible alive,
But as for those sat in the empty pews ...
Sadly, they didn't arrive!

Life’s hustle and bustle has ended,
Now I’ve passed away, deceased,
My new terra firma home,
A guarantee of eternal peace;
Never disturbed by clamour or noise,
I don't even hear a sound,
In this world unknown to the living,
Within the ravenous ground,
No one here is the least impressed
By status, rank or class,
Deep below the skylit realms
Of fresh-green, new-mown grass,
The worms treat everyone the same,
Whether noble born or serf,
As I idle away my leisure hours,
Under neatly replaced turf,
No need ever to work again,
I've had my share of toil,
As my weary bones I rest forever,
Amidst the once feared soil,
I reflect on life's rich journey,
A long winding path, well-trod,
Time for contemplation assured,
Beneath the mounded sod,
This place is now home to me,
I don't think of it as a tomb,
Birth and death entwined as one,
In Mother Nature's womb.

Do you know what it’s like
To have your freedom back at last,
To be able to choose new colours
Once pinned out of reach to the mast,
To find tho’ you’ve lost your employment,
You can still keep hold of your pride,
To discover the grass is greener
On the unexplored other-side,
To patch up your battered ego,
Once thought irretrievably torn,
To feel a strong urge to celebrate,
When others expect you to mourn,
To take a fresh look at careers,
When you thought it was all in the past,
To discover your destiny’s liquid,
And never in concrete cast,
To realise your aspirations,
Which no more are held on ice,
To alter your life’s ingredients,
And add a small pinch of spice,
To discover you’re no longer frightened
By things that are different or new,
To embrace all those sensible changes,
And take a much loftier view,
To keep everything in context,
And never let monsters appear,
To look to you dreams and take aim,
Keeping your sights crystal clear,
To be intimidated no longer
By applicants younger than you,
To know a wise captain will always
Choose an experienced crew,
To retain your sense of adventure,
Your instinctive love of fun,
To put down the now closed chapter,
And enjoy the one just begun,
To be welcomed back to life’s table,
And invited to sit down and dine,
To feast till you’re utterly bloated,
And swill it all down with sweet wine.

Do you know what it’s like
To be required no more,
To be put out to grass,
To be kicked out the door,
To know your work’s ended,
No more will be done,
To be slung on the tip,
Pushed aside by the young,
To be pensioned off
In an unceremonious way,
To know you’ve had your’s -
Every dog has its day,
To have an appetite for work,
But be left to hunger,
To be replaced by someone
More able and younger,
To be told you’re too old,
When you feel in your prime,
To be sent on your bike,
Before it’s your time,
To be all washed up
And flushed down the drain,
To have no physical wounds,
But still be in pain,
To feel your age,
Find you’re no Peter Pan,
To see your life going
No longer to plan,
To recall when you felt rich,
But now you feel poor,
To hear your heart slowly pumping,
Alas’ it races no more,
To experience an emptiness
That nothing will fill,
To have no medical symptoms,
But still feel ill,
To be out of control
Of your own destiny,
To be constantly asking
Why me ... why me?

What a great reptile,
A Royal Python - no less,
A serpent so dapper;
Never seen in a mess,
Non-poisonous, deaf, mute;
Except for its hiss,
It likes nothing more
Than to hug and to kiss!

Though it has no arms,
Harmless it is not,
Make no mis-snake a
Mean streak it has got,
Outside of its coils
The view is just fine,
But if invited inside
You'd be wise to decline!

Don't be enticed in
By its hypnotic stare,
For when those coils tense,
They act like a snare,
For those patterned coils;
Look brill' from without,
But lose their appeal
When wrapped
Around your snout!

Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach.

The sea reclaims its myriad young,
Kidnapped by clouds, thunder-slung;
The storm is long past with calm all around;
Albatross glide, with a whisper of sound.

Seagulls circle, dogfish sleep,
Gannets dive and dolphins leap,
But black clouds return and lightning flashes
O'er storm-tossed seas, as thunder crashes.

Once more a stealthy cloud abducts infant water,
The sea's own offspring: a son ... a daughter;
The thief sets off at a wind blown pace,
The anguished mother unable to chase.

The criminal finds refuge in a partisan crowd,
A formless body in a vaporous shroud;
The cloud has no guilt, shows no remorse,
But heads inland on a predestined course.

A hill stands guard, like a customs post;
It stabs the guilty, but allows past the host;
The rogue cloud is ruptured, severed seam and pleat,
Releasing its captives and accepting defeat.

Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach ...

I want to walk in my golden years,
On the Cornish beaches’ warm gold sands,
Where my footsteps are unhurried,
And my route is seldom planned.

I want to sit on the wooden benches,
Overlooking those dark blue bays,
I want to breath in this fresh salt air,
Until the ending of my days.

I don’t want to become immortal;
Living for forever and a day,
I just want to savour life in this world,
No matter how long or short my stay.

I don’t want my life extended for the sake of it,
With no reason or rhyme,
I just want to live in the here and the now,
And enjoy this - my quality time.