First things first, can you imagine what's about to happen?
A spark in the darkness, a dawn quietly tapping.
In the stillness of the morning, dreams begin to stir,
The world awakens, potential's soft whisper.

Beyond the horizon, the unknown waits,
A journey unfolds, opening gates.
With every step, new wonders to find,
Adventure and magic, intertwined.

Questions unanswered, mysteries to seek,
Courage found in moments so meek.
First things first, with eyes open wide,
Embrace the unfolding, let curiosity be your guide.

From the simplest breath to the grandest view,
Life’s surprises await, in hues ever new.
First things first, imagine what’s to come,
A world of possibilities, for you to become.

Second things second, as we chart our course anew,
From the echoes of beginnings, visions come into view.
With each step deliberate, we traverse the unknown,
Building on the whispers of dreams already sown.

In the dance of life, each moment builds upon the last,
A symphony of seconds, weaving future from the past.
Second things second, foundations strong we lay,
Guided by our passions, lighting up the way.

Courage in the heart, and wisdom in the mind,
Through trials and triumphs, treasures we shall find.
Second things second, with purpose we proceed,
Nurturing the seeds of hope, for every need.

In the journey of existence, no step is left behind,
Each act, each choice, a testament designed.
Second things second, as our story intertwines,
Creating a masterpiece, where every moment shines.

Third things third, as we walk this path ahead,
With hearts aligned to purpose, by inner compass led.
Step by step, the road unveils, unfolding tale untold,
Moments turn to memories, a treasure to behold.

In the quest for meaning, in the search for truth,
Every action ripples, echoes from our youth.
Third things third, with intent we make our mark,
Each choice a shining beacon, lighting up the dark.

In the symphony of life, each note finds its place,
Harmonizing stories, in a timeless space.
Third things third, building dreams with care,
Crafting our existence, here and everywhere.

Through joys and trials, through laughter and tears,
We weave our lives together, conquering our fears.
Third things third, a journey we embrace,
Writing our own story, with love and grace.

Fourth things fourth, finally the moment to arrive,
The culmination of our journey, where dreams come alive.
With every step behind us, we've grown, we've learned,
The fires of our passion forever brightly burned.

In the dance of destiny, we find our place,
With hearts unburdened, with hope we embrace.
Fourth things fourth, the pinnacle we seek,
Strengthened by the trials, resilient and unique.

With the cacophony of time, each thread interwoven,
Crafting tales of wonder, in every life that's chosen.
Fourth things fourth, as we reach this height,
A celebration of spirit, a beacon in the night.

Words like whispers fly,
Dreams unfold in silent night,
Hearts dance in moonlight.

Near and far and here and everywhere,
The whispers of the wind, they fill the air.
In the quiet of the night, under the star's gentle glare,
Dreams are woven, spun with tender care.

From mountaintops so high, reaching for the sky,
To the deepest oceans, where mysteries lie.
In the heart of the forest, where nature's beauty is bared,
Wonders never cease, near and far and here and everywhere.

In the eyes of a child, wonder pure and bright,
In the wisdom of the old, a guiding light.
Through the trials and tribulations, the journey we share,
Life's tapestry is woven, near and far and here and everywhere.

Through the seasons' changes, as time marches on,
From the dawn of the day to the setting sun's song.
In every smile, every tear, every silent prayer,
Love's essence lingers, near and far and here and everywhere.

In the heart's deepest corners, where dreams reside,
In the connections we cherish, the bonds we cannot hide.
With every step we take, with every breath of air,
We find our place in the universe, near and far and here and everywhere.

Roses are green,
Violets are red,
I tried to write a poem,
But my brain felt dead.

In the grand facade of high society's ticker,
Beneath the dazzle, sparkle and all the glitters,
Lurks a truth they often bicker,
Just all fur coat and no knickers.

Masks of smiles painted thicker,
But hearts grow colder, lines grow sicker,
Chasing shadows, dreams grow slicker,
Lost in all fur coat and no knickers.

Hope blooms like morning's flicker,
Find your worth, let nothing snicker,
For life's more than fur coat and knickers,
Let courage rise, love bloom quicker.

In the dance of highs and lows, my mind spins its own rhythm.

In the halls of L Grammar,
Where knowledge and wisdom should bloom,
There stood a figure of intimidation,
A presence that cast a shadow of gloom.

Mr. F, the English teacher,
His words, a weapon sharp and cold,
A teacher whose authority ruled,
But left us feeling small and controlled.

With every lesson, fear did linger,
A tense atmosphere filled the air,
His voice, a booming thunderstorm,
A reminder of the power he’d bear.

He demanded excellence, unyielding,
With little patience for our plight,
His methods harsh, his standards high,
Turning our days into endless night.

