In the heart of our church, a gathering so dear,
Seniors came together, spreading Easter cheer.
Tracey and Caris, with voices pure and sweet,
Sang songs of joy, making the day complete.

Caris at the piano, her fingers danced with grace,
Filling the room with melodies, a warm embrace.
Curry’s staff with smiles, served lunch with care,
Their kindness and service, beyond compare.

Phil's quiz on Easter, a challenge for the mind,
Three rounds of questions, answers to find.
Laughter and learning, a joyous blend,
In the spirit of Easter, hearts to mend.

No cost to attend, just love freely shared,
A community united, showing they cared.
Easter blessings abound, in every smile and song,
A lunch to remember, where all hearts belong.

Boots opens its doors, a quiet sanctuary of care,
The hum of morning settles, soft as whispers in the air.
A clock ticks steady, and so do I, for a check once a year,
To hear what’s changed - or hasn’t - in the rhythms of my ear.

The audiologist greets with a steady grin,
Tools in hand, ready to begin.
A soundwave symphony, a careful refrain,
And he reveals: my hearing’s barely changed again.

We laugh at my quirks, left more than right,
"A bit in the middle keeps you in the fight!"
“Well,” I grin, “I’m balanced, I suppose,”
In a world of echoes, quirks, and prose.

This place, this test, reminds me anew
To listen well to the life breaking through.
Barely changed but steady still, my ears hold the tune,
In this room at Boots, under the morning moon.

Rose, oh Rose, the queen of class,  
She’s dressed in silk, selling wine and grass.  
“Organic kale, it’s simply divine!”  
She twirls her trolley, a shopping shrine.  

Sain strolls by, with a cheeky grin,  
“Rose, dear, not everyone’s posh within!  
My aisles have deals that make hearts sing,
From the Basics line to the finest bling!”  

Tes rushes in with a clatter and cheer,  
“Stop squabbling, mates, I’m here for the steer!  
Clubcard's flashing like disco lights,  
I serve the masses with snacks for their nights!”  

Rose scoffs, “Tes, you’re much too loud.  
Your aisle décor? A tad less proud.”  
Sain adds, “And what’s with the bargain craze?  
Do shoppers dance through your maze?”  

Tes winks, “They sure do! I’m fun and bold,  
My shelves are stacked, my produce gold!  
Rose is posh, and Sain’s okay,  
But Tes  rocks - it’s hip all day!”  

And so they bicker, a trio delight,  
Rose rolls her eyes, Sain laughs outright.  
Tes bustles on with his Clubcard dream,  
While shoppers weave through their retail scheme.  

They’re rivals, it’s true, but in their zest,  
Rose, Sain, and Tes are retail’s best.  
For amidst the banter, one thing is clear—  
Every shop has a place we hold dear.

In the gentle glow of Easter morn, New Springs Church wakes with the promise of new light. Within these walls, a quiet marvel is born - Jonathon Viera, the classically trained singer, taking flight with piano keys echoing decades of sacred song, each note a prayer, each pause a hymn of belonging.

His fingers, memory-laden with operatic art, dance upon the ivories with effortless grace. Here, tradition and revival merge in a single heart where his journey - from eloquent classical training to soulful pop delight, a beacon of hope and light.

The space reverberates with melodies both old and new, resonating like a timeless vow of faith renewed. Each chord, each verse, tells a tale of struggle and breakthrough, of a pilgrim whose voice bridges worlds, tenderly imbued with the passion of a man who sings to remind us all: that in every humble note, life's miracles recall.

In this sacred sanctuary on Easter Sunday, as voices join in prayerful refrain and hearts unite, Jonathon’s song transforms the mundane into a sacred display of art and reverence - a banquet of sound and light. A reminder that every life, every song sung in this space, carries the resonance of a divine, everlasting embrace.

And as the notes drift, weaving through the congregation's prayer, one feels the subtle echo of a legacy so thoughtfully penned— a lyrical journey of a classically trained soul whose music reaches out to mend. May this sonata of renewal remind us, as each chord unfurls, that our lives, like his melodies, are interwoven with the eternal world.

Laughter spills -
sunlight streams,
ripples of gold,
dreams unbound.

Children leap,
arms to the sky,
chasing joy
without asking why.

No walls,
no thought,
just pure delight,
their laughter so bright.

Voices echo,
bellies shake,
a symphony
innocence makes.

Faces glow,
mirth lights skies,
worlds reborn,
joy unties.

Oh, to pause -
to stop and play -
to bask in laughter
and let life sway.

So life hits hard, it’s a twist in the plot,
A moment unexpected, ready or not.
The test says yes, now the world’s in a spin,
Questions flood in - where do you begin?

Fear creeps in, how will they react?
Mum and Dad - will they judge, turn their back?
The truth feels heavy, a weight on your chest,
You rehearse the words, but they’re hard to express.

Finally, you speak, the silence breaks,
Your voice shakes hard, your heart aches.
But they listen close, their eyes reveal,
The bond of love, the strength they feel.

It’s not just shock - it’s care, it’s grace,
They hold you tight in a warm embrace.
“You’re not alone,” Mum softly says,
Dad adds, “We’ll walk with you through these days.”

Strength runs deep, it’s there in your soul,
Facing the unknown, you’re taking control.
Unplanned doesn’t mean you’re lost or alone,
It’s a journey of love, a path of your own.

They’ve gone to rest, a peaceful sleep,
A journey taken, vast and deep.
They’ve crossed the river, sailed the tide,
To golden shores where dreams reside.

