In 2,113,843,200 seconds, lives are spun,
Moments pass by each a note in life’s song,
Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to years,
Time unfurls slowly, calms and endears.

From the first drawn breath to twilight’s embrace,
Seconds form a fabric, memories entwine,
2,113,843,200 beats of our hearts,
Marking dreams, joy, pain—life's varied parts.

Tick-tock, the moments ripple, spread wide,
Each second a whisper, carried by the tide,
In 67 years, a pattern so vast,
2,113,843,200 seconds, a lifetime amassed.

My Story To Be Continued...

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!

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.

Laughter fills the air,
Joy in every leap and bound,
Playtime knows no care.

In this room, the air is light,
With laughter echoing day and night.
Conversations flow like a gentle breeze,
Bringing smiles and putting minds at ease.
Ideas bounce like rubber *****,
Off the walls and down the halls.
Creativity’s a constant guest,
In this space, we do our best.
The vibe is warm, the mood is bright,
Even when the clock strikes midnight.
So here’s to the atmosphere we share,
Full of joy and without a care!

In waters deep, you took the dive,
Emerging new, with spirits alive.
In Christ’s embrace, your path now lies,
With His light guiding your skies.

Through days of joy and nights of doubt,
Remember what this day’s about.
In trials tough and moments sweet,
Christ walks with you, His love replete.

With every step, in faith you grow,
In His footsteps, you will know
The grace, the peace, the endless care,
A life in Him beyond compare.

Stand firm, be bold, let courage rise,
For in His eyes, you’re the priceless prize.
In service, love, and truth be found,
With Christ’s own light, forever crowned.

A lavish spread, a tempting sight,
Each dish a promise, each bite delight.
But hidden within, a silent foe,
A treacherous toxin, a secret woe.

The night begins with laughter and cheer,
Unaware of the danger lurking near.
A sip, a taste, a morsel consumed,
The joy of the meal, soon to be doomed.

A sudden twist, a stomach’s churn,
The body’s revolt, the fever’s burn.
Sweat beads form, the chills take hold,
A battle within, fierce and bold.

Hours pass in a haze of pain,
The feast’s betrayal, a cruel disdain.
Yet through the torment, a lesson learned,
Of caution and care, respect hard-earned.

For in the aftermath, as strength returns,
A vow is made, a wisdom burns.
To cherish health, to heed the signs,
And guard against the food that undermines.

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.

In a land where rules are made,
A curious thought began to wade.
“The law must be obeyed,” they say,
“For breaking it is not the way.”
“But why must we follow this decree?”
Asked a voice from the old oak tree.
“Because the law is what we must heed,
To break it is an unlawful deed.”
“But why is breaking it so wrong?”
The question lingered, soft yet strong.
“Because the law says so, you see,
And thus, it must be followed strictly.”
Around and round the logic spun,
A circle danced, a web was spun.
For in this land of rules and might,
The answer lay in circular light.
The law must be obeyed, it’s clear,
Because to break it brings us near,
To the very thing we must avoid,
A loop of logic, neatly deployed.

Sometimes there is the need to just walk away,
Another time to run, to not delay.
In moments when the heart feels torn,
A path unknown, a love reborn.

With every step, a choice we make,
To hold on tight or to forsake.
The journey’s long, the road is wide,
In love’s embrace, we must decide.

When shadows fall and doubts arise,
Look to the stars, the moonlit skies.
For in the night, a guiding light,
To lead us through the darkest night.

Sometimes we walk, sometimes we flee,
In search of where our hearts should be.
But in the end, love finds its way,
To bring us peace, a brighter day.

The eternal mystery, where life’s journey finds its boundary. A passage from this earthly plane to realms unknown, where souls remain.

Death
In shadows deep, we contemplate,
the final breath, the closing gate.
Yet in this stillness, hope does bloom,
the promise of life beyond the tomb.