Yet, in those moments of resilience,
We found strength to endure and cope,
For even in the face of adversity,
We held on to dreams and hope.

Mr. F, a paradox of power,
His influence, a lasting mark,
In the classroom's shadows and beyond,
We learned to find our own spark.

For an instance, I forgot my wife,
In the whirlwind of moments, life's swift race,
A fleeting lapse, a blink of time,
Yet in my heart, she holds her place.

In busy days and hurried nights,
When memories flutter like the breeze,
A moment's pause, a quiet breath,
Her presence gently brings me ease.

Though time has passed, her love remains,
A constant light that guides my way,
Her laughter echoes in my heart,
A solace in the darkest day.

For even in those briefest slips,
When focus shifts, and thoughts do stray,
The bond we shared is unbroken still,
Her spirit near, come what may.

In the classroom's dusty gloom,
Where dreams and lessons intertwine,
A mischievous schoolboy sits,
With a spark in his eye, so bright and fine.

His mind wanders far and wide,
Beyond the walls of the old school hall,
To lands of dragons and daring knights,
And treasures hidden beyond the thrall.

He doodles in the margins,
Of his tattered notebook page,
Imagining adventures bold,
That could fill a thousand stage.

Yet, when the teacher calls his name,
He snaps back to the present day,
With a sheepish grin, he answers quick,
And promises to stay, to learn and play.

For in the heart of every lad,
A world of wonder lies,
And though he may be mischievous,
His dreams reach for the skies.

An empty glass sits solemnly, a silent plea for more.
Its once vibrant contents now but a memory, a thirst waiting to be quenched.

With every sip, the world grew brighter, a dance of flavours on the tongue.
But now, the glass is void, hollow, its promise unfulfilled.

Oh, to taste that elixir once again, to feel the warmth, the joy it brings.
A moment of indulgence, a sip of bliss, to chase away the evening's emptiness.

Refill the glass, let it overflow, with the essence of life's simple pleasures.
For in that vessel, we find more than drink, we find connection, laughter, and moments to cherish.

So, raise the glass high, let it be known, an empty glass is but a call to action.
Refill it, and let the night continue, with stories told and memories made anew.

In the realm where words collide, where creativity flows like a river, we gather, a constellation of voices, each one shining with its unique light. We are poets, dreamers, and storytellers, weaving our thoughts into the tapestry of existence.

I think we love you.

In the quiet moments of reflection, when the world falls silent and still, we find ourselves inspired by one another. Your words, a spark that ignites our imagination, a catalyst for creation, a reminder that we are not alone.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you share your heart, with verses that resonate with truth and vulnerability. Your poetry, a window into your soul, an invitation to explore the depths of our own emotions.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you paint with words, crafting images that linger in our minds, like the brushstrokes of a master artist. Your metaphors, a bridge between the tangible and the abstract, connecting us to the beauty of the unseen.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you challenge us, pushing the boundaries of our thoughts, provoking us to question and reflect. Your poetry, a mirror reflecting the complexities of the human experience, a testament to our shared journey.

I think we love you.

It's in the way you listen, offering your presence and understanding, a safe space for our voices to be heard. Your support, a beacon of light, guiding us through the darkest nights, reminding us that we are valued and appreciated.

I think we love you.

And as we come together, a chorus of voices, we realize that our connection is not a fleeting moment, but a growing bond, a community of kindred spirits, united by our love for words.

I Know I love you.

Calm down, Trump, breathe deep,
In the room where power meets,
Unity, our light.

Red red wine, Malbec rich and caramel,
In your depths, a world unparalleled,
With hues so dark, and flavours so sweet,
A journey of senses, in every sip we meet.

From vineyards lush, where sunbeams dance,
Your essence captured in a glass, a chance,
To savour the richness, the soft embrace,
Of caramel notes, with each trace.

So, pour the Malbec, let the moments unwind,
In every drop, your story we find,
Red red wine, with your decadent charm,
You warm our hearts, keep us from harm.

The yin and yang of life, in you is personified,
In love and light, both soft and bright, you stride,
Embracing all that comes within, a heart so free,
Dancing to the tune of dual kin, a soul set free.

Two souls in one, a tender embrace,
The fluid dance of life's sweet grace,
Boundaries blur, the lines dissolve,
In your spectrum of love, we all evolve.

Through night and day, dark and light,
In your gentle sway, we find our flight,
The yin and yang, in life's own way,
In you, bi personified, we sway.

A world in hues of blue and pink,
Where hearts can wander and calmly think,
In your balance, we find our truth,
Yin and yang, in love's own booth.

You are a powerful reminder, rich and multifaceted,
Every person, love, and experience, intricately crafted,
In you, we see the beautiful tapestry of existence,
Embracing every colour with gentle persistence.