They’ve passed away, a fleeting breath,
A quiet exit, not called death.
They’ve slipped beyond, a soft goodbye,
To touch the stars that light the sky.

They’ve met their end, yet not in vain,
A final chapter, free from pain.
They’ve gone to glory, found their peace,
A boundless calm, a sweet release.

They’ve shuffled off this mortal coil,
Returned to earth, to rest in soil.
They’ve joined the ages, the great unknown,
A timeless realm, a world their own.

And though we fear to name it true,  
These words we weave, a softer hue.  
For in their leaving, love remains,  
A thread unbroken, through joy and pain.

The Spark of Questions
Before the first line, before the first word,
There stirs a longing, quiet, unheard.
A dance of questions, restless and free,
Beckons the writer: “Come, follow me.”

Through the folds of time, in the still of night,
In whispers of wonder, in glimpses of light,
Each query lingers, each muse takes its place,
A journey begins through the boundless space.

What will you answer? Where will it lead?
The seed of creation starts with a need.
And so, with each question, the page comes alive,
A mirror of thought, where stories survive.

When Will You Write?
When will you write, dear keeper of tales,
When the morning mist lingers or evening pales?
Do words not stir in the chambers of thought,
Waiting for freedom, a canvas long sought?

The paper lies still, a world yet to be,
A mirror of dreams, of all you could see.
Do you hear its call, soft yet profound,
Whispering secrets without a sound?

When will you write, as the moments pass,
The ticking of time on an hourglass?
Will you let the silence speak through your hand,
Crafting new worlds where hearts expand?

The muse is patient, yet fleeting at best,
Will you answer now or delay the quest?
For the voice within, so eager, so slight,
Asks but one question: “When will you write?”

What Will You Write?
What will you write, with the world at your hand?
Will it be oceans or deserts of sand?
Will it be whispers, soft as a sigh,
Or a cry to the stars that pierce the sky?

What will you write, in the stillness of night,
When thoughts flicker faint, yet burn so bright?
Will you tell of love, of joy, of pain,
Or dance with the shadows that call your name?

Will it be journeys to lands unknown,
Or the humblest truths that you've always known?
Will it be fire that sparks a new flame,
Or an echo of silence, a nameless name?

What will you write, with each fleeting breath?
A tale of beginnings, or whispers of death?
For each word you choose is a seed to sow,
What will it bloom? Only you will know.

Why Will You Write?
Why will you write, with ink that bleeds true?
What calls your heart to paint its view?
Is it the weight of a story untold,
Or the rush of a dream that won’t be controlled?

Will you write for the joy that the words may bring,
For the echoes they shape, for the songs they sing?
Or perhaps to mend what time could not,
To piece together what memory forgot.

Why will you write, when silence prevails,
Will it soothe a heart or tip the scales?
Will it carve out truths from tangled doubt,
Or whisper the secrets that can’t come out?

Perhaps you write to leave a trace,
A mark of yourself in life’s vast space.
To make sense of chaos, to name the unnamed,
To capture a world forever framed.

Why will you write, the muse will ask,
For pleasure, for freedom, or just the task?
The answer is yours—raw, undefined,
A glimpse of your soul through words enshrined.

Where Will You Write?
Where will you write, when the words take flight?
In the quiet of dawn or the depths of night?
Will you seek the solitude of an empty room,
Or let your pen wander under moonlit gloom?

Will you write where whispers meet the sea,
On shores that hum with eternity?
Or beneath the trees, where shadows play,
With nature's rhythm to guide your way?

Where will you write, on the edge of a storm,
Where chaos and passion gather and swarm?
Or will it be peace that cradles your thought,
A sanctuary of stillness, where time is naught?

Will you write in the heart of the city’s roar,
Where the pulse of life demands much more?
Or perched on a hill, where the sky expands,
And the world feels small in your open hands?

Where will you write, the question will say,
In places unknown or just where you stay?
For the space you choose holds the seeds to grow,
Each word a path to the worlds you’ll show.

The Writer’s Journey
Through questions asked, a path unfolds,
A tale unwritten, yet quietly told.
When the pen will dance, what the ink will say,
Why the muse calls, where thoughts will stray.

Each query shapes the writer’s art,
A mirror of self, a map of the heart.
And so, the page, no longer bare,
Becomes a world crafted with care.

The quest to create is timeless and vast,
A whisper of future, a shadow of past.
For in these questions, answers ignite,
The boundless rhythm of those who write.

Words flutter, fragments of dreams,
Caught like whispers in rushing streams.
The blank page stares, a daring abyss,
A canvas of whispers, demanding a kiss.

The soul stirs, nudged by a fleeting glow,
A spark, a tempest, a story to sow.
It strikes like lightning, fierce and unkind,
Leaving its echo, etched in the mind.

The pen wavers, uncertain, yet bold,
Tracing thoughts where truths unfold.
With rhythm and rhyme, a melody ignites,
Flickering flames in the depths of night.

Each line a thread, unbroken, unbound,
Weaving through silence where secrets are found.
Yet words resist, they falter, they run,
A battle begun before it is won.

The heart spills ink, raw and untamed,
From chaos, a pattern, unnamed, unclaimed.
In the end, a poet dares to unmask,
A poem is not written; it is asked.

The tick-tock fades, a distant heartbeat of the unseen clock.  
Moments lose their grip, unravelling threads of before and after.  
You step - not forward, not backward - but out -  
Into the stillness, the vast, unmeasured expanse.  

