In a quiet corner, an old man sat,
A pint of beer, a worn flat cap.
The crossword before him, ink-stained and neat,
A puzzle, a riddle, a mental feat.

His glasses perched on the bridge of his nose,
A furrowed brow, as his mind arose.
With every sip, a memory stirred,
Of days gone by, of stories unheard.

The pub around him buzzed and hummed,
But in his world, all was numbed.
The clinking glasses, the lunchtime cheer,
Muffled sounds, far yet near.

His pen hovered, a moment’s pause,
Lost in thoughts of forgotten cause.
A chuckle escaped, a clue made clear,
In that moment, time disappeared.

The crossword, a canvas of black and white,
A dance of words, a silent flight.
Each answer a piece of his history,
Each blank space, a whispered mystery.

In his solitude, he found delight,
In the simple joys, in the midday light.
A life well-lived, reflected in ink,
In the corner, he'd ponder, he'd think.

As the afternoon aged, the crowd thinned out,
The crossword completed, without a doubt.
The old man smiled, a gentle sigh,
Content and peaceful, he closed an eye.

In that quiet corner, he’d sit once more,
A pint of beer, a mind to explore.
For in the puzzles, he found his peace,
A tapestry of life, a sweet release.

They sat together in the dimly lit room,
Two souls entwined in an invisible gloom.
The air grew thick, as the seconds stretched,
In a silence profound, their nerves were etched.

Eyes would flicker, searching for a place to land,
Fingers fidgeted, twisting a silver band.
A cough, a sigh, a shuffling of feet,
Echoed like thunder, in a silence discreet.

"Lovely weather," one finally said,
As the other nodded, wishing for words instead.
Their cups of tea, now lukewarm and still,
Matched the conversation, awkward and shrill.

Thoughts raced wildly, but words refused to stay,
Like skittish birds, they fluttered away.
A clock ticked loudly, in the corner it chimed,
Filling the void, with seconds unkind.

Minds would wander, then snap back in place,
Searching for cues, in the other's face.
An accidental glance, then quickly withdrawn,
Eyes meeting briefly, then back to the drawn.

Awkward silence, a dance so hard to bear,
Yet in its midst, a strange bond shared.
For sometimes in the quiet, without a word,
Connections are made, though nothing is heard.

In that fragile stillness, where time seemed to freeze,
They found a fleeting comfort, a strange, subtle ease.
Though silence hung heavy, like a cloud above,
In its awkward embrace, they discovered a kind of love.

Does anyone find their jeans have shrunk when they have just come out the wash?
The waistband tightens, seams constrict, the fabric feels awfully posh.
Once a perfect fit, they hugged curves just right,
Now they pinch and squeeze, a denim plight.

We sigh and tug, perform a little dance,
Hoping for a miracle, to give them one more chance.
We blame the dryer, the water too hot,
Or maybe, just maybe, it's the snack we've sought.

But in this tiny battle, there's a hint of truth,
A reminder of changes, in age and youth.
For clothes may shrink, and time may fly,
But we'll wear our jeans with heads held high.

Does anyone find their jeans have shrunk when they have just come out the wash?
It's life's little quirks that give us a good ol' squash.
So we'll laugh it off, and embrace each day,
For in our favourite jeans, we'll find our way.

I woke up for a *** last night and it took me half an hour,
My weary mind began to wander, musing on midnight's power.
The moonlight gently filtered through the curtains, soft and pale,
A sleepy, silent witness to my sluggish, bleary tale.

The clock's unyielding ticking whispered secrets in my ear,
As shadows danced upon the walls, with movements faint but clear.
In the quiet of the night, where dreams and reality blur,
I pondered life's great mysteries, while sleep became a whir.

The bathroom tiles were icy, a chilly underfoot embrace,
Yet, in that moment, oddly, I found a peaceful place.
For sometimes in the stillness, when the world is hushed and calm,
We find a fleeting solace, a rare, elusive balm.

Half an hour felt like ages, in the dead of night so deep,
Yet, with my mind now settled, I found the gift of sleep.
Back to bed I drifted, to dreams both strange and bright,
Grateful for that quiet pause in the stillness of the night.