The thorns of life are pricking me, and it’s ****** uncomfortable,
My mind a tangled garden of roses, and the stem is a story of harsh brambles,
Winding their way around my sanity, tearing at the fabric of serenity,
But I grasp them anyhow, for the scent of dreams is worth the pain.

Each jagged edge a reminder of existence, raw and unapologetic,
Yet in the blood and grit lies beauty, fierce and unfettered,
So I dance through this thorny maze, wild, unfaltering,
For it is the struggle that shapes me, moulds my courage, my soul.

I am getting old and my back creaks,
But I refuse to slow my pace,
With a mischievous grin, I embrace the years,
Living life with a touch of grace.

I dance in the rain, I sing out loud,
I wear bright colours, I stand out in a crowd,
I laugh at the rules, I break the mould,
Forgetting the notion of growing old.

Wrinkles are badges of adventures had,
Each grey hair a tale of fun,
I chase my dreams with reckless abandon,
Under the golden sun.

I climb the mountains, I sail the seas,
I savour each moment, I do as I please,
For life is too short to play it safe,
I live with passion; I live with faith.

I make new friends, I cherish the old,
I share my stories, both brave and bold,
I dance through life with a youthful heart,
Aging disgracefully, a work of art.

So let my back creak, let my hair turn grey,
I'll live each moment, come what may,
For in this journey, wild and free,
Aging disgracefully is the way to be.

In the velvet cloak of night,
A cosmic dance begins,
Seven celestial bodies align,
A rare and wondrous sight.

Mercury, swift and bright,
First to greet the twilight,
Dancing close to the sun's embrace,
A fleeting, golden light.

Venus, the evening star,
Glistens with a lover's glow,
Her beauty unmatched, afar,
In the twilight's gentle flow.

Mars, the warrior bold,
Burns with a crimson fire,
A tale of battles old,
And dreams that never tire.

Jupiter, the giant king,
With moons in loyal throng,
His presence, a majestic ring,
A symphony, a song.

Saturn, with his rings of ice,
A crown of ancient lore,
In the sky, a paradise,
A wonder to explore.

Uranus, the tilted one,
A mystery in the night,
His azure hue, a distant sun,
A beacon, cold and bright.

Neptune, the farthest blue,
In the depths of space he roams,
A world of secrets, few,
In the vast, eternal homes.

Together, they align,
A parade of cosmic grace,
A moment so divine,
In the boundless, starry space.

The heavens sing their song,
A melody of light,
A harmony so strong,
In the quiet of the night.

Gaze upon this sight,
A gift from realms above,
A fleeting, rare delight,
A testament of love.

For in this grand display,

The universe reveals,
Its wonders, night and day,
And the magic it conceals.

From the coffee house window, she stands so near,
A lady busking, her melodies clear.
On the market corner, her voice does rise,
A beacon of song, under cloudy skies.

Shoppers bustle, with bags in hand,
Yet pause for a moment, to join her band.
A minute or two, they stand and sway,
Enchanted by the music, in their busy day.

With nimble fingers, she strums her guitar,
Notes dancing like wishes on a falling star.
Her voice, a sweet lullaby, soft and free,
Echoes through the market, like a gentle sea.

Coins clink softly, in her open case,
A token of thanks, for the smile on each face.
In the rhythm of life, her tunes take flight,
A brief interlude, in the shoppers' plight.

Children tug on sleeves, eyes wide with glee,
As parents smile, lost in the melody.
Old friends reunite, share stories anew,
With her songs as the backdrop, their bonds grew.

From the coffee house window, I watch and see,
A scene so vibrant, a living tapestry.
The lady busking, with her heartfelt tune,
Brings warmth and light, like a sunny June.

In every note, a tale is told,
Of love, of loss, of days of old.
Her music weaves through the market square,
A thread of magic, in the midday air.

And as the sun dips, shadows grow long,
Her voice still carries, the heart of her song.
A fleeting moment, a melody shared,
As the market slows and daylight fades.

Beneath the frost, life stirs,
Whispers of warmth in the breeze,
A symphony of colours,
Unfolding in the dawn.
Buds break through the earth,
Reaching for the sun,
Petals unfurl, soft and new,
A canvas painted fresh.

Birdsong fills the air,
Melodies of hope and renewal,
Each note a promise,
Of days growing longer, brighter.
The world shakes off its slumber,
Stretching, yawning, awakening,
To the gentle touch of spring,
A season reborn.

No light, no sound,
A void where echoes drown.
In the stillness, whispers fade,
Dreams in shadows, softly laid.

Time stands still, a breathless pause,
In the dark, no cause, no laws.
Stars unseen, yet hearts still beat,
In the silence, souls do meet.

