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

In the heart of the kitchen,
where pots clatter and steam whispers,
there lies a tale of humble beginnings,
a saga of peas and ham,
a symphony of flavours,
a dance of the mundane and the marvellous.

Oh, Pea and Ham Soup,
you are the unsung hero of the pantry,
the green knight in a ceramic bowl,
the warm embrace on a cold, dreary day.

Once upon a time,
in a land of bubbling broths,
a lonely pea dreamed of greatness,
of joining forces with the mighty ham,
to create a potion of comfort,
a brew of bliss.

The peas, so green and round,
rolled into the *** with a plop,
like tiny emeralds diving into a sea of broth,
their destiny intertwined with the smoky ham,
a partnership forged in the cauldron of culinary magic.

The ham, oh the ham,
with its rich, savoury whispers,
joined the peas with a sizzle, a pop, and a bang,
bringing tales of smoky adventures,
of hickory forests and salty seas.

Together they simmered,
in a slow waltz of flavours,
the peas softening,
the ham infusing,
a marriage of textures,
a union of taste.

Garlic and onions,
the mischievous twins,
danced around the ***,
adding their own flair,
a hint of mischief,
a touch of zest.

Carrots and celery,
the reliable companions,
joined the fray,
bringing crunch and colour,
a rainbow in the ***,
a feast for the eyes.

The broth bubbled and gurgled,
like a storyteller weaving a yarn,
each bubble a chapter,
each gurgle a verse,
in the epic of Pea and Ham Soup.

And when the time was right,
the ladle dipped in,
bringing forth a spoonful of history,
a taste of tradition,
a sip of solace.

Oh, Pea and Ham Soup,
you are more than just a meal,
you are a memory,
a comfort,
a friend.

In the quiet of the kitchen,
as the last spoonful is savoured,
the tale of Pea and Ham Soup lingers,
a story told in flavours,
a poem written in broth.

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.

In the tapestry of life, threads woven tight,
Three sisters stand, a bond of light.
Each one unique, a story to tell,
Together, a symphony, a magical spell.

In childhood’s realm, we played and dreamed,
Laughter echoed, our spirits gleamed.
Through fields of green and skies so blue,
We found our world, just us few.

Eldest sister, wise and strong,
A guiding star, where we belong.
Her voice, a melody, calm and clear,
In her embrace, we knew no fear.

Middle sister, heart so pure,
A gentle soul, love’s true allure.
Her laughter, a song, bright and free,
In her presence, joy’s decree.

Youngest sister, wild and bold,
A spirit fierce, a heart of gold.
Her dreams, a fire, burning bright,
In her eyes, the world’s delight.

Through storms and trials, we held tight,
In each other’s arms, we found our might.
When tears did fall, and shadows grew,
Together, we faced the world anew.

In whispered secrets, shared at night,
In moments of sorrow, moments of fright,
We found our strength, in love’s embrace,
Three sisters, a bond time can’t erase.

Now grown and scattered, paths diverge,
Yet in our hearts, a constant surge.
For love remains, a timeless thread,
Binding us, though words unsaid.

In every smile, in every tear,
In every triumph, every fear,
The love of sisters, pure and true,
A beacon bright, in all we do.

So here’s to you, my sisters dear,
In every moment, far or near.
For in this life, one truth I see,
The love of my sisters, forever with me.

In the town of Loughborough, where sheep
Outnumber people, and the rain falls soft,
There lived a man named Bob, who had a dream
To build a rocket ship from old tin cans

He scoured the town for parts, a toaster here,
A broken vacuum there, and soon enough,
His yard became a scrapyard, much to the
Dismay of Mrs. Crumble next door.

“Bob, what on earth are you up to?” she’d shout,
As he welded bits of metal in the night.
“I’m off to Mars, dear Crumble, can’t you see?
I’ve got a date with destiny and stars!”

The townsfolk gathered 'round to watch the show,
As Bob unveiled his masterpiece of junk.
With duct tape, glue, and hope, he climbed inside,
And pressed a button labelled “Up We Go!”

The rocket sputtered, coughed, and then it soared,
A tin can comet streaking through the sky.
The sheep looked up, bemused, and chewed their cud,
While Mrs. Crumble fainted on the spot.