The mirror stands, a silent sage,
Reflecting more than age and stage.
It looks beyond the skin and bone,
Into the realms where secrets are shown.

Beyond the surface, polished bright,
It glimpses shadows, soft and slight.
The joys and sorrows intertwined,
The echoes of a troubled mind.

In the depths of pupils' gleam,
It sees the dreams that dare to dream.
The hopes that flutter, frail yet bold,
The stories yet to be told.

It sees the tears that never fell,
The silent cries, the hidden hell.
The scars that mar the inner heart,
The battles fought in the dark.

Laughter lines that speak of grace,
Of moments cherished, time embraced.
The passions that ignite the soul,
The fragments that make us whole.

It senses fears that grip and bind,
The doubts that linger in the mind.
The love that flows, a gentle stream,
The faith that fuels the wildest dream.

In the mirror's deep, unwavering gaze,
It reads the past, the future's maze.
A testament to all we've been,
The silent witness, the unseen.

For in the depths where emotions dwell,
The mirror sees and knows us well.
Beyond the image, clear and true,
It reflects the essence of me and you.

In the vast expanse of life,
Where dreams and hopes take flight.
Freedom’s treasure held so dear,
Dispels my darkest fear.

No chains to bind or walls confine,
My spirit soars, I cross the line.
With every breath, I feel the breeze,
A whisper of hope and of ease.

Though life may twist and storms may roar,
Freedom’s my anchor, my very core.
It's not the wealth or power I seek,
But the liberty to be unique.

In moments of doubt, in times of strife,
Freedom’s the essence of my life.
A guiding star, a light so bright,
Reminds us who we are, takes flight.

In the end when all is said,
Freedom’s all I ever had.
With this freedom, I am rich,
In ways that gold could never stitch.

Wealth is measured not in coin,
But in the sky where dreams do join.
Choices made and paths explored,
Peace within, soul restored.

My richness lies in freedom’s grace,
In life I lead, my own pace.
To which I thank my God above,
For freedom’s gift, blessed with love.

In His grace, I find my way,
To live in freedom day by day.

Night descends with shadows deep,
In the silence, fears start to creep.
Grim visions fill the midnight air,
Haunting whispers everywhere.
Terrors rise from the mind's dark sea,
Monsters born of anxiety.
As the hours slowly pass,
Restless dreams in a murky glass.
Eventually, dawn will break.

In the stillness of the night, I sit alone,
With my iPad's glow, a world of my own.
The house is quiet, the world at rest,
But here I am, a nocturnal guest.

The screen lights up with a gentle gleam,
As I navigate through a digital dream.
Emails, notes, and tasks to complete,
In this silent hour, I find my beat.

The tap of fingers, a rhythmic sound,
In the calm of night, productivity is found.
Ideas flow in the midnight air,
With no distractions, I find my flair.

The stars outside, a distant light,
While I work away in the depth of night.
The iPad's glow, my only guide,
In this tranquil time, I take pride.

For in these hours, I find my peace,
A moment of quiet, a sweet release.
The world asleep, but I am awake,
With my iPad's glow, new poems I create.

It's 2am again and I am awake,
In the quiet night, my thoughts partake.
The world is still, but my mind won't rest,
In this sleepless hour, I'm a restless guest.

The clock ticks on, a steady beat,
As I lie here, tangled in the sheets.
Memories and worries intertwine,
In the silence, they become mine.

I count the stars outside my window pane,
Seeking solace, but it's all in vain.
The moonlight casts a gentle glow,
On a weary heart that can't let go.

Yet in this solitude, I find a spark,
A moment of peace within the dark.
For though sleep eludes me, I still dream,
In the quiet hours, I find my theme.

So, it's 2am again, and I am awake,
But in this stillness, new paths I take.
For even in the night, there's light to see,
A world of wonder, just for me.

In the spaces where words once dwelled,
A silence deep and unquelled,
Echoes of what used to be,
A lacuna in our memory.

Thoughts of life and death occur,
We love, we live, we breathe, we stir,
In moments lost and dreams unfurled,
A lacuna in our world.

Our fleeting dreams are insubstantial,
Ephemeral as mist, and yet essential,
In every gap, a story waits,
A lacuna that our heart translates.