Grief
A tempest in the heart,
tears that flow when loved ones depart.
Memories etched upon our souls,
their laughter, touch, and whispered goals.

Faith
A beacon in the night,
guides us through the darkest fight.
For death is but a transient shore,
and love endures forevermore.

So let us honour those who’ve flown,
their legacy in stories sown,
and as we weep, we also find,
that death is not the end of mind.

For in the vastness of the skies,
their spirits dance, forever rise.
And though we mourn, we also know,
they’ve found a home where angels go.

In the hush of night, when stars align,
we sense a peace that's near divine.
For death's not just an end, but start,
a journey of the eternal heart.

In every tear, a love's embrace,
In every fear, a hidden grace.
For those we've lost, we'll meet again,
in realms of light, without the pain.

Did you want anything?
She asked with a gentle smile,
Just a moment of your time,
He replied, pausing for a while.

What shall we talk about?
She inquired, eyes bright and keen,
The dreams we chase, the fears we doubt,
He said, with a thoughtful sheen.

Do you believe in fate?
She wondered, voice soft and low,
I think we shape our own path,
He answered, letting his thoughts flow.

What brings you joy?
She asked, leaning closer still,
The simple things, a child’s toy,
He mused, with a quiet thrill.

Where do you see us going?
She questioned, hope in her tone,
To places unknown, ever growing,
He whispered, feeling less alone.

Did you want anything?
She repeated, a final plea,
Just to be here, in this moment,
He said, with you and me.

In the potter’s hands, the clay does rest,
A work in progress, not yet its best.
Though marred and flawed, it holds potential,
A masterpiece, so quintessential.

With every turn, the wheel does spin,
A chance to start anew within.
The potter’s touch, both firm and kind,
Transforms the clay, renews the mind.

When cracks appear and pieces fall,
He doesn’t discard, but mends them all.
For in each flaw, a story’s told,
Of strength and grace, of courage bold.

So don’t throw the clay away, my friend,
For in its form, there’s much to mend.
With patience, love, and tender care,
A vessel strong, beyond compare

In the land of tea and crumpets, where politics is a game,
The voters cast their ballots, but the outcome was quite tame.
Labour claimed a victory, with cheers and loud applause,
Yet the vote count barely shifted, leaving many to pause.

“How did they win?” the pundits cried, “With numbers so petite?”
“Did the Tories take a holiday, or just admit defeat?”
The headlines screamed of triumph, a red wave on the rise,
But in the voting booths, it seemed, there was no such surprise.

The leaders took to Twitter, with hashtags and with glee,
“Democracy has spoken!” they declared for all to see.
But whispers in the corridors, and murmurs in the halls,
Spoke of a quiet victory, with margins thin and small.

So here’s to the election, where the numbers stayed the same,
Yet somehow Labour triumphed, in this curious political game.
For in the world of politics, where logic often bends,
A win is still a win, my friends, no matter how it ends.

With the quiet at dawn’s first light,
When shadows fade, and dreams take flight,
Whisper softly, “I love you,” dear,
For time is swift, and moments clear.

Do not let fear bind your heart,
Nor let silence keep you apart.
For in the pathway of life we tread,
Words unsaid are tears unshed.

Each day a gift, each breath a chance,
To weave love’s song in life’s expanse.
Hold near the ones who make you whole,
Speak from the depths of your soul.

In laughter’s echo, in sorrow’s sigh,
In the twinkle of a lover’s eye,
Say the words that hearts do crave,
For love is bold, and love is brave.

Do not wait for perfect time,
For clocks do chime and stars align.
In the now, in the here,
Let your love be loud and clear.

For time, it flows like rivers wide,
And moments lost are like the tide.
They ebb away, they fade to grey,
So love out loud, come what may.

In the fabric of life’s grand weave,
Let love be the thread you leave.
A legacy of hearts entwined,
A testament to love’s design.

So never be afraid, my friend,
To let your love and words transcend.
For in the end, when all is through,
The greatest gift is “I love you.”