Bob’s rocket flew past clouds and birds and planes,
And soon enough, he found himself in space.
He marvelled at the stars, the moon, the Earth,
And thought, “Well, this is quite a lovely view.”

But then he heard a clank, a groan, a snap,
And realized his ship was failing fast.
He grabbed a wrench, a hammer, and some tape,
And tried to fix the mess he’d made of things.

Alas, poor Bob, his rocket was no match
For gravity’s relentless, mighty pull.
He crash-landed in a farmer’s field of corn,
And crawled out, dazed, but grinning ear to ear.

The farmer scratched his head and asked,
“What now?” Bob laughed and said, “I think I’ll try again.
But first, a cup of tea, a nap, and then,
I’ll build a better rocket, just you wait!”

And so, in Loughborough, the legend grew,
Of Bob, the man who aimed to reach the stars,
With nothing but his wits, some junk, and dreams,
And made the town a little brighter too.

It broke, it broke, the teapot spoke,
In a language only kettles know.
The saucer sighed, the cup just cried,
And the sugar bowl put on a show.
The spoon did dance, a silver prance,
While the fork played a tune on the side.
The knife, so sharp, began to harp,
About the time it nearly died.
The clock struck twelve, the mouse did delve,
Into a cheese that wasn’t there.
The cat meowed, the dog just howled,
At the moon that hung in the air.
The table shook, the cookbook took,
A leap into the soup ***’s arms.
The chair did spin, the broom jumped in,
And the mop sang of distant farms.
The windowpane, it felt the strain,
Of the wind that whispered tales.
The curtain swayed, the dust parade,
Marched on with tiny tails.
The lamp did flicker, the shadows bicker,
About who was the darkest of all.
The rug did slide, the floor just sighed,
As the pictures began to fall.
The doorbell rang, the toaster sang,
A song of burnt toast and jam.
The fridge did hum, the blender spun,
And the microwave said, “Wham!”
The house did creak, the hinges squeak,
In a symphony of sounds so grand.
The walls did laugh, the chimney chaff,
At the antics of this merry band.
It broke, it broke, the teapot spoke,
In a world where nonsense reigns.
But in the end, my dear old friend,
It’s the joy that does remain.

There once was a mosquito named Jack,
Who bit in the small of my back.
I scratched and I swore,
As she flew out the door,
Leaving me with an itchy attack!

****** Mosquitos – Literally

Through storms, Christ sustains,
In shadows, His light remains,
Peace and hope, He reigns.

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.

Heavy eyes,
                      The night's embrace,
Waning strength,
                      A slowing pace.
Dreams call softly,
                     “Pull me near,”
Exhaustion whispers,
                      "Rest is here."

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.

In the early hours, before the dawn,
A mother’s work is never gone.
With gentle hands and heart so true,
She faces tasks that few would do.

A cry of need, a diaper’s call,
She rushes in, she handles all.
Poo and ***, the daily grind,
Yet in her eyes, love you’ll find.

The messes made, the spills and stains,
She cleans with care, she never complains.
For in each chore, a bond is built,
A mother’s love, without guilt.

Puke on the floor, a fevered brow,
She soothes with whispers, here and now.
Through sleepless nights and endless days,
Her strength and grace, a constant praise.

She wipes the tears, she calms the fears,
Through every stage, through all the years.
Her love endures, through thick and thin,
A mother’s heart, where life begins.

So, here’s to mums, in all they do,
In every mess, they see it through.
For in the poo, the ***, the puke,
They find the joy, the love, the truth.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

If you had three wishes
Tell me what they would be.
A fancy car, a new guitar,
Or that money grows on trees

If I had three wishes
I tell you what they would be.
If I had three wishes
You would be all three.

Do you know how the rules go?
You cannot wish for world peace.
Or wish for love from anyone.
And with any an old friend be

You cannot wish for more wishes,
That does not bother me.
'Cos if I had three wishes,
You would be all three.

I could say "I want to fly,"
But that would get old after a while.
A million things that I could do
But they would be nothing without you.
So, I cannot think of anything....

If you had three wishes
Do you know what they would be,
Would one be saved for a rainy day?
Or for someone more in need.

If I had three wishes
I tell you what they'd be.
If I had three wishes
You would be all three!

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 a peaceful room with candles aglow,
She works her magic, gentle and slow.
Her hands, like whispers, glide with grace,
Easing tension, finding the place.