A world within, where thoughts collide,
In the quiet, truths reside.
No light, no sound, yet life profound,
In the hush, we are unbound.

On the cusp of spring, in morning light,
Emerges a bloom, pure and white.
A daisy bold, midst blades of green,
Tales of springtime dreams unseen.

Daisy, darling, harbinger bright,
Whispers of warmth in the fading night.
In a world yet cold, your petals gleam,
A promise of the springtime dream.

Through winter's grasp, you find your way,
With golden heart that bids the day.
Courageous flower, tender and sweet,
In the dawning spring, our eyes do meet.

Though frost may linger, though skies be grey,
Your beauty heralds a brighter day.
In gardens wild or manicured lawn,
With you, dear daisy, spring is born.

So sing, dear daisy, your silent song,
As nature's chorus joins along.
In your embrace, we find our cheer,
For spring is nigh, and warmth is near.

In the wake of new dawn, in a world so grand,
Where silicon and circuits danced hand in hand,
Rose a beacon of brilliance, in tech's vivid scheme,
The ZX Spectrum, a digital dream.

Born from the mind of Sinclair's bright flair,
A machine to empower, to educate, to dare,
With rainbow stripes and keys of rubber,
It sparked a revolution, igniting the cyber.

In living rooms and bedrooms, its presence was felt,
As young minds discovered the power it dealt,
Loading with tapes, with a screech and a whirl,
They entered new realms, as the code would unfurl.

From simple lines of BASIC, they crafted their art,
Creating worlds of wonder, from the depths of their heart,
Jet Set *****’s antics, and Manic Miner’s plight,
The Spectrum brought magic, day and night.

With colours and sounds, it lit up the screen,
A marvel of pixels, where gamers convene,
From Dizzy’s adventures to text-based quests,
The ZX Spectrum was truly the best.

In the hands of hobbyists, it sparked a new age,
Of homegrown creations, their talents engaged,
From coders to players, a community strong,
Their passion for pixels, a resonant song.

Through trials of loading, with patience and care,
They battled the glitches, with will to spare,
The Spectrum stood resilient, a titan of play,
A legend in computing, to this very day.

Though decades have passed, and tech has evolved,
The spirit of the Spectrum remains unresolved,
A testament to vision, to dreams and to skill,
The ZX Spectrum, remembered still.

In the nascent days of silicon dreams,
A revolution brewed, more than it seemed,
In the heart of Britain, where innovation sparked,
The dawn of home computing, a journey embarked.

Amidst the clatter of typewriters, and ink's gentle flow,
A vision took shape, for the future to know,
A microcomputer, for every home and school,
To empower the curious, a powerful tool.

The BBC Micro, affectionately the B,
A marvel of tech, for all to see,
With its sturdy build and keyboard bright,
A beacon of knowledge, a guiding light.

From classrooms to living rooms, its presence spread,
Young minds were awakened, by what it said,
Programming in BASIC, their imaginations soared,
With each line of code, new worlds explored.

Acorn's creation, a jewel so fine,
With teletext and graphics, ahead of its time,
From Elite’s vast galaxies, to educational quests,
The BBC B shone among the best.

In the spirit of '80s, where dreams took flight,
The BBC B stood, a technological knight,
A bridge to the future, where data could roam,
A gateway to knowledge, from the comfort of home.

It was more than a machine, it was a spark,
Igniting passions, in the light and the dark,
A symbol of progress, a herald of change,
In the annals of history, its name will remain.

So here’s to the BBC Micro, a legend in kind,
A testament to the power of the human mind,
From the '70s dawn, to the stars above,
The BBC B, with all our love.

In a world where science would meet,
A woman with bionics so neat,
Jaime Sommers, so strong,
Fought for right, against wrong,
With a heart that never missed a beat.


Her limbs were of steel, oh so fine,
Her strength and her senses, divine,
She'd battle and fight,
With all of her might,
A hero in every design.


With Oscar and Rudy, her mates,
She'd tackle the most dangerous fates,
In justice's quest,
She stood out the best,
In the hearts of fans, she relates.

In the vast expanse of space, where stars gleam bright,
A tale unfolds of bravery, in the dead of night,
Blake and his seven, a rebel force so bold,
Against the Federation's grip, their story told.

Roj Blake, a leader with courage and might,
Fought for freedom, against the dark's fright,
With Avon, Vila, Cally, and Jenna by his side,
Their loyalty and struggles, through space they’d ride.

On the Liberator, their star ship grand,
They battled oppression, a ragtag band,
With Orac’s wisdom, and Zen’s guiding light,
They journeyed through dangers, from planet to flight.

Avon, the cynic, with a mind so keen,
Vila, the thief, with wit often seen,
Cally, the telepath, with heart and grace,
Jenna, the pilot, navigating space.