Goodbye, Yesterday
Yesterday lingers like a shadow,
A whisper of what was, a ghost of dreams.
It held my hand through fleeting moments,
But now, I must let go.
Memories are etched in the twilight,
Fading with the dawn of today.
I see your face in the morning mist,
But the sun rises, and you disappear.

Goodbye, yesterday,
With your laughter and your tears,
Your promises and your regrets.
You were a chapter in my story,
But the pages turn, and I must move on.
In the silence of the night,
I hear your echoes, soft and distant.
You were the canvas of my past,
But today, I paint anew.

Goodbye, yesterday,
You were a friend, a foe, a lesson learned.
I carry your wisdom in my heart,
But my journey calls me forward.
Today I move on.

Hate is a shadow
Creeping
Festering
Poisoning minds
Spreading unseen
Turning hearts cold
Eyes blind
Violence erupts
A storm
No warning
It shatters
Leaving scars
Real
And of the mind
A cycle of pain
Endlessly turning
Breaking spirits
Leaving deep jagged marks

In the aftermath
Silence
A weight
A void
Lives altered
Dreams shattered
The echoes of anger
A haunting void

Yet in the dark
A glimmer
A hope
That refuses to die
For even in the face
Of hate
And violence
The human spirit can rise
Seeking peace
Yearning and longing
For light

In the hands of Jesus, we are clay,
Moulded with love, day by day.
Though we may falter, crack, and break,
He holds us close, for His love’s sake.

With gentle touch, He shapes our form,
Through every trial, every storm.
He sees our worth, beyond the flaws,
In His embrace, we find our cause.

When we feel broken, lost, and weak,
His strength and grace are what we seek.
He doesn’t discard, He doesn’t stray,
For Jesus didn’t throw the clay away.

In His hands, we are renewed,
A masterpiece, with love imbued.
Through every scar, His light does shine,
A testament to love divine

During the night, he lays alone,
A man of strength, his heart a stone.
His eyes, once bright, now dim with pain,
A silent storm, an endless rain.
He walks through life with a steady stride,
But deep within, his sorrows hides.
His wife, his love, now gone from sight,
Her memory haunts him every night.
He bottles up his grief and tears,
Hides away his darkest fears.
To the world, he shows a stoic face,
But inside, he’s lost in a desolate place.
Her laughter echoes in his mind,
A melody he can no longer find.
Her touch, her smile, her gentle grace,
Now just shadows in an empty space.
He holds his emotions, keeps them in check,
A fortress built, a heart to protect.
Yet in the silence, when no one’s near,
He whispers her name, sheds a single tear.
The days go by, the seasons change,
But his love for her remains the same.
A love so deep, a bond so true,
A part of him that he never knew.
He carries on, as he must do,
But his heart is heavy, his soul is blue.
For in his chest, a void so wide,
A place where his beloved used to reside.
He dreams of her in the dead of night,
A fleeting glimpse, a ghostly sight.
And though he holds his feelings tight,
He longs for her with all his might.
In the end, he knows he must move on,
But her memory lingers, never gone.
A man of strength, yet broken inside,
A testament to the love he cannot hide.

In a world so vast and wide,
Seeking answers, yet they hide,
In the shadows of my mind.
Paths diverge, which way to go?
Questions linger, answers slow,
Heart and mind in constant fight,
Searching for a guiding light.
Dreams and hopes, they intertwine,
In this maze, I seek a sign,
To find my way, to understand,
The mysteries of this land.
Yet in confusion, there’s a spark,
A chance to make a brand new mark,
For in the chaos, I might find,
A clearer path, a peace of mind.
But now I walk this road alone,
Since fate has taken you, my own,
Your memory, a guiding star,
Though you’re gone, you’re never far.
In the silence, I hear your voice,
In the darkness, I make a choice,
To carry on, though heart does ache,
For your love, my soul’s awake.
With God’s support, I find my way,
Through nights so dark, and brightest day,
Heaven waits, a promise true,
One day, my love, I’ll be with you.