With soothing oils, she starts her art,
A dance of fingers, a healer’s heart.
Knots unravel, stress takes flight,
In her touch, the world feels right.

She exfoliates with tender care,
Removing worries, layer by layer.
A scrub of salt, a touch so kind,
Leaving softness, and peace of mind.

Her presence calm, her spirit bright,
In her hands, the day turns light.
This lady masseuse, with skill so true,
Bringing comfort, renewing you.

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.

Leg ends on the road, they wibble and wobble,
Dancing in the moonlight, they giggle and gobble.
They chase the shadows, hop and skip,
With a flip-flop, they never trip.

Wiggly-waggly, to and fro,
Leg ends travel, where do they go?
Through fields of jelly and pudding hills,
They sing with glee and joyful thrills.

Tickling tulips and teasing trees,
Leg ends float on the evening breeze.
Munching on moonbeams, sipping stars,
They journey far in flying cars.

In a land where the silly meets the sweet,
Leg ends on the road never miss a beat.
With laughter loud and smiles so wide,
Their nonsense dance is a magical ride.

And as they wander, tales unfold,
Leg ends transform to legends bold.
A misheard word, a laugh it sends,
When "leg ends" are heard in place of "legends."

In the depths of shadows, where hope seems distant, a soul stands still, contemplating the price.
The weight of sorrow, like a heavy blanket, suffocating, an endless night, where even the stars refuse to shine.
A heart quivers, devoid of light, every beat a struggle, an echo of despair.
Within the darkness, soft murmurs arise, faint echoes persist, despite the fall.
In the heart of grief, a spark kindles, a flicker, faint, like a firefly in the night.
Through eyes bathed in tears, strength emerges, in moments of stillness, a heart is reborn.
Even in the darkest hour, resilience blooms, a delicate flower, pushing through the cracks.
As the sun begins its ascent, a burst of colour illuminates the sky, from profound pain to soaring joy, a long journey, an endless quest.
When elation's wings lift you, a heart soars, boundless sky, laughter reverberates, a joyful sound, a symphony of life.
Both the highs and lows, integral parts of life, as the river flows.
For each tear, a smile may appear, in every sorrow, joy takes form, a dance of contrasts, a delicate balance.
Embrace the dance of light and dark, the ebb and flow, each fleeting spark.
In balance, we find our path, through night and dawn, to each new day, to each new beginning

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.

I write for the dreamers, lost in thought,
For every soul that battled and fought,
For those who wander in search of light,
And for the hearts sparked by the night.

I pen my words for the broken and mended,
For stories untold and lives suspended.
For whispers of love across the air,
And moments we share, beyond compare.

For the past that shapes, the future that gleams,
The valleys of sorrow, the peaks of dreams.
For the eyes that seek, and ears that listen,
In every tear, in every glisten.

I write for the silence, the voices unheard,
For passions ignited by the simplest of words.
For friends and foes, for strangers anew,
In every line, my heart rings true.

For kings and queens on thrones of gold,
And politicians with their stories told.
For children’s laughter, for parents’ pride,
For brothers and sisters, side by side.

In ink, I find the bridge to connect,
To amplify joys, to reflect and inspect.
But most of all, across all seas,
I write, my heart, I write for me.

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.

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.

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!

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.

In the heart of a bustling city,  
Where time seemed still, so pretty,  
A library stood, small and quaint,  
With scents of books, ink, and paint.

But this was no ordinary place,  
It held a secret, a magical grace.  
At midnight’s chime, it came alive,  
Books would whisper, stories thrive.

Characters stepped from pages bright,  
Wandering aisles in the moonlight.  
A young girl named Lily, pure and keen,  
Found this library, like a dream.

She loved to read, her heart’s delight,  
And on that special, starry night,  
She saw the books with a gentle glow,  
Curiosity sparked, she had to know.

She touched a book, and to her surprise,  
Was pulled into a world before her eyes.  
A forest magical, creatures grand,  
Talking animals, a wondrous land.

A wise old owl, with feathers gray,  
Guided her through the forest way.  
He spoke of magic, stories’ might,  
And the library’s secret, hidden in light.

Lily explored, her heart so light,  
Meeting characters, day and night.  
Learning lessons, brave and true,  
In worlds of wonder, skies so blue.