Through victories and losses, their spirits remained,
A quest for justice, though lives they strained,
Blake's 7, a legend that time won't erase,
A story of defiance, in the infinite space.

Echoes of their fight, in hearts will stay,
Blake's 7, heroes of a bygone day,
In the chronicles of sci-fi, their legacy set,
A saga remembered, we won’t forget.

Y'all still with me? Let's take a ride,
To the heart of Nashville, where dreams collide.
In *****-tonk bars, where the music’s tight,
Country tunes echo through the night.

From neon lights on Broadway's street,
To the soulful strum of a guitar’s beat,
Nashville's alive with the heart of song,
Where every voice feels like it belongs.

Storytellers paint their tales so true,
In lyrics of heartache, love, and the blues.
Cowboy boots dance on a sawdust floor,
In a place where legends are born and more.

There's a magic here, in the Southern air,
Melodies weaving dreams without a care.
So y'all still with me? Let's raise a toast,
To Nashville’s music, the sound we love most.

I hate pills and potions, they cloud my view,
In my quest for peace, they sometimes ensue.
The labels and bottles, a daily reminder,
Of battles within, growing even kinder.

I despise the reliance, the chemical bind,
Searching for solace that’s gentle and kind.
In nature and whispers, I seek my reprieve,
Finding my balance in the breaths that I breathe.

The pills and potions, they may have a place,
But I yearn for more than their cold, sterile embrace.
In mindfulness, movement, and moments of grace,
I find a serenity that no pill can replace.

I hate pills and potions, but still, I endure,
Seeking my healing in ways that feel pure.
For in this journey, both long and profound,
I uncover the peace that’s internally found.

"Did you have the rest of the chicken before you went to bed?"
I pondered this aloud, my stomach tightly wed.
“No,” you whispered, “I left it for you,
I knew you'd be hungry when the clock struck two.”

I thanked you then, with a sleepy head,
Grateful for your thoughtfulness as I stumbled to bed.
“Did you check on the stars before you went to sleep?”
You asked, as you heard me quietly creep.

“No,” I admitted, “I watched them instead,
In my dreams they twinkled, right above my head.”
“Well,” you said, your voice soft and warm,
“They shone extra bright, after the storm.”

I smiled in the dark, imagining the sky,
And your words brought comfort, as the night drifted by.
“Did you remember to wish upon one?” you asked with care,
I nodded, sleepily, “Yes, I wished you were there.”

“Goodnight,” you murmured, “Sweet dreams ahead,
Let the stars and the chicken fill your head.”
With that, the night embraced our quiet talk,
And I dreamt of a starlit midnight walk.

In the mirror’s gentle gaze,
Reflection true, a heart ablaze,
With whispers soft, I hear the call,
Of self-love’s rise, through shadows fall.

No need to seek approval’s light,
For in my soul, I shine so bright,
With every mark and every tear,
I stand strong, without a fear.

Establish routines, with care in mind,
Positive words, in mornings find,
Set healthy boundaries, guard your space,
Mindfulness, with calm embrace.

Embrace the strength within my core,
A love for self, I can’t ignore,
In every step, I find my way,
Through each new dawn, I greet the day.

Gratitude journals, heart’s delight,
Small indulgences, soul takes flight,
Forgiveness flows, for past mistakes,
In loved ones’ warmth, heart awakes.

With open arms, I welcome me,
A journey of discovery,
In self-love’s warmth, I’ll always stand,
My heart’s own keeper, hand in hand.

Learning grows, and hobbies bloom,
Reflection’s peace, within my room,
Through every act, and thought sincere,
Self-love’s embrace, forever near.

Resilience forged in trials faced,
Empowerment in every trace,
With courage bold, I rise above,
A testament to self-love’s love.

Through storms and sunshine, I will stand,
Empowered heart and steady hand,
In resilience, I find my way,
Empowered, loved, come what may

I walk my own path in colours so bright,
Through shadows and sunshine, both day and night.
With hues of courage, and shades of grace,
I paint my journey, in my own pace.

No map to follow, no line to trace,
Just vibrant dreams, in endless space.
With every step, the canvas grows,
A masterpiece in the making, flows.

Blues of the ocean, greens of the earth,
Reds of passion, and golds of worth.
In every hue, a story told,
Of adventures new, and hearts so bold.

For life is art, in a spectrum wide,
A kaleidoscope of joy and stride.
I walk my own path, in colours so bright,
A radiant journey, a beacon of light.

Have you got places to be?
Always, mate, always,
The world spins fast, no time to see,
Life's a whirlwind, in so many ways.

Do you ever stop to breathe?
Rarely, mate, rarely,
Chasing dreams, no time to grieve,
Moments pass by, barely.