Here, eternity hums its ageless tune,  
Where no hour rises to stake its claim.  
No race to run, no countdown to fear;  
Just the boundless now, serene and infinite.  

Breath flows steady, untangled from urgency,  
Feet tread lightly on ground untouched by haste.  
The soul expands, reaching where hands could not,  
Discovering the rhythms beyond the cage of seconds.  

Time, a frame shattered by the joy of escape.  
No ticking binds the heart that dares -
That dares to step outside,  
And taste the freedom of what simply is.

I stand before the glow - a prism of light and promise, a stage where shadows dissolve into spoken truth. The camera captures my heartbeat in pixelated whispers, each word a bridge, each pause a silent invitation.

Here on this channel, my sanctuary of bright ideas, I unfurl my poems like banners against the digital dusk, speaking directly into the soul of the lens, where audience and artist share a single, pulsing gaze.

The frame holds all my dreams, a mirror of aspiration, as I read verses that echo the rhythm of my being. Curiosity and courage dance at the edge of each line, illuminating hidden worlds set free by my voice.

This is more than a channel - it’s a gathering of hearts, a digital home where the magic of language transforms into a symphony of presence, resonating deep and true. With every reading, I cast a net of empathy and wonder, inviting viewers to step closer, to feel their own light.

And so I begin, microphone and lens intertwined, sharing my art directly with the observer, where each spoken poem marks a moment of shared truth, a pledge that here, in the glow of the camera, we are all the story, the voice, the enduring beat of life.

I plant each poem like a seed,  
into the soil of Hello Poetry,  
where words bloom, bright or shy
a garden growing as days go by.  

Two hundred seventy-seven blossoms strong,  
each verse a thread, each thought a song.  
But oh, the dream, the quiet plea,  
to tip the scale of symmetry.  

For sixty-three souls have found the hue,  
of my written worlds, my skies of blue.  
Yet in whispers deep, ambition stirs,  
to gather more hearts where poetry whirs.  

More hands to hold these fragile blooms,  
more voices to echo their subtle tunes.  
Followers to surpass the poems I’ve sown
a milestone carved in my heart's stone.  

So I keep writing, planting anew,  
each word a bridge to those who pursue.  
One day, I’ll stand where dreams collide,  
where followers and poems walk side by side.  

And with each new soul who joins the feast,  
this garden of words shall never cease.

Bluebells softly sway,
Whispers of spring in the breeze,
Nature's quiet song.

During life's vast fray,
Remember, everything will be okay.
Not perfect, not without pain,
But in the end, we'll stand again.

Through tempests that twist and winds that wail,
We'll find our way, though paths may fail.
Not every day will shine so bright,
Yet dawn will break after each night.

In moments when the heart feels strained,
And every effort seems in vain,
Hold on to hope, though it may sway,
For in the end, we'll find our way.

Not every tear will cease to fall,
Not every wound will heal at all,
But strength will bloom like a resilient flower,
And in the end, we'll be okay.

So take a breath, and face the fight,
With courage drawn from inner light.
Not perfect, not without dismay,
But in the end, we'll be okay.

Dear valued friend, we must confess,
A change is coming, we address.
From three to five, the price will rise,
A shift we make with heavy sighs.

Costs have grown, we can't deny,
To keep our shop, we must comply.
With heartfelt thanks, we hope you'll see,
This step ensures our quality.

We cherish you, our loyal guest,
Your understanding, we request.
Though prices change, our care remains,
In every product, love sustains.

So, with this note, we humbly share,
Our gratitude beyond compare.
Thank you for your trust and grace,
Together, we'll embrace this phase.

In the hushed woods, solitude cradles me,
As the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee
Infuses my hands with gentle warmth,
And memories of Joy drift like soft petals
In her cherished spot where bluebells bask in a dreamlike haze.

Beneath the delicate veil of morning mist,
The trees bow in silent adoration,
Whispering secrets of distant yesterdays
In the rustle of tender leaves and the murmur of the breeze.
Light and shadow engage in a quiet ballet, echoing forgotten smiles.

I wander along winding trails where memories lie hidden
Among tangled roots and freshly sprung shoots.
Each soft footfall on the familiar earth
Revives whispers of past laughter
And stirs a tender dialogue between what was and what is.

In the gentle glow of the unfolding day,
Echoes of Joy linger like faint footprints
Across the heart of the forest; a delicate imprint
That speaks of love and quiet resilience,
As nature’s eternal hymn offers solace in every sigh.

So I surrender to this living reverie,
Where absence and presence entwine in quiet harmony,
And every moment, like a petal adrift in a stream,
Carries the bittersweet cadence of life;
A promise that even in solitude, hope blooms anew.

I'm drunk, I'm drunk, I'm a silly owd sod,
Stumbling through the still shiver of the early night;
Each step a clumsy sonnet written on cracked pavement,
Every stumble a verse that mocks my fleeting might.

The fog of memories curls around neon glows,
Where lamplight winks in rhythm with my muddled heart.
Here, life is a scattered bottle of bittersweet prose,
And each shattered shard reminds me of its fragile art.

I laugh at the irony in this unsteady parade,
An ode to lost directions and moonlit confession.
In the echo of my antics, the city's secrets are conveyed,
While the pavement hums along in a raucous procession.

For in every spilled pint and every whispered rue,
Lies the raw, untamed truth of being splendidly flawed.
Though my path is crooked and the night askew,
I dance with destiny: a drunken, beautiful fraud.