Ephemeral as the love we lost,
In shadows deep, we count the cost,
For in each void, a lesson found,
A lacuna where our souls are bound.

With God we find our meaning clear,
In faith and love, we conquer fear,
In every void, His light does gleam,
A lacuna filled with hope and dream.

Amazed by the azure skies,
Birds soar and spread their wings,
Clouds form captivating shapes,
Dancing in the daylight brings.
Every leaf whispers softly,
Flowers bloom in vibrant hues,
Golden rays of sunshine glow,
Harmonizing nature's views.
In the stillness of the night,
Jewels of stars adorn the sky,
Kindred spirits feel the light,
Loving whispers, hearts sigh.
Mountains stand majestic, tall,
Nature’s beauty, pure and grand,
Oceans vast and deep enthral,
Peaceful moments where we stand.
Quiet streams flow gently by,
Ripples form in rhythmic dance,
Songs of birds that signify,
Tender trysts of love's advance.
Underneath the silver moon,
Valleys rest in quiet repose,
Whispers of the night’s sweet tune,
Xylophones in dreams compose.
Yearning hearts find rest at last,
Zephyrs blow, the night has passed.

In the world of nouns and verbs, where sentences dance,
Words weave a story, a language of romance.
Adjectives sing softly, describing the scene,
While adverbs glide gracefully, adding a sheen.

Conjunctions hold hands, bridging thoughts like a song,
Prepositions position, showing where they belong.
Pronouns step in, replacing names with some flair,
Determiners guide, ensuring clarity's there.

Interjections burst forth with emotion's delight,
Punctuation marks punctuate, keeping rhythm tight.
And in this land of syntax, where grammar is king,
Each word finds its place, and together they sing.

Silent tears,
Empty bed,
Memories linger,
Words unsaid.

Heartache swells,
Lonely nights,
Echoes whisper,
Fading lights.

Love once shared,
Now a void,
Waves of grief,
Hope destroyed.

Time moves on,
Pain remains,
In the silence,
Love's refrain.

In the heart of ancient woodlands,
Where oaks and birches stand tall,
The land breathes with silent whispers,
A chorus of the wild, free and small.

The red fox, with eyes aglow,
Slips through the twilight's gentle haze.
In hedgerows deep, it finds its path,
A solitary wanderer in the maze.

High above, the red kite soars,
Its wings a brushstroke in the sky.
With keen eyes fixed on fields below,
It dances with the wind, so high.

Hares leap across the open moor,
Their shadows stretching in the dawn.
In fields of gold and verdant green,
Their graceful bounds, a fleeting yawn.

The badger, with its monochrome coat,
Emerges from its hidden lair.
By moonlight’s silver, it forages,
A creature of the night’s cool air.

Beneath the water’s tranquil flow,
The otter plays, with joyful glee.
Its sleek form weaves through river reeds,
A symbol of life’s carefree decree.

In coastal cliffs, the puffins nest,
With beaks so bright, they call the sea.
Their cries a melody of cliffs,
A testament to wild decree.

The deer move softly through the mist,
Their antlers rise, like ancient crowns.
In silent grace, they rule the glen,
The guardians of nature’s bounds.

From mountain peak to valley floor,
The UK's wild, a tapestry.
In every nook, in every crag,
A living hymn to the free.

Yet shadows loom, a growing strain,
Human touch, a silent bane.
Urban sprawl and poisoned air,
The wild struggles, unaware.

Forests felled and rivers tamed,
Habitats lost; species maimed.
In fields where hares once freely run,
Silent now, beneath the sun.

Plastic seas and poisoned streams,
Mar the otter’s playful dreams.
Puffins' cries grow faint and rare,
Their future hangs, a fragile air.

In the balance, the wild fights,
Against the pressures, day and night.
In unity, we must defend,
Our natural world, its rightful end.

For in this land, so rich, so vast,
Where nature’s hand has freely cast,
A masterpiece of life and breath,
A tale of wild, from birth to death.

Oh humble sock, I sing to thee,
Soft guardian of my feet so free.
With threads of cotton, wool, or silk,
You cradle toes in warm embrace, like quilt.

From dawn to dusk, you serve with grace,
In every step, in every place.
A buffer ‘gainst the world’s hard ground,
In you, my comfort has been found.