Is there a place you call home?
Everywhere, mate, everywhere,
In the heart, where I roam,
In the memories we share.

Do you find peace in the rush?
Sometimes, mate, sometimes,
In the quiet moments, hush,
In the rhythm of life's rhymes.

Will you ever slow down?
Maybe, mate, maybe,
When the stars wear a crown,
And the journey feels steady.

Steel eyes,
Heart of fire.
Wars waged,
Dreams higher.
Land claimed,
Might in hand.
Echoed cries,
Sweeping land.
Crowned fate,
Legends spun.
Battlefields,
Victory won.
Hope shattered,
Glory's cost.
Conquered ground,
Never lost.

In the town of Grumblegroan,
Lived a curmudgeon all alone,
With a scowl so deeply sown,
His smile was rarely shown.

He'd mutter, "Humbug!" to the breeze,
And chase off kids from climbing trees,
But deep inside, with great unease,
He loved the antics of the bees.

One day a child with sunny cheer,
Skipped right up and stood so near,
She asked, "Why do you never hear,
The laughter ringing in your ear?"

The curmudgeon paused, then gave a sigh,
For in her eyes he caught the sky,
And with a twinkle by and by,
He let a chuckle slip and fly.

As days went by, the child returned,
With tales of wonder she had learned,
The curmudgeon listened, slowly yearned,
For joy his heart had long adjourned.

They'd sit and chat by the garden gate,
She'd talk of dreams and stars of fate,
He'd grumble, "It's getting late,"
But stayed to hear her tales so great.

One fine day, she brought a kite,
"Let's fly it high, up to the light!"
He grumbled, "Not in my sight!"
Yet joined her in the laughter bright.

Up the kite soared in the sky,
With colours dancing way up high,
The curmudgeon smiled, he couldn’t deny,
The joy reflected in his eye.

From that day forth, in Grumblegroan,
A friendship bloomed, a kindness grown,
For every heart, even stone,
Has a softness of its own.

In the land of Fizzlecrop,
Where the fizzleberries pop,
Lived a tiny wizzle ***,
With a twisty turny top.

He danced upon the lemon breeze,
And wiggled with the wobbly trees,
Humming tunes of buzzing bees,
In the land of fizzle's ease.

In your pocket, snug and tight,
A wallet holds your treasures right.
Cards and cash, IDs too,
A trusty friend, always with you.

L.L.L.Linda, lively and bright,
Leaps through life with pure delight.
Laughing loudly, her spirit soars,
Lighting up rooms, opening doors.

Linda loves to dance and sing,
Her joy is a contagious thing.
With every step, she leaves a trace,
Of happiness and boundless grace.

Linda's heart is warm and kind,
A better friend, you'll never find.
Her laughter, like a melody,
Fills the air with harmony.

So here's to Linda, full of cheer,
A shining star, forever dear.
In every heart, her light will stay,
L.L.L.Linda, in every way.

In the darkest night, you always shine,
A beacon of hope, a light so divine.
Through stormy seas and skies so grey,
Your brilliance guides, showing the way.

With every dawn, your glow renews,
A promise of dreams, of skies so blue.
In every heart, your warmth does stay,
A gentle touch, come what may.

You walked on water, calmed the storm,
In your embrace, we are reborn.
With love and grace, you lead us through,
Jesus, our Saviour, we trust in you.

So keep on shining, bright and true,
For the world is better, because of you.
In every moment, near or far,
You always shine, our guiding star.

The morning sun rises,
casting golden hues on empty shelves.
A quiet sigh escapes,
as the fridge door closes,
echoing the absence.

No milk today,
a simple truth,
yet it ripples through the day.
Coffee, dark and bitter,
cereal, dry and plain,
a reminder of what’s missing.

The cat meows,
eyes wide with expectation,
but the bowl remains empty,
a silent apology.

In the stillness,
memories of mornings past,
when the world felt full,
and the milk flowed freely,
creeping into the present.

No milk today,
but life goes on,
in the small moments,
the quiet resilience,
finding sweetness in the unexpected.

In the quiet of the morning, as the sun begins to rise,
A man sits by the window, with memories in his eyes.
With a wistful sigh, he journeys back through time,
To the days of youth and laughter, in a life once so sublime.

Those were the days when the world seemed so vast,
A canvas of dreams, where moments never passed.
With friends by his side and adventures to chase,
They roamed through fields of wonder, leaving not a trace.

The summers were endless, with skies a brilliant blue,
Long afternoons spent dreaming, and nights of starlit view.
They'd gather 'round the campfire, with tales to share and spin,
Those were the days when magic dwelled within.

The first taste of love, so sweet and so pure,
A heart full of promise, with a bond that would endure.
They danced beneath the moonlight, with whispers soft and low,
Those were the days when love would always grow.