And so I wander, a silly owd sod beneath the sky,
Grateful for the chaos, the laughter, the imperfect song.
In every stumble, there’s a glimmer that refuses to die,
A promise that in brokenness, we all somehow belong.

Sweet lure in the air,
Gentle touch wins eager wings,
Kindness draws them close.

As wings are drawn, hands extend

Warm hands reaching out,
Broken hearts begin to mend,
Kindness heals the soul.

A tender warmth spreads outward

A ripple of warmth,
Softly spreads through endless streams,
Kindness lights the way.

And in the light, words fall softly

Gentle words cascade,
Soft rain on a thirsty field,
Kindness breathes new life.

Life finds bridges in open hands

A hand softly held,
Bridges built in quiet care,
Kindness mends the world.

Under a mended sky, stars glow

Stars guide weary souls,
Kindness shines, a steadfast light,
In darkness, it glows.

Each glow, a spark ignites anew

Each act of kindness,
A small spark igniting hope,
Fires warming the cold.

Kindness, a soft spark,
Igniting hope through the dark,
Mends hearts, lights the way.

A Sunday afternoon unfolds, soft and unhurried, like a ribbon untied. Malbec, velvet and dark, spilling its whispers into the glass.

The film begins, its story weaving, a tapestry of shadows and light. Characters speak of love, loss, and the ache of dreams unfound; their words mirrored in crimson ripples.

Each sip a revelation, smooth as silk, each scene a moment etched in time. The wine hums of distant vines, of lands kissed by sun and shadow, where laughter mingles with the soil.

Outside, the world hums faintly, but here, a stillness lingers, sacred, a communion of story and sip. A Sunday framed in simplicity, wrapped in the richness of Malbec’s embrace. And so you linger—until the credits roll.

And then...

The first salad of the season— a whisper of renewal on the tongue. Tender leaves, new-born and green, crisp with secrets of earth awoken.

Cucumber slices cool as spring rain, tomatoes blushing with sunrise hues, a drizzle of olive oil weaving through, like a stream winding in sunlight.

Each bite holds a promise, a fragile hymn to fleeting freshness, a reminder that seasons turn, and with them, we grow anew.

So here’s to your first salad, to the bloom of brighter days ahead, to the joy of savouring life’s simplest, sweetest gifts.

Words and sword, both sharp and keen,
Their letters intertwined, unseen.
One forged in fire, steel and might,
The other born from thoughts in flight.

A sword can pierce the flesh and bone,
Its damage plain, its pain well-known.
But words can cut much deeper still,
Invisible wounds that time can't heal.

A careless word, a thoughtless jest,
Can scar the heart, disturb the rest.
Its echoes linger, haunting dreams,
A silent cry, a muffled scream.

Yet words can also heal and mend,
A soothing balm, a loyal friend.
They lift us up, they make us strong,
A gentle touch, a heartfelt song.

So wield your words with mindful care,
For they possess a power rare.
Choose kindness, let your heart be true,
And brighten someone's world anew.

A sword may rust, its edge may dull,
But words endure, their impact full.
They shape our lives, our paths they chart,
For words and swords both touch the heart.

In the quietness of the night, I wake,
To an empty space where you once lay.
Your touch, your laughter, our shared jokes,
Echo softly in my heart, where love still stays.

Two years have passed, yet time can't erase,
The warmth of your presence, the light of your grace.
Though fewer tears now fill my eyes,
Your memory lingers, like stars in the skies.

In the quiet moments of the day,
I hear your voice, though far away.
Your laughter, your smile, your gentle touch,
Are memories I hold, and miss so much.

Life continues, as it must,
But in my soul, there's a quiet trust.
That love endures beyond the veil,
In every whisper, in every tale.

The days we spent, the dreams we shared,
In my heart, they're always there.
Though time moves on, and seasons change,
Our love remains, never estranged.

I miss you deeply, yet I find,
In cherished moments, you're still entwined.
In the rustle of leaves, in the song of birds,
I find comfort in your unspoken words.

At dawn and dusk, in the gentle breeze,
Your spirit lives on, bringing me peace.
Though you're gone, you're never far,
Your memory shines, like a guiding star.

In every moment, in every breath,
You live on, beyond life's death.

1 Corinthians 10:31 (NIV) says:
"So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."

I do it all for the glory of God,
Through every step, on this path I trod.
In moments of joy, and times of strife,
I seek His guidance, in this life.

For every ache, and every pain,
I find solace in His name.
With faith as my anchor, and hope as my guide,
I walk with Him, by my side.

In the quiet of the night,
In dawn's first light,
I lift my heart, raise my voice,
In His love, I rejoice.

Through trials faced, and victories won,
I give thanks to the Holy One.
For in His grace, I find my strength,
To carry on, at any length.

I do it all for the glory of God,
With every breath, and every nod.
In His light, I find my way,
And in His love, I choose to stay.

Dancing on the edge of death,  
where the air tastes like fire,  
and shadows stretch long against the fading light.  

Each step defies the weight of gravity,  
a rebellion against silence.  
The wind murmurs secrets,  
but I refuse to listen,  
too lost in the spinning, the leaping,  
the delicate balance between falling and flight.  

Flames brush close,  
a fleeting warmth,  
but never a burn.  
Ice kisses the edge of my fingertips,  
a promise of stillness,  
yet I twirl past it,  
a refusal to be caught.  

Time splinters into fragments,  
moments scattering like glass on the floor.  
Each shard catches the light—  
brief, radiant,  
a fleeting glimpse of eternity.  