In winter’s chill and summer’s heat,
You brave the elements, no small feat.
Through rain and snow, through sun’s bright glare,
With steadfast loyalty, you’re always there.

You may be plain, you may be bright,
In colours bold or shy and light.
But in your simplicity, I find
A solace true, a peace of mind.

So here’s to you, my knitted friend,
Whose quiet care will never end.
Oh humble sock, I sing to thee,
Your simple warmth, my soul sets free.

Oh sock, you are so socky,
Your fabric is so blocky.
You cover my toes,
And sometimes my woes.

You come in pairs,
But sometimes you tear.
Oh sock, you are so socky,
Your fabric is so blocky.

I’m impatient to see the dawn’s first light,
Glimmering softly, banishing the night.
I yearn for the moment when shadows flee,
For the world’s hidden beauty to reveal to me.

I’m impatient to see the bloom of spring,
Flowers unfolding, colours taking wing.
A carpet of life in vibrant array,
Each petal and leaf dancing through the day.

I’m impatient to see the stars at dusk,
Their celestial patterns, ancient and hushed.
Guiding us with their silent, twinkling gleam,
A whisper of infinity, a dream within a dream.

I’m impatient to see the truth unfold,
Stories of lives, both new and old.
The tapestry of fate, woven with care,
Threads of joy, of sorrow, and moments shared.

I’m impatient to see what lies ahead,
The paths yet untrodden, the words unsaid.
With a heart full of hope and a spirit free,
I’m impatient to see the world’s mystery.

The room is quiet, thoughts take flight,  
In the stillness of this gentle night.  
Pen to paper, words flow free,  
Creating worlds for all to see.

No distractions, just the calm,  
Where ideas bloom like a soothing balm.  
Characters and plots come into play,  
In the magic of this writing day.

Lines and verses, stories spun,  
A writer's joy, second to none.  
In this space, with time to dwell,  
Each word a story, each thought a spell.

So here I sit, content and bright,  
In the pure delight of writing’s light.  
For inspiration comes in its own way,  
Making this a truly good writing day.

The Brits, with their 'colour' and 'favour',  
Hold their spellings in high savour.  
But across the pond, Americans say,  
Why use a 'u' when it can be cast away?

'Organize' they cry, and 'realize' too,  
With 'zeds' replaced by 'zees' to make it all new.  
‘Catalogue’ trimmed to ‘catalog,’ for ease and for haste,  
While ‘theatre’ turns to ‘theater’ with no time to waste.

So here's to the quirks of the English tongue,  
Two ways to write, both right and wrong.  
Lazy or not, it’s diversity’s spice,  
Making our language a tad more precise.

I dropped a plate and it didn't break,
A silent triumph, a fleeting shake.
It danced mid-air, defied its fate,
And settled gently, as if to wait.

In that moment, fragile yet strong,
A whispered lesson, a gentle song.
Life's little stumbles, we might fear,
But not all falls end in a tear.

Sometimes, against the odds we face,
We find resilience, we find grace.
In shattered moments, hope can glow,
A plate unbroken, seeds of courage sow.

Take my life and let it be,
A vessel pure, Lord, use me.
Each moment, in Your grace, I'll stand,
Guided gently by Your hand.

Take my hands and let them move,
At the impulse of Your love.
In service, humble and sincere,
Spread Your light both far and near.

Take my voice and let me sing,
Praises to my Heavenly King.
Every word and every note,
A testament of faith, devote.

Take my mind and let it think,
On Your wisdom, let me drink.
In Your truth, my thoughts align,
To seek Your will, and make it mine.

Take my heart, it is Your own,
Make it pure, Your loving throne.
From doubts and fears, let it be free,
In Your presence, peacefully.

Take my soul and let it soar,
In Your spirit, evermore.
Through joy and sorrow, day and night,
I'll walk by faith, and not by sight.

Take my life and let it be,
Consecrated, Lord, to Thee.
In Your service, let me grow,
And Your boundless love to show.

In the realm of skies and fleece,
The weather dances wild and free.
The sun shines bright, the rain does pour,
Changing moods forevermore.

Yet there stands the humble wether,
In pasture fields, through all weather.
Calm and steady, in the breeze,
Amidst the storm, amidst the peace.