Through the seasons of life, in a tapestry of change,
The man recalls the moments, both familiar and strange.
The laughter and the heartache, the triumphs and the tears,
Those were the days that shaped his fleeting years.

He remembers the scent of rain on the summer breeze,
The feeling of freedom, as they climbed the tallest trees.
With a heart full of courage, they faced the world so bold,
Those were the days when dreams were made of gold.

But time has a way of drifting, like a leaf upon the stream,
The past becomes a memory, a distant, fading dream.
Yet in the quiet moments, when the world is still and bright,
He cherishes the echoes of those days, with all his might.

Now the man sits in reflection, with a smile upon his face,
For though the years have flown, they've left a gentle trace.
In the twilight of his journey, he finds solace in the past,
Knowing those were the days that were meant to last.

Once upon a time there was a tavern,
In the heart of town, where stories were woven.
With laughter, tears, and memories to share,
A barman stood, his smile ever so rare.

Behind the counter, he worked with grace,
A friendly face in that warm, cosy place.
With nimble hands, he poured and mixed,
A master of potions, full of tricks.

He knew each customer by name,
Their joys, their sorrows, their every aim.
With a listening ear and a heart of gold,
He turned the mundane into tales retold.

When evening came and the firelight dimmed,
The barman’s spirit never once thinned.
He shared a laugh, a joke, a knowing wink,
Making friends out of strangers with just one drink.

Through the bustle and the hum of chatter,
He moved with ease, never one to scatter.
A confidant, a guide, a friend so dear,
In the heart of the tavern, always near.

As nights grew late and the moonlight glowed,
The barman’s tales and warmth bestowed,
A sense of comfort, a place to unwind,
In that humble tavern, a treasure to find.

I am sitting in a café,
On a rainy Saturday,
Watching people pass the window,
As they hurry on their way.

The barista's making coffee,
Steam is rising in the air,
I can hear the gentle chatter,
Of the patrons everywhere.

A couple's sharing secrets,
In a corner by the door,
While a student reads her textbook,
Sprawled across the table's floor.

The rain keeps softly falling,
On the pavement, on the street,
And the rhythm of the raindrops,
Matches footsteps of the feet.

I sip my cup of coffee,
Feeling warm and feeling fine,
In this little cozy café,
Where the world is left behind.

A man is reading headlines,
From a paper in his hand,
He frowns and sips his latte,
As he tries to understand.

A child is drawing pictures,
With crayons on a pad,
Her mother smiles beside her,
At the artwork she has had.

The door chime rings, a newcomer,
Shakes the raindrops from his coat,
He orders something warming,
And he clears his scratchy throat.

The café hums with life now,
As the morning turns to noon,
And the rain outside keeps falling,
To a gentle, soothing tune.

"I know where I am going, and you can't follow me,"
She declared with a voice, resolute and free.
In the depths of her eyes, a storm had started,
While they stood at a crossroad, soon to be parted.

"Why do you think you can walk this path alone?
In your silence, my heart has already known,"
His voice trembled, his words etched in sorrow,
Yet in her resolve, she could not borrow.

"For this journey, my soul must fly unchained,
Where dreams and desires once faintly waned.
I’ve found a place where my spirit can soar,
Where life’s meaning blooms, as never before.”

"But why? Why must you leave me behind?
In our stories, our lives were intertwined.
The world we built with laughter and strife,
Am I not a part of your purpose and life?"

“It’s not you; it's the destiny I heed,
A call that whispers my heart’s deepest need.
To fields beyond, where stars gleam brighter,
Where burdens shed make souls so much lighter.”

Tears glistened on cheeks, hearts heavy with sorrow,
Two paths now split; no shared tomorrow.
“I love you,” she said with a pained plea,
“I know where I am going, and you can't follow me.”

With that, they turned, futures newly aligned,
Separate ways, with memories in mind.
A love not lost, but transformed in time,
A bittersweet end, in life’s tender rhyme.

In a kitchen quite untidy, with flour on the floor,
Lived a perplexed pancake, unsure what life had in store.
With spatulas and whisks, and a mix of eggs and flour,
The pancake pondered purpose, through syrup’s *******.

Its comrades were exaggerations of breakfast’s finest fare,
A waffle who could moonwalk, and toast with jelly hair.
They tumbled out the toaster, with a grace that’s simply grand,
While pancake flopped and floundered, on the griddle it would land.

Surprise and twists they found there, in the breakfast mess so sweet,
A sausage served as CEO, in an apron far too neat.
Relatable mishaps, oh how they did unfold,
The bacon strips, they tangled, in a battle bold.