There is no partner here,  
only the rhythm of my own heartbeat,  
steady, resolute,  
guiding my motion through the abyss.  

I dance where the line blurs,  
where every ending hides a beginning.  
The edge is narrow,  
sharp,  
but it holds me still.  

Breathing in the infinite,  
I step forward again,  
dancing not for fear,  
but for the freedom found  
in each defiant motion.

In the still hours beyond midnight, I sit alone - I ask:
"Who am I beneath these layers of dreams and doubts?"
A soft voice within replies,
"You're the echo of all the gentle questions you've ever dared to ask."

Beneath a sky scattered with silent stars, I wonder - I whisper:
"What truth lies hidden in the rhythm of my heartbeat?"
That inner murmur answers,
"Each pulse is a verse of the divine, a quiet reminder of your own eternal light."

When darkness casts its long and lingering shadow, I confront my fear - I question:
"Is this solitude a prison, or a sanctuary of self?"
The voice within gently assures,
"In the quiet, you find the courage to embrace all that you are - even the parts that ache."

On wings of memories and fragile hopes, I search for meaning - I softly inquire:
"Can sorrow and joy dwell together, intertwined like day and night?"
The inner dialogue unfolds,
"Yes; every tear holds the seed of new growth, and every smile is born from the silent struggle."

At the threshold of a new dawn, as light delicately brushes away the dark, I reflect - I murmur:
"Will I ever truly know myself, or is this journey unending?"
And the voice within offers its eternal comfort,
"In each question lies your endless becoming, and in every answer, the journey circles back to you."

And so, in this quiet conversation with my soul, I march onward,
Each inquiry a stepping stone, each response a whispered embrace of truth,
Together weaving the timeless dialogue that unites fear and hope,
Until the silent night gives way to the radiant promise of day.

"The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the wicked and the good." – Proverbs 15:3

When people told me God is watching you,
I heard the ancient whisper of a covenant true,
In every trembling leaf and drop of dew,
His presence endures in all that we pursue.

"The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness." – Zephaniah 3:17

Upon the olive hills where prophets once trod,
In the hush of dawn and the murmur of prayer,
The Almighty’s gaze spans both heaven and sod,
Bestowing grace and guidance everywhere.

"Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me." – Psalm 23:4

In valleys deep where shadows often reign,
When weary hearts falter under sin’s decree,
His watchful love breaks through like morning rain,
An everlasting promise to set the spirit free.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." – John 1:5

As voices of old proclaimed in burning light,
Their words ignited hope in souls forlorn,
So too does His vigilant mercy shine bright,
Turning broken night into a radiant morn.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus." – Romans 8:38-39

Sing now of redemption and the sacred art,
Of lives redeemed by a love that won’t recede;
For no soul escapes the reach of His heart,
In every tear, He plants a hopeful seed.

Beneath the stars that trace His timeless care,
We walk the path lit by His eternal glow;
In every step, a sacred bond we share,
As in His watchful eyes, our true home we know.

It's the gold of a late afternoon,
a girl and her collie wander along a winding lane;
the soft murmur of nature as their quiet tune,
their hearts aligned as they share joy and refrain.

She readies a ball with a gentle, knowing smile,
tossing it high into a sunlit arc above;
the collie's eyes brighten and pause awhile,
waiting for the "go" command—a moment of trust and love.

Every throw turns into a playful ballet,
a dance of learning, where patience finds its place;
the collie holds still until she's ready to say,
"Go on, run!" while they revel in that shared space.

Yet amidst the frolic and echoes of cheer,
nature reminds her of duty in the open air;
she crouches to pick up where responsibility is clear,
a simple act of care—a moment honest and rare.

For in each throw, each pause, and the mindful clean-up time,
lie the harmonies of life's adventures, both playful and true;
every command and every gesture, a gentle rhyme,
weaving joy and accountability into everything they do.

I’m still me, through every storm,
A soul unchanged, though not the norm.
The world may spin, its colours blend,
Yet deep within, I do not bend.

Beneath the masks, the layers peel,
A truth unspoken, now revealed.
Though labels shift and shadows flee,
Through it all, I’m still just me.

No tide can sweep my core away,
No wind can steal my light of day.
The journey winds, the path may sway,
But who I am will always stay.

So here I stand, my voice set free,
Declaring proud, I’m still just me.
No fear, no doubt, no shame to hide,
A spark of truth, a flame inside.

I’ve done it now, the die is cast,
No turning back, the moment's passed.
A spark ignites, a bridge ablaze,
The path ahead, a murky haze.

With trembling hands, I face the tide,
No place to run, no place to hide.
Yet in this chaos, whispers sing,
A daring step might bloom a spring.

For in the fall, there’s room to soar,
To find a way, unlock the door.
I’ve done it now, a leap, a vow,
To shape my fate, to seize the now.

In quiet corners of a dusky past,
Whispered secrets formed a hidden art.
A truth unspoken, lingering, vast,
Awaiting the dawn to ignite my heart.

I emerged like sunrise over a new day,
Revealing colours once too shy to bloom.
No longer confined by a single way,
I now claim every hue in full room.

Each bond, each gentle glance along the way,
Unites a spectrum, endless and profound,
In tender love that grows with each new day,
I celebrate a truth by which I'm bound.

Freed from the chains of a binary frame,
I stand, unmasked, in radiant multipath.
Bisexual brilliance, a cherished name,
Guiding my steps with its resplendent wrath.