As dawn approached, with gentle grace,  
She found herself back in the place,  
Holding the book, still softly bright,  
Her heart aglow with pure delight.

From that day on, each night she’d go,  
To the enchanted library, where stories flow.  
Adventures endless, wonders vast,  
In the world of books, her love would last.

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.

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.

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

In the land of Chile, far and wide,
There grew a chilli, filled with pride.
But this wasn't just any spice,
Its tale, my friend, is quite precise.

From Mexico, the seeds did roam,
Across the seas to find a home.
They landed in the Andes' care,
In Chile's soil, rich and rare.

The chilli grew, with zest and zing,
But felt a chill in early spring.
It shivered in the mountain air,
A chilli's fate, oh quite unfair!

"A Mexican chilli," it declared with cheer,
"Should be warm and full of fiery cheer!
But here I am in Chile's breeze,
Chilly and cold, I want to freeze!"

The farmers laughed and wrapped it tight,
In blankets warm, a funny sight.
They whispered tales to keep it warm,
Of sunlit days and summer's charm.

The chilli dreamed of spicy dishes,
Of tacos, salsas, all its wishes.
But in the Andes' chilly hold,
It felt its dreams were getting cold.

One day it met a cactus bold,
Who said, "Dear chilli, do be told,
In Chile's cold, you'll find your spark,
A chilly chilli, leaves a mark."

The chilli laughed and found its place,
In soups and stews, a warming grace.
For even in the coldest climes,
A chilli's spice can charm at times.

So next time you taste a fiery bite,
Remember the chilli's chilly plight.
From Mexico to Chile's crest,
A chilly chilli can be the best!

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.

In a hall where buns abound,
A Bun Dance party can be found.
With pastries piled up to the sky,
And doughnuts dancing, oh my, oh my!

The buns wore hats of icing sweet,
With sprinkles dancing at their feet.
Cinnamon rolls spun round and round,
While jelly-filled buns bounced on the ground.

The croissants did a graceful twirl,
While bagels gave a whirl and swirl.
Muffins marched in a tasty parade,
And scones in a conga line were made.

The air was filled with sugary cheer,
As buns and rolls all gathered near.
With laughter, joy, and crumbs galore,
The Bun Dance left them wanting more!

So if you crave a sweet romance,
Join the fun at the Bun Dance.
Where buns and rolls in abundance play,
And dance the night (and crumbs) away!

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.

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.

To hear,
Catch sound
In flight.
A whisper,
A hum,
Day or night.

Listening digs,
Heart's core.
Empathy blooms,
Understanding soars.

---

Hear is
Catching sound,
Fleeting, clear.
Listening’s connection
Truly sincere.
Paths diverge,
Surface-bound,
Listening dives,
Truths found.

In the dark night, they come, tiny vampires on silent wings,
seeking the warmth of human blood, their presence felt in the itch that stings.

A buzz, a hum, a fleeting dart, they land with stealth, a needle’s *****,
drawing life with every bite, leaving behind a mark so slick.

Oh, ****** mosquitos, bane of sleep,
your thirst insatiable, your bite so deep.
You dance in shadows, evade the swat,
a relentless foe, a nightly plot.

In the dark, I wage my war,
with claps and slaps, a futile chore.
Yet still you come, relentless, sly,
a tiny terror beneath the sky.

But in the dawn’s first light, you fade,
your reign of night, a brief parade.
And though you leave me marked and sore,
I’ll face you down each night once more.

For in this battle, small but fierce, I’ll find my peace, my sleep, my cheer.
And though you bite, and though you sting, I’ll rise again, a warrior king.

Restless night lingers,
Moonlight whispers secrets soft,
Eyes wide, dreams adrift.

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.

I kissed a girl, I kissed a guy,
Underneath the twilight sky.
With stars above and hearts so high,
We danced until the night passed by.
In moments shared, no need to lie,
Just pure connection, you and I.
With every touch, a gentle sigh,
A bond that words could not deny.
Through laughter, tears, and dreams that fly,
Together, we could reach the sky.
In love’s embrace, we both comply,
A perfect match, a sweet reply.

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.

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.

Kris Kristofferson, a poet's soul,
With lyrics that made hearts whole.
From “Me and Bobby McGee” to the silver screen,
His talents shine, forever seen.

Golden sun sets low,
Waves whisper secrets to shore,
Peace in twilight’s glow.