“Why must I be this shape?” the pancake sighed one day,
“I yearn for something more, perhaps a grand soufflé.”
With irony and sarcasm, the kitchenware replied,
“Embrace your round existence, it’s in circles you abide!”

A hyperbolic moment, as syrup fountains flowed,
The pancake spun around and in syrupy joy, it glowed.
Absurdity and nonsense, a sight to surely see,
For in that kitchen’s chaos, the pancake found its glee.

So here’s to all the breakfasts, to the pancakes in a stack,
To quirky, comical moments, with humour at the max.
For in this life of laughter, there’s magic to uncover,
In every flip and flop, in each sweet syrupy shudder.

A shadow drapes across my soul,
A weight that drags, yet makes me whole.
It's not a storm, but endless rain,
A quiet ache, a lingering pain.

I wear the mask, a smile to show,
But deep inside, the currents flow.
A quiet cry that none can hear,
A silent scream, a hidden fear.

Some days are bright, the world so wide,
But others hide where I can't hide.
I don’t choose this, it’s not my fault,
Yet here I stand, my heart in vault.

The mind is a maze, dark and tight,
Where peace is fleeting, out of sight.
But even in the darkest night,
I fight to find the smallest light.

It’s part of me, this heavy hue,
A battle that I must get through.
But I know, through every tear,
I’ll rise again, despite my fear.

The curves of a woman, a sight to behold,
***** and bums, a symmetry to unfold.
Like hills and valleys, they rise and they fall,
A topography of beauty, for one and all.

The *****, like ripe fruit, full and so fine,
Invite the eye to linger, and the heart to entwine.
Their gentle sway, a dance so divine,
A movement that's subtle, yet oh so sublime.

And the bums, like rounded moons in the night,
Glow with a soft luminescence, a pure delight.
Their curves and contours, a work of art in themselves,
A masterpiece of nature, that forever wealth.

But let us not forget, these features so fair,
Are but a part of the whole, beyond compare.
For it's the person within, with heart and soul so bright,
That makes these curves shine with beauty and light.

So let us celebrate these wondrous forms divine,
And honour the women who wear them so fine.
For ***** and bums are but mere words we use,
To describe the beauty that our eyes can't refuse.

The ****, a symbol of strength, of power and of might,
A part of the male form, that's both delicate and bright.
It stands *****, a pillar of pride and desire,
A source of pleasure, and a spark that sets the fire.

The *****, like orbs of wisdom, hanging low and serene,
A treasure trove of life, where seeds of love are seen.
They swing with gentle motion, a rhythmic beat so fine,
A reminder of the beauty, that's inherent in design.

Together they form a union, a bond so strong and true,
A harmony of function, that's both beautiful and new.
For in their intricate dance, we find the essence of life,
A celebration of masculinity, in all its strife.

But let us not forget, these parts so bold and free,
Are but a portion of the whole, a fragment of humanity.
For it's the person within, with heart and soul so bright,
That makes these forms shine with beauty, and ignite with delight.

So let us honour the **** and *****, as symbols of our might,
And recognize the beauty, that shines with morning light.
For in their honest portrayal, we find a truth so rare,
A celebration of masculinity, without shame or care.

Apple apple, juicy sweet,
Fruity treat, hard to beat.
Crispy fresh, vibrant hue,
Apple apple, I love you.

In a humble shop, where hearts align,  
For ten long years, our beacon shines.  
A place where kindness finds its way,  
To those in need, day by day.

For three and a half, we've led the way,  
With open arms and words to say.  
Meeting faces, young and old,  
Stories of warmth and hands to hold.

Families with children, eyes so bright,  
Find solace in our gentle light.  
A difference made, a life renewed,  
In every smile, gratitude.

Through every challenge, joy, and tear,  
We've built a haven, year by year.  
From empty shelves to rising need,  
We've faced it all, with heart and creed.

A community, strong and true,  
All thanks to the heart of you.

In the hushed hours before dawn,
When the world holds its breath,
A silent echo lingers,
Reverberating through the stillness.

Whispers of forgotten dreams
Intertwine with the shadows,
Dancing in the corners of memory,
Unseen, but felt deep within.

Time suspends its relentless march,
Pausing to listen,
To the unspoken truths,
In the quiet spaces of existence.

Silent echoes of laughter,
Of sorrow, of love,
Resonate through the corridors of the heart,
Leaving imprints, invisible yet indelible.

In the solitude of night,
When the world is wrapped in silence,
The echo of a sigh,
Of a thought unvoiced, softly resounds.

It is in these moments,
Between the ticking of seconds,
That the soul finds its voice,
In the silent echo of its being.

A reflection of life’s essence,
Captured in the stillness,
An echo that speaks,
Without uttering a sound.

Silent, yet profound,
It spins a web of emotions,
In the spaces where words fall short,
An eternal echo in the void.