When lightning strikes and thunder roars,
The weather shows its fearsome force.
But still, the wether stands its ground,
With silent strength, without a sound.

The weather shifts with every day,
A symphony in nature's play.
The wether, though, remains the same,
A steadfast soul, without acclaim.

Both weather and wether teach us well,
Of life's great ebb and flow to tell.
In ever-changing skies and land,
Find balance, grace, and understand.

For in the world of earth and sky,
We learn to live, we learn to try.
Like weather's whim and wether's grace,
We face our storms, we find our place.

Storm clouds gather fast,
Winds howl, bending ancient trees,
Strength in nature's grasp.

Storm hits unannounced,
Unsteady hands brace the gale,
Chaos in the night.

Whispers in the sky,
Dreams painted in soft white hues,
Nature's fleeting art.

Cleaning up,
100% complete,
Don't turn off...
In this moment, a soul's renewal starts to flow.

Past sins, forgiven, cast away,
"For if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9)
The old life washed, made clean,
The grace of God illuminates the way,
"And he said to her, 'Your sins are forgiven.'" (Luke 7:48)
And mercy's light begins to gleam.

Eyes lifted upward, a future in faith,
"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13)
No longer burdened by guilt,
The past is redeemed, a testament,
A life upon God's promise built.

With a prayer, they step forward,
Guided by His steadfast love,
"For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11)
For every end marks His beginning,
In His hope, the heart soars above.

Cleaning up,
100% complete,
Don't turn off...
A rebirth in Christ, where broken dreams find peace.
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." (2 Corinthians 5:17)

At 7:59, before 8 o'clock,
The world begins to gently unlock.
The sunrise creeps, a bit earlier each day,
Casting gold hues in a subtle display.

The nights grow shorter, the mornings bright,
With each new dawn, more warming light.
The sun climbs higher, a welcome sight,
Chasing away the lingering night.

Birds begin their morning song,
Announcing that the day's not long.
With whispers of a new day's start,
In nature's rhythm, we take part.

So greet the dawn with open eyes,
A gift of light from morning skies.
As days stretch longer, and dark gives way,
To the earlier promise of each day.

In the world of texting, swift and bright,
Where autocorrect wields its might,
I tried to say a simple "Yes,"
But my phone had plans, oh what a mess.

"Yo!" it typed with confidence bold,
As if my words were dipped in gold.
"Yo!" it said, to be down with the kids,
While I just stared, closing my eyelids.

My boss asked if I'd seen the file,
I meant to say "Yes," with a smile.
But autocorrect had other schemes,
And "Yo!" it sent, shattering my dreams.

"Yo, I've got it," seemed too cool,
My boss now thought I was a fool.
In meetings hence, they giggled low,
At every "Yo!" my texts would show.

My daughter inquired, "Will you come for tea?"
"Yes," I tried, "Of course, it's me!"
But "Yo," sent with a swipe,
Left her thinking I’d joined a new type.

Autocorrect, oh mischievous sprite,
Turning my "Yes" to "Yo!" each night.
Down with the kids, it had me bound,
While I just sighed, round after round.

So now I double-check each text,
Ensuring my “Yes” is truly fixed.
But once in a while, it slips, and so,
I’ve learned to live with a little “Yo.”

In twilight's glow, we traipse the heathered hills,
Wi' hearts aglow an' spirits wild an' free.
The haggis hides, an' silence softly fills,
The Highland air, as far as eyes can see.

Wi' cautious steps, we seek its secret lair,
Among the rocks an' bracken where it roams.
The whispers o' the wind, the cool night air,
Guide oor pursuit tae ancient Scottish homes.

The moon, oor guide, bestows its silver light,
On rugged paths where nature's wonders blend.
In tales o' yore, the haggis takes its flight,
A creature rare, tae chase, but no' offend.

Fer in this hunt, 'tis no' the prize we seek,
But memories made, an' friendships unique.

They ask me where it comes from,
It comes from all around,
The other day it hit me,
As I was walking into town.

It's in the bustling city,
The quiet countryside,
The murmur of a gentle stream,
The ocean's mighty tide.

It's in the laughter of a child,
The tears of a goodbye,
From the dawning of a new day,
And the twinkling stars up high.