Who am I?

In this world of guises and shadows,
Where whispers shape the air,
I seek a route less travelled,
A passage bold and rare.
To drop the weight of others’ dreams,
And walk my own right way,
To find the light within my spirit,
And let it guide my day.
No more the ties of expectancy,
Nor the fear of being seen,
I accept my imperfections,
In the quest to just be me.

With bravery as my compass,
And honesty my guiding star,
I walk into the unknown,
To discover who I am.
For in the heart of truthfulness,
Lies a freedom pure and bright,
A life lived in truth,
A beacon in the fight
So here I stand, unguarded,
With a spirit wild and free,
In the beauty of my essence,
I just want to be me.

There’s a kingdom where dreams and shadows interlace,
Where murmurs of the stars explode the night,
There lies a world of wonders still concealed,
Of impossible things that dare to be.
The mountains rise, challenging gravity,
Their heights caress the heavens’ eternal blue.
The oceans dance with secrets in the deeps,
And time itself bends to the will of dreams.
One thought can spark a thousand flames,
A whisper can transmute the course of fate.
In every heart and soul, a universe resides,
With endless possibilities untold.
The borders of what we know vanishes,
As minds explore the vast unknown expanse.
For in the realm of dreams, all things are true,
And that was once impossible, now breathes.
So let us journey forth with open hearts,
Embrace the magic of the hidden ways.
For in the dance of life, we find our path,
And in the quest for dreams, we find our reality.

With hands divine, He shapes our clay,
Guiding us gently, day by day.
In every heart, a spark of light,
A reflection of His love so bright.

Through trials faced and lessons learned,
In His embrace, our souls are turned.
From brokenness, He makes us whole,
Imparting grace to every soul.

In kindness shown and love expressed,
We mirror Him, our lives are blessed.
With every act of selfless care,
His image shines, His love we share.

In His likeness, we are made,
A masterpiece, His love displayed.
In every heart, His light does glow,
A testament to the love we know.

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

In the neighbourhoods of being,
Where stardust settles on weary shoulders,
We find ourselves entangled –
Threads of life, woven into a cosmic quilt.

I. Constellations

We are constellations, distant yet connected,
Each star a story etched across the night.
Orion hunts, Cassiopeia reclines,
And Vega sings her ancient ballad.

II. The Tides of Time

Time, that elusive river, carries us forward,
Its currents shaping continents and hearts.
We drift, collide, and carve canyons of memory,
Leaving footprints on the shores of existence.

III. Love's Frayed Edges

Love, oh love! A fragile thread we weave,
Tying souls together across vast expanses.
Sometimes it's a silken bond, unbreakable,
Other times, a frayed edge threatening to unravel.

IV. Shadows and Light

In the chiaroscuro of existence,
Shadows dance with light, and we –
We are both, casting our own darkness,
Yet yearning for the warmth of dawn.

V. Echoes of Laughter

Laughter echoes through crowded streets,
A symphony of shared joy and fleeting moments.
We pass like ships, our laughter trailing behind,
Briefly touching, then sailing toward distant shores.

VI. Broken Bridges

Bridges span chasms, connecting hearts,
Yet some remain unfinished, suspended mid-air.
We build with hope, but storms erode our foundations,
And sometimes, we must leap into the abyss alone.

VII. Whispers in the Wind

The wind carries secrets – whispers of ancestors,
Promises made under moonlight, and confessions.
We listen, our ears attuned to the breeze,
Hoping to catch fragments of forgotten stories.

VIII. Quantum Entanglement

Perhaps we are particles, entangled,
Our fates intertwined across dimensions.
When one spins, the other responds,
No matter the distance or the silence.

IX. The Unseen Threads

Beyond the visible, there are threads unseen,
Binding us to strangers, lovers, enemies.
We tug, unravel, mend, and unravel again,
A ceaseless dance of connection and detachment.

