twisted, gnarled, bent he stood,
ebony brown, of burled wood,
humble creature of tortured form,
hillside weathered through life of storm

battered by the highland gales
that swept the sweet and sunny dales,
contorted by the skies' assails
that hit and pounded as wind to sails

crushed, not broken, zoetic substance
gave new meaning to reluctance
as it withstood those blasts of dread
that left its brothers broken 'n dead

i lent against its ancient bark
to hear its secret of immortality
how to survive when all is dark
when you be victim of brutality

i heard its voice in rustled leaf,
in soft breeze and zephyr,
perchance the whisper of forest nymph
or murmur of the satyr

its voice was as a swaying sheaf,
its song was joy and not of grief,
its message true, profound and brief,
shibboleth that is nature's motif

it whispered of that low, sweet root,
from which all heavenly virtues shoot,
"The bending low before the brute
enabled me give forth my fruit".

I'm knocking on your door
Don't you hear?
Speak to Me. Implore.
Show a tear.

When your tears meet Mine,
Together we shall rejoice,
As moonlight is sun's shine
Yours will be My voice.

I'm knocking on Your door,
I don't know how to speak...

My breathing's a loud snore,
Deep 'n fast asleep.

I'm crying and You Hear,
I'm just too confused to know,

It's been another year
when wild daisies grow.

As the sun goes down for the night
Take a moment to clear your mind
Close your eyes and become still
Savor it
Listen to the silence
As the heat calms down
Look up towards the moon
Notice its luminescence

As the world finally slows down
Slow down your heartbeat
Think about the good things you have

As you get ready to rest for the night
Let your body relax and carry you off to sleep
As you wake for the next day
Smile for a chance at a brand new start
Treasure each moment as they are a gift

I take a look at the Word of the Day
And I honestly don't know what to say,
Or to put it in another way,
I'm nonplussed about the word today.

But that doesn't mean I can't make a rhyme,
if somewhat crass 'n not too sublime,
and I've kept the beat in this wonderless chime,
So here's my offering, offered in time.

We wandered up the mountain-side
me and a mate of mine,
though hard-going, we kept our stride,
managing just fine

but lo, the weather, it weren't our friend,
surrounded the hills with mist,
so to our steps we had to tend,
in case a step we missed

Surreal was our surrounding,
wrapped by whitest blanket,
sight of ours confounding,
yet bow we did 'n thank it

for there is beauty in the unusual,
albeit not what we wanted,
for it made for the delusional,
as if the fells were haunted

well, on this hike that I tell of,
on place of hardest rock,
in order that i not fall off,
i slid down on me buttock.

and as extra care was needed there,
i dropped my rucksack down
on plateau beneath rock-stair
that i shouldn't break me crown

and what do you think happened next,
just wait until i tell you,
for it made my mate be mighty vexed
and caused a ballyhoo

said rucksack with his camera 'n drone
of almost two thousand quid
it started rolling off the stone
and down the scree it slid

over 'n over it somersaulted
like an egg omelette,
and i tell ye, as it vaulted,
my son, i did so fret

to my luck, there was little harm done
to his precious dear contents,
to his drone was damage none,
but his camera had glass indents

it'll cost him three hundred ton
to fix that iPod good
but what else should I have done?
I did the best I could

what think you, was this aleatory?
should I pay up all the same?
what say you of my story,
am I the one to blame?

I'll cast a line into the sea
of words and letters and thought,
i'll wait impatiently to see
when first the line grows taut
what rhyme or underlying notion
my fishing-line has caught
from the blackest depths of ocean
my darker shadows have wrought

my line is slack, there's nothing biting,
no monster taking the bait,
there's no thought or anything igniting,
i suppose i've more to wait.

but what if another power
has beat me to the chase
tiredness at this late hour
has placed me in deepest straits
has mulcted me of thoughts and words
so that i canna think straight?

but, hey, at least this pathetic nerd
has managed to keep his place
in making rhyme, albeit blurred,
for BLT's challenging race.