It's in the pages of a book,
In the rhythm of a song,
From the beauty of a moment,
To the memories of lifelong.

They ask me where it comes from,
It's everywhere, I say,
In every breath, in every beat,
In the journeys of each day.

Have I forgotten how lovely you were,
In the haze of anger, beneath the blur?
Your beauty once shone, a guiding star,
Now lost in shadows, distant and far.

Rage clouded my vision, distorted the view,
The warmth of your smile, the kindness you drew.
In the heat of the moment, I failed to see,
The grace and charm that once captivated me.

Have I forgotten the light in your eyes,
The laughter that echoed, the joy in our skies?
Anger consumed, it tore me apart,
But deep down, I knew, you still held my heart.

The storm has passed, the fury has waned,
And I remember the love we sustained.
In quiet moments, your memory's clear,
The beauty you were, forever held dear.

Here where words like whispers flow,
Poetry and lyrics dance and glow.
Two sides of the coin, they share their part,
Melding thoughts, creating art.

Poetry, with a silent breath,
Holds timeless tales within its depth.
A world of rhythm, unvoiced song,
Each line a memory, carried along.

Lyrics, on the other hand, do sing,
Their melodies through air do ring.
Infusing music with heartfelt tale,
In harmonies that rise and sail.

Yet deep within, they bear the same,
Emotions stirred, they stake their claim.
One whispers soft, one sings aloud,
Both lifting hearts above the crowd.

So here they stand, these kindred souls,
In pursuit of art, in different roles.
Poetry, lyrics - side by side,
In them, the human heart does confide.

Unbreaking the cycles that bind
Each day unfolds anew
No longer tethered by rewind
We dream, we rise, we pursue

The loop unspools, unravels clean
Untrapped in history’s snare
The path ahead, unseen, serene
To futures fresh and rare

Boundless days not chained to past
Each dawn a chance to start
No echoes of the shadows cast
Just hope within the heart

Unwinding the knot, unweaving the ties
The story freshly penned
In boundless skies, our spirit flies
To where the horizons extend

Unbreaking the cycles that bind
Each day unfolds anew
No longer tethered by rewind
We dream, we rise, we pursue

The loop unspools, unravels clean
Untrapped in history’s snare
The path ahead, unseen, serene
To futures fresh and rare

Boundless days not chained to past
Each dawn a chance to start
No echoes of the shadows cast
Just hope within the heart

Unwinding the knot, unweaving the ties
The story freshly penned
In boundless skies, our spirit flies
To where the horizons extend

In the annuls of rock and roll, a thunderous sound,
The Who emerged, breaking ground.
With power chords and a rebel's cry,
They soared to fame, reaching the sky.

Pete's guitar, a windmill's spin,
Roger's voice, a lion's din.
John's bass, a thunderous beat,
Keith's drums, wild and fleet.

"Tommy" told a tale so grand,
A rock opera that took a stand.
"Who's Next" and "Quadrophenia,"
Albums that shaped rock's criteria.

Their live shows, a force of might,
Smashing guitars, a thrilling sight.
From "My Generation" to "Baba O'Riley,"
Anthems that echo, timeless and wily.

Off the stage, their antics wild,
Keith Moon, a rock 'n' roll child.
Driving cars through hotel doors,
Throwing furniture, breaking floors.

Banned from inns, their legend grew,
Moon's wild ways, the stories true.
From poolside dives to wild nights,
Their off-stage tales, rock's wild rites.

They challenged norms, they broke the mould,
In rock's great story, their tale is told.
Their impact vast, their legacy clear,
The Who's roar, we still hear.

In the spotlight's gleam, two legends stand tall,
Tina and Shirley, voices that enthral.
Tina, the Queen of Rock 'n' Roll's might,
With a voice that roars, igniting the night.

Shirley, the Dame with a voice so grand,
Bond themes and ballads at her command.
Tina's "Proud Mary" rolls down the river,
While Shirley's "Goldfinger" makes hearts quiver.

Tina's journey, a tale of strength and fire,
From Nutbush roots to global desire.
Shirley's elegance, a diamond's shine,
Welsh valleys to stages divine.