For in every connection, wild or mild,
I discover the world in ceaseless refrains.
In owning this truth proud, unbowed, beguiled
I find my soul’s home, unbridled and unchained.

I see love in its many forms,
Boundless as the sky at dawn —
Each connection a gentle storm,
A dance of shadows and of song.

I embrace every tender thread,
A whisper, a glance, a unique smile.
In each divergent path ahead,
I find unity in every mile.

Love speaks a language without bounds,
Transcending names and shifting guise
In every heart where warmth is found,
A universal truth gently lies.

No chain of norms can cage this art,
As rivers merge into the endless sea.
Every soul plays its sacred part,
In the mosaic of you, of me.

In every bond—be it fierce or light,
I celebrate the colours, every hue.
They interlace our days and nights,
A medley forever true.

For in the open space where hearts align,
Differences dissolve and grace prevails.
Love, in all its forms divine,
Is the song that in our silence sails.

Hushed whispers in the dark,
Infinite dreams ignite a spark.
Journeys weave through veiled skies,
Life unfolds, where wonder lies.

Horizons stretch wide, unseen,
Intertwined paths where hope has been.
Joy awakens in quiet bloom,
Lifting hearts from shadows' gloom.

Harmony whispers through time,
In its flow, rhythms sublime.
Journeys beckon, hearts take flight,
Life unfolds in endless light.

Hope cascades like morning dew,
Infinite paths appear anew.
Joyful souls in quiet roam,
Life becomes its own sweet home.

Horizons call with quiet grace,
Into the void, we leave a trace.
Journeys carve the stories told,
Life a flame, both fierce and bold.

Humble hearts embrace the night,
In stillness find the softest light.
Jovial sparks in darkness play,
Life awakes to greet the day.

Hidden truths in silence bloom,
Infinite echoes fill the room.
Junctions met with love unbound,
Life renewed where hope is found.

Hands entwined in steadfast trust,
In these bonds, our dreams adjust.
Journals penned with stars above,
Life aligns with endless love.

High above, the cosmos hums,
Into its arms, our spirit comes.
Jubilant, the heart takes wing,
Life ascends where angels sing.

Holding fast to dreams we chase,
In the ether’s vast embrace.
Jubilant cries of hearts ignite,
Life ascends beyond the night.

Homeward bound yet ever free,
In each moment, infinity.
Journeys lead to where we start,
Life, the rhythm of the heart.

Tica tica tica timex,
The clock ticks on the wall,
Counting seconds, minutes, hours,
In a rhythmic, endless call.

Tica tica tica timex,
Time's dance never slows,
Moments pass like fleeting dreams,
As the river of life flows.

Tica tica tica timex,
Morning breaks anew,
Sunrise paints the sky with gold,
A canvas fresh and true.

Tica tica tica timex,
Afternoon's warm embrace,
Children laugh and play outside,
In a joyful, carefree race.

Tica tica tica timex,
Evening's gentle sigh,
Stars appear and twinkle bright,
As day bids night goodbye.

Tica tica tica timex,
The moonlight softly gleams,
Casting shadows on the floor,
Whispering midnight dreams.

Tica tica tica timex,
Memories in its wake,
Cherish every precious tick,
For each is ours to take.

Tica tica tica timex,
Life's journey we embrace,
With every tick and every tock,
We find our own sweet pace.

Seeds of habit grow,
Softly sown, their roots take hold,
Chains hard to unbind.

F♯ is G♭
In a realm where the moon hugs a bright balloon,
A spoon listens softly to a far-off tune.
Stars hide in jars with dreams tucked away
And even sharp notes find a home in play.

For here in our cosmos of chaos and art,
Every note sings a secret straight from the heart.
In this magical sphere, where opposites chat,
We whisper with wonder, “F♯ is G♭ - imagine that!”

The universe twirls to a rhythm so light,
Where silly, surreal sounds make the dark bright.
Each note, a spark in a fantastical debate,
Proving that strict rules can sometimes wait.

So join in the mirth, let your spirit take flight,
Dance with the stars in the soft lunar light.
For in this delightful, nonsensical spin,
Every tune is a story where adventure begins!

Starlight Sonata
Deep in the velvet of a midnight sky,
A symphony of secrets begins to sigh.
The piano of stars chimes soft and bright,
Every key a dream in the heart of night.

F♯ mingles with G♭ in a cosmic embrace,
Notes waltzing freely through time and space.
Each twinkling melody, both bold and sweet,
Whispers that wonder and whimsy do meet.

Nebula Lullaby
In a world where clocks gently unspin,
Celestial rhythms invite us in.
The moon, a gentle guardian, holds a balloon,
While spoons and jars hum a quirky tune.

Celestial choirs in a cosmic parade,
Sing of hidden treasures in midnight’s glade.
Every note, a spark in a dreamy flight,
Guides little hearts in the dance of night.

The Cosmic Chorus
Join the cosmic chorus, let your giggles flow,
Dance with the stars as they twinkle and glow.
In this magical realm where rules are few,
Every sound sings a story that's ever new.

So let us celebrate the freedom of song,
Where every note tells us we all belong.
In the playful realms of this musical maze,
Find joy in chaos and light in each phrase.

The moon in June held a bright balloon,
It sang a tune to a sleepy spoon.
A loon in a dune found a silver cocoon,
And marooned a prune by the light of noon.

The star went far to hide in a jar,
While dreams would gleam on a shooting star.
A cartoon divine began to shine,
And danced in line with a heart of pine.