X. The Final Stitch

And when our time wanes, when stars fade,
We become the final stitch in this grand design.
Our essence lingers, woven into the fabric,
A testament to our existence – brief, yet profound.


Listen, I say, to the whispers of the universe, my friend. Listen

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.

It's a hard rain that's gonna fall,
On the fields where the silent crows call.
Where once were the sounds of children's glee,
Now only whispers of what used to be.

It's a hard rain that's gonna wash away,
The dreams we painted in colours of day.
The laughter, the love, and all we knew,
Drowned in the downpour, leaving no clue.

It's a hard rain that's gonna beat,
Against the windows, in the empty street.
Where lovers walked hand in hand with hope,
Now just memories with which to cope.

It's a hard rain that's gonna pour,
On the heart that can't take anymore.
The pain, the loss, too much to bear,
In the deluge, we gasp for air.

It's a hard rain, relentless and cold,
A testament to the stories untold.
But even as the storm rages on,
We find the strength to carry on.

For it's a hard rain, but it will end,
And in its wake, we'll start to mend.
With each drop, let the old depart,
And water the seeds of a new start.

It was January last Wednesday,
When the moon turned bright green,
The stars danced a tango,
And the sun wore a sheen.
The clouds sang a lullaby,
To the mountains so high,
While the rivers played hopscotch,
With the fishes passing by.
The trees whispered secrets,
To the birds in the air,
And the flowers wore hats,
Made of chocolate eclairs.
The wind told a joke,
That made the rocks laugh,
And the grass did a jig,
On the giraffe’s behalf.
So if you see a rainbow,
On a snowy summer’s day,
Just remember this tale,
Of January last Wednesday.

In the land of down-under,
Where kangaroos and koalas lie,
Came Charles and Camilla, regal and grand,
To the heart of Australia’s vibrant land.

With smiles and waves, they toured the towns,
In royal attire, no need for crowns.
From Sydney’s shores to Melbourne’s streets,
They met with Aussies, shared warm greets.

But amidst the cheers, a voice arose,
A senator’s cry, a moment froze.
“Not our King,” she boldly declared,
In Canberra’s halls, her message aired.

Yet through it all, they carried on,
With grace and poise, from dusk till dawn.
They danced with joy, they laughed with glee,
In the spirit of true camaraderie.

For in this visit, a bond was formed,
Between the crown and a land transformed.
A journey marked by moments bright,
In Australia’s warm and welcoming light.

Dear Devil,
I pen this final note,
Upon the parchment where shadows float.
Your grasp, once feared, now broken, lost,
In light of truth, you pay the cost.

You sought to bind my heart in chains,
To drown my soul in endless pains.
With whispers dark and promises sly,
You thought my spirit you’d defy.

But through the flames, I saw the dawn,
A strength within, reborn, redrawn.
The love, the hope, the light of grace,
Defied your lies, reclaimed my space.

Your temptations, once a bitter lure,
Now hollow tricks, they fail, obscure.
For I have walked through darkest night,
And found my soul, a radiant light.

You've lost, dear Devil, hear my call,
In every scar, in every fall.
For from the darkness, I have soared,
A victor, fearless, evermore.

No longer do your whispers scare,
For love and hope, I deeply wear.
You’ve lost, dear Devil, understand,
Against my will, you’ll never stand.

So take your tricks and shadowed schemes,
For I am free, unchained by dreams.
You’ve lost, and I shall rise anew,
In light and strength, forever true.

Living alone brings a unique mix of solitude, freedom, and introspection. The daily rhythm shifts: there’s an eerie silence that fills spaces once brimming with shared life and activity. This silence, though unsettling at first, often becomes a cherished companion.

Morning routines morph into a personal ritual. There’s no rush to sync schedules. Breakfast can be an unhurried affair with a book in hand or simply watching the world wake up outside your window. The house remains undisturbed, a blank canvas awaiting your mark each day.