Both faced trials, yet rose above,
With songs of power, resilience, and love.
Tina's dance, a hurricane's grace,
Shirley's poise, a timeless embrace.

Two queens of song, each unique,
In their voices, the world finds what it seeks.
Tina and Shirley, forever they'll reign,
In the hearts of fans, their legacy remains.

Do you remember Shirley Bassey,
With her voice so bold and classy?
Her songs would soar, her tunes would fly,
A diva's charm, a starry sky.

With her burly chassis, she'd stride the stage,
A presence grand, beyond her age.
In gowns that shimmered, she’d command the night,
Her voice a beacon, pure delight.

From "Goldfinger" to "Diamonds Are Forever,"
Her legacy, a shining treasure.
So here's to Shirley, with a wink and cheer,
A legend's tale, forever dear.

Aye, an evening grand we gather 'round,
Wi' friends an' laughter so profound.
A festive night tae celebrate,
The bard whose tales do captivate.

Wi’ haggis, neeps, and tatties fine,
An’ whisky bold, a taste divine.
The voices raise in jovial song,
To Robbie Burns, the night belongs.

We toast the lassies, hearts aglow,
Their beauty rare, as pure as snow.
And dance we do with joy and grace,
In honour o' his cherished place.

O’er candlelight, tales rich an’ warm,
Of love an’ life, nae storm can harm.
In friendship's glow, we fondly turn,
To celebrate our dear Burns’ charm.

So let the evening ne’er be spent,
In sorrow’s grief or heart's lament.
For Robbie Burns, a toast we raise,
In joyous cheer, his name we praise.

Slàinte Mhath!

Suddenly my heart went boom,
In a moment, lit the room,
Eyes met, sparks flew,
Lost in time, it was just us two.

In the silence, whispers loom,
Love's sweet symphony, a bloom,
Hand in hand, we found our way,
Under moonlit skies, we'd sway.

Dancing close, our worries gone,
To the rhythm of a timeless song,
Each step in perfect harmony,
Bound together, wild and free.

With every twirl, the world spun slow,
In your embrace, a gentle glow,
Caught in the magic of the night,
Dancing till the morning light.

Then the silence came too soon,
Grief's shadow, a haunting tune,
One last dance, an empty room,
Heart's echo in the gloom.

Every beat, a fervent tune,
Dancing hearts, beneath the moon,
In that instant, life transformed,
Suddenly, our souls were warmed.

Now I dance alone, in sorrow's grip,
Memories of your tender lips,
In the silence, your presence lingers,
Love's lost touch, beneath my fingers.

Silent tears fall,
Heart feels heavy,
Mind in turmoil,
Darkness surrounds,
Hope seems distant,
Lost and alone,
Searching for light,
Fighting the shadows,
Strength within,
Rising again.

The sun rises,
yet carries no promise,
no assurance in its glow.
The day unfolds,
a fragile paper plane,
darting through skies of maybe.

Steps taken
on borrowed ground,
each moment a flicker
in the void.
We hold on,
knowing not the tether,
only the fragile link to now.

Breath mingles
with the wind,
a transient gift,
a silent vow.
Eyes wide open,
capturing today,
for there is no tomorrow,
only the eternity of now.

Love whispers
soft in ears,
a sacred hymn
in a fleeting world.
Time bends
around our embrace,
twisting, turning,
never promised, always pure.

In the mosaic
of what we are,
a thousand yesterdays
form the canvas.
No tomorrow
looms ahead,
only the art
of a living masterpiece.

Hearts beat
a rhythm of today,
a symphony,
unbound by fear.
No tomorrow
waits in shadows,
only the light of here and now.

In every touch,
every whispered word,
we bind in the eternal present,
crafting dreams
not of what could be,
but what is,
and always will be.

Memory dances
like fireflies,
guiding us
to live each breath.
For no tomorrow
is certain,
only the beauty
we create in the now,
the space
between beats.

Take my hand,
no promise kept,
no future seen.
We dance on the edge
of forever,
where now is all,
and all is one.

In faith, O Lord, we find our strength,
In hope, we trust Your guiding hand,
With love, we walk the endless length,
And joy, we seek in Your grand plan.