The glow did show on a field of snow,
Where streams would flow in a steady row.
Art made its start on a luminous chart,
While play found a way to warm the heart.

Then the moon dipped low in the crimson tide,
Where shadows and sparks began to collide.
A spoon tipped over and joined the spree,
Twirling in tune with the galaxy.

A chart sang boldly, declaring the fight,
Against gloom and doubt in the shimmering night.
Dreams broke free in a starry parade,
And nonsense ruled as the dawn delayed.

Flames flicker, dancing in the night,
A hungry force, a mesmerizing sight.
It breathes with no lungs, it roars without a mouth,
A blazing fury heading north or south.

It devours the weak, yet warms the soul,
A paradox born from its fiery control.
Tamed in a hearth, or wild in a spree,
Fire's essence burns bright, fierce, and free.

Born of the earth, and a gift from the skies,
It whispers in sparks, and in embers it lies.
Fuelling creation, yet striking with dread,
A force that gives life, or leaves ruins instead.

It shapes the land, leaves ashes behind,
A power of passion both cruel and kind.
Through ancient rituals, it lights the way,
A beacon of hope at the end of the day.

Much like fire, life fiercely burns,
Through joy and pain, it twists and turns.
With warmth it heals, with sparks it ignites,
Fuelling dreams through endless nights.

A fragile balance, a force untamed,
Both life and fire can never be claimed.
They forge ahead, with a ceaseless drive,
Ensuring the world remains alive.

Casting a net through life's quiet streams
Reflecting dreams in waters below
Amid whispers where serenity gleams
Pondering truths in the gentle flow

Every dawn whispers secrets untold,
Through skies painted in hues of gold.
Holding moments fleeting and fine,
Echoes of existence in a grand design.
Reflections dance on a serene stream,
Eternal visions, like a dream.
Amidst the quiet, beauty thrives,
Life's ethereal glow forever survives.

There was a nice man called Geof
Who's hair is always a mess
But that doesn't matter.
Always a smile and a chat
Because Geof is a lovable prat

In a town not too far, where the skies are always blue,
Lives a girl named Isabel, so full of dreams and new.

She loves to scribble wiggly lines, with crayons oh so bright,
Making rainbows and swirls, such a magical sight.

Her bicycle waits by the door, red and shiny, too,
Together they race down the path, as fast as the wind blew.

And then there's Bun Bun, her fluffy toy friend,
A rabbit so cuddly, her companion till day's end.

Bun Bun joins the scribbles, with a giggle and a hop,
They doodle and play, and never want to stop.

So here's to Isabel, with her heart so full of glee,
May your wiggly lines and adventures be as grand as grand can be!

In a quaint little town, not far away,
Live two lively ladies who brighten the day.
Joyce and Cherry, a dynamic pair,
With laughter and stories, they fill the air.

Joyce, with her wisdom and sparkling eyes,
Shares tales of the past, under sunny skies.
Her garden blooms with colours so bright,
A testament to her nurturing light.

Cherry, with her wit and infectious cheer,
Brings joy and warmth to all who are near.
Her laughter echoes through the streets,
Turning every moment into a treat.

Together they dance, through life's grand parade,
With grace and charm that never fade.
Their friendship a bond, so strong and true,
An inspiration to all, in all they do.

So here's to Joyce and Cherry, a marvellous duo,
Whose lively spirits forever glow.
In every heart, their legacy stays,
Two shining stars in life's grand play.

Sunlight softly spreads,
Spring's serene symphony sings,
Silhouettes shimmer,
Sky's splendid spectrum shines,
Sparrows serenade,
Sweet scents swirl,
Sunrise's serene splendour.

Born of the stars, in their fiery embrace,
The atoms within us found their place.
Forged in the heart of celestial light,
Scattered through space on a supernova's flight.

Carbon, oxygen, iron, and gold,
Elements ancient, countless and bold.
Through eons they travelled, across cosmic seas,
To form the Earth, the land, the trees.

In every breath, a star's old sigh,
In every cell, a piece of the sky.
Our blood holds iron from stellar decay,
Our bones bear calcium from light years away.

But what have we done with this cosmic gift?
We poison the air, let the oceans drift
With plastic islands, choking the waves,
Turning Earth's beauty into shallow graves.

Fossil fuels burn, the skies grow dim,
A planet gasping from humanity's whim.
Forests fall, their whispers ignored,
While greed and carelessness cut the cord.

We are stardust, yet we betray our kin,
The life that thrives, the world we're in.
It's time to awaken, to mend and restore,
To honour the cosmos and harm it no more.

The stars gave us life, a chance to create,
Let us not squander it with reckless fate.
For in every breath, in every stride,
We carry the universe, our guide and pride.

In the stillness where shadows recede,
A promise glows, your soul is freed.
Through your journey, Danny, trials and tears,
Hope has whispered through the years.

In passing, a doorway, not defeat,
A warm embrace you will meet.
Arms extended, a light so pure,
A love eternal, steadfast, sure.

The weight of pain, the chains of strife,
Fall away into the gift of life.
With every step, peace held tight,
Now you walk into the light.

To Pauline, in love’s embrace,
Know Danny finds eternal grace.
Though parted now, his love remains,
Through cherished times, in joy and pains.

To Helen and Rob, his guiding pride,
His love lives on, deep inside.
In every smile, in every tear,
Your father’s spirit lingers near.

For Zachary, Esmie, Jacob, and Euan, dear,
Know Grandpa’s love is always near.
In laughter’s echo, in stories told,
His warmth remains, a heart of gold.