Tasks that were once shared are now solely your responsibility. Cooking becomes both a chore and a creative outlet; experimenting with recipes without worrying about anyone else's tastes. The household chores are on your terms too – no need to negotiate laundry schedules or argue over who last vacuumed.

In the quiet, there’s space for hobbies and passions to flourish. Whether it's painting, writing, gardening, or playing music, there’s an abundance of time to delve deeply into your interests. Your home becomes a reflection of your inner world, evolving as you do.

But there’s also the flip side – navigating loneliness. Human beings are inherently social creatures, and the absence of another’s presence can be stark. It’s easy to fall into patterns of isolation. The key lies in balancing solitude with social connections. Regular calls with friends and family, participating in community activities, or simply going for a walk can help maintain a sense of connection to the larger world.

Living alone also brings a heightened self-reliance. From fixing a leaky tap to assembling furniture, you become adept at handling life’s little challenges. This fosters a deep sense of independence and resilience. You learn to enjoy your own company, valuing the tranquillity and control that living alone affords.

The evenings, once filled with shared dinners and conversations, now become a time for reflection. There’s a beauty in watching the sun set and the stars emerge in the sky, knowing that your time is entirely your own. It’s in these moments that you truly understand the value of solitude.

Ultimately, living alone is a journey of self-discovery. It’s about finding comfort in your own presence, embracing the silence, and understanding that you are enough. It’s a dance between the freedom to be yourself and the sometimes-daunting task of navigating life solo. But with each step, you become more attuned to your own rhythm, creating a life that’s uniquely and wonderfully yours

Look, don’t touch, the sign does say,
In this fragile world, we tread each day.
Delicate treasures, fine and rare,
Handle with care, if you dare.

In the gallery of life, we stroll,
Admiring beauty, heart and soul.
But heed the warning, clear and bright,
For some things break with the slightest might.

Lovely to see, exquisite to hold,
But if you break it, you pay for it, bold.
A moment’s lapse, a careless slip,
And the cost is yours, a heavy grip.

In the shop of dreams, we wander wide,
Tempted by wonders on every side.
Yet every step, a cautious dance,
For fragile things deserve a second glance.

The vase of hope, the glass of trust,
Handle them gently, for handle them you must.
A single crack, a tiny flaw,
Can shatter dreams, and leave us raw.

Look, don’t touch, the sign reminds,
In the museum of our minds.
For every heart, a fragile art,
A masterpiece, a work apart.

If you break it, you pay the price,
In the currency of sacrifice.
So tread with care, and hold with grace,
For fragile things leave a lasting trace.

In the end, we learn and grow,
From every touch, from every blow.
For life is fragile, yet so grand,
A delicate dance, hand in hand.

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.

In dreams, she floats on rivers made of light,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
A girl with eyes like kaleidoscopes,
She wanders through a land of cellophane flowers,
Where colours blend and dance in harmony.
The sun, a golden orb, smiles down on her,
As rocking horse people eat marshmallow pies.
She drifts past fields of towering blooms,
Their petals whispering secrets to the wind.
In this surreal world, time stands still,
And newspaper taxis wait by the shore,
To carry her to realms unknown and vast,
Where imagination reigns supreme and free.
Lucy, in the sky with diamonds bright,
A symbol of the wonder in our minds,
She guides us through the labyrinth of dreams,
Where every turn reveals a new delight.

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.

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.

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 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.

Quick reflexes spark,
Laughter echoes through the room,
Joy in swift surprise.

Quiet moments still,
Peaceful breaths in twilight’s glow,
Rest renews the soul.

In twenty-four, the streets aflame
a tempest brewed, a nation’s shame.
Southport’s wounds still fresh and raw,
three children lost their lives, a flaw.
False whispers spread through cyberspace,
the stabber’s name, a twisted chase.
Muslim, seeker, both or none
the