When trials come, our faith won't fade,
Your light, our path in darkest night,
With hope, each step is calmly laid,
In love, we rest, our hearts held tight.

In joy, we praise Your wondrous name,
Each day, a gift from heavens high,
Through faith, and hope, and love's warm flame,
In joy, our spirits soar and fly.

O treacle mead, of honeyed bliss,
In ancient times, a sacred kiss,
From bees’ sweet toil, your nectar flows,
A drink of legends, as it shows.

In goblets high or humble cup,
We raise you, mead, and drink you up,
With floral notes and amber hue,
A taste of nature, pure and true.

O mead, you bring the warmth of sun,
In every sip, a joy begun,
From Viking halls to Celtic lands,
You bind us all with gentle hands.

With spices bold or fruits entwined,
Your flavours rich, a treasure find,
In feasts of old or modern cheer,
You stand as friend, forever near.

So let us toast to mead’s sweet grace,
A timeless brew, in every place,
With friends around and hearts so light,
We honour you, our pure delight.

Quiet Night
Empty Space
Haunting Cry
Memories Lie
Empty Space
Once Filled
Sacred Place
Lost Embrace
Once Filled
Sorrows seems
Passions dance
Devoid romance
Sorrow Seems
Hoping Light
Empty Air
Shes not there
Hoping Light
Ghostly Whisper
Here in Dreams
She’s not here
Ghostly Whisper
Love Sworn
Memories Flood
Rivers Blood
Love Sworn
Distant Bell
Warm Touch
Known so well
Distant Bell
Breath again
Empty Space
Lovers Trace
Breath again
World moves on
In this bed
I remember you
Breath again
World moves on
In this bed
I remember you

I'd like a crack at Beatha's crack,
But Beatha's crack is for thee.
Her smile's a treasure, a shining stack,
Locked away, just out of reach for me.

I will always cherish the dawn,
When the world is quiet and new.
In the stillness, I find my song,
A melody just for you.

With every sunrise, hope is born,
Each ray a promise shining bright.
In the morning's embrace, we're reborn,
Our dreams taking flight.

I'll always guard the twilight's glow,
Where day and night softly meet.
In the whispering winds that blow,
Our hearts sync their beat.

Through dawn and dusk, in joy or sorrow,
With you, my path is clear.
I'll treasure every new tomorrow,
For in my heart, you'll always be near.

I walk these paths we once explored,
Each step echoes of your name.
In memories, you're my adored,
A love that time cannot tame.

Though you've departed from this world,
Your essence lingers in the air.
In every flower that's unfurled,
I find a trace of you there.

Nights are long and filled with dreams,
Of moments we once shared.
Your laughter, like the brightest beams,
In my heart, you're ensnared.

Though you're not here to hold my hand,
Your spirit guides me through.
In every star, in every land,
My love, I'm missing you.

Ah, Arwell sailed the seven seas,
With gusts of wind and salty breeze,
A sailor bold, or so he claimed,
But mishaps followed, unashamed.

With compass lost, he'd oft declare,
"Ah well," he'd laugh without a care,
For Arwell's tales of naval pride,
Had more of humour than of guide.

One day he tried to catch a whale,
But hooked himself upon the sail,
"Ah well," he mused, in tangled plight,
As crewmates chuckled at the sight.

In stormy nights and waters rough,
His skills were lacking, sure enough,
Yet Arwell's charm and hearty cheer,
Could make the toughest sailor veer.

A pirate crew once came to fight,
With swords and pistols gleaming bright,
But Arwell tripped and splashed their guns,
"Ah well," he grinned, "the battle's done!"

Though navigation wasn't strong,
His friends knew where they did belong,
For Arwell's heart was kind and true,
And laughs were plenty, troubles few.

So raise your glass to Arwell's might,
The sailor who turned wrong to right,
With "Ah well" as his motto bold,
A tale of mirth forever told.

I am scraping my car windows, my fingers cold as ice,
The morning air is biting, a chill that isn't nice.

The engine hums to life, a breath of warmth inside,
But out here in the frosty dawn, there's nowhere to hide.

The world is still and quiet, a frozen, silent scene,
The sun begins to rise, casting a golden sheen.

I finish up my task, my breath a steamy cloud,
Ready to face the day, feeling strong, feeling proud.