A gentle peace, a light profound,
In that place, Danny is unbound.
Forever held, forever known,
In love's embrace, he is home.

Written With sympathy by Geof

Version 1
The bench beneath me, sunlit and still,
A perch for gazing, a world to distil.
Children scattered, a vibrant tide,
Feeding ducks, then rushing the slide.

A boy, face smeared with bread’s white trace,
Flings crumbs with an urgent, determined grace.
The ducks converge, a flurry of wings,
Ripples spreading, nature sings.

On the swings, a girl takes flight,
Her giggle bright, her hair alight.
She leans forward, daring the breeze,
Feet reaching high to the tops of the trees.

The slide claims its turn, metallic and grand,
A queue forms, restless, with grains of sand.
One child hesitates, then takes the leap,
Their laughter rises, joyous and deep.

Parents linger at the edges, near,
With watchful eyes and echoes of cheer.
The park alive, a canvas displayed,
Moments of wonder in sunlight replayed.

From my quiet seat, I watch and I see,
A world alive, endlessly free.
Time halts briefly in this golden space,
Children’s joy leaves a lasting trace

Version 2
The bench, my ship in a sea of spring,
Anchored in sunlight, where sparrows sing.
Children dart like kites unbound,
Their laughter the breeze, a joyous sound.

A boy, a maestro with breadcrumbs in hand,
Conducts a symphony on the rippling strand.
The ducks waltz in their feathery parade,
Water their stage, sunlight their cascade.

A ******* the swing, a pendulum in play,
Her hair catches the sun’s golden ray.
She soars toward the heavens, toes tracing skies,
A tiny comet with endless tries.

The slide gleams like a dragon’s tail,
Inviting the brave to its glistening trail.
One child hesitates, then takes the dive,
Emerging below, electrified, alive.

Parents hover like guardians of lore,
Their faces lit with quiet rapport.
The park blooms with stories untold,
Moments like petals, both fragile and bold.

From my quiet harbour, I sip the view,
A kaleidoscope of life, in every hue.
Time pauses here, where innocence thrives,
A canvas painted with radiant lives.

The remains of yesterday linger like mist in the hollows, thin threads of memory woven into the fabric of the present - soft, unravelling, yet clinging still.

Her laughter lingers in the air, a melody too tender to fade, its echoes caught in the spaces where her presence used to bloom.

Her knitting rests in the corner, a quiet testimony to her hands, once so busy crafting warmth from strands of soft wool. The needles, now still, catch the light like silver slivers, their rhythm silenced.

A half-finished scarf sits folded exactly where she left it, two years untouched, its colours as vibrant as her smile. Each stitch holds her touch, her care, her quiet patience - a thread of her love extended into the unseen future.

The faint scent of her perfume rests on the sleeve of an old coat, a fragrance that stirs the quiet ache, a bloom of longing that never quite wilts.

Photographs lean against the walls, her eyes alight with the joy of life, the crinkle of her smile frozen in a moment the years dare not touch.

The laughter that once danced through these rooms has quieted, but it rests, softly, in the silence, like the murmur of her spirit, just beyond the veil.

The scent of rain brings her back - she loved the way it painted the earth, how it coaxed life from the soil. Now it washes the days anew, but it cannot wash her memory away.

Each fragment, each shard of yesterday speaks her name, tenderly, as the sun rises indifferent, its light scattering over the stillness, over the spaces she once filled.

And in the quiet between the hours, she stirs - half-shadow, half-light - remnants of what we left behind, whispering, unforgotten, her love forever etched in the marrow of time.

The moon is high, my little one,
Its silver light shines just for fun.
The stars are sparkling up above,
Whispering softly, "You're so loved."

Sweet dreams, my child, let worries fade,
Rest where the night casts its gentle shade.
The breeze is singing through the trees,
A lullaby upon the seas.

May fields of wonder fill your rest,
With dreams of joy and all that's best.
A garden bright, where flowers play,
And golden streams light up your way.

Sweet dreams, my love, the world is still,
The moon will watch from the quiet hill.
And when the sun peeks through the skies,
I'll be here when you open your eyes.

Dipsy-la-lo-di-da, the hippo wore a hat,
And flew to the moon on the back of a gnat.
A penguin proposed to a blueberry pie,
While a sock did karate and yelled, “Hi-yah, fly!”

The toaster recited a Shakespearean play,
While the fridge breakdanced in a furious display.
A llama in glitter invented a sport
Juggling noodles in a pizza-filled fort.

Dipsy-la-lo-di-da, the cactus sang jazz,
As jellybeans tangoed with purple pizzazz.
A submarine surfaced in a giant teacup,
And declared, “I’m the king of this syrupy sup!”

The stars turned cartwheels and burst into song,
While spaghetti noodles swung Tarzan-style along.
A turtle in tap shoes just couldn’t be beat,
Winning gold medals for his two left feet.

So twirl with a trumpet and cha-cha with cheese,
For in nonsense, the universe bows to its knees!

Beneath the soil where silent shadows sleep,
The earth enfolds its secrets, stark and steep.

A graveyard grieves in ghostly, grim embrace,
Where time has traced its touch on every face.

Moonlight lingers on marble, marked and marred,
Casting cold clarity where lives were scarred.

The breathless breeze bears whispers, weak and wan,
Of fleeting figures, here but never gone.

Frail and finite, all flesh must face its fate,
To tread the twilight toward the eternal gate.

Yet even death, with darkness so profound,
Cannot confine what faith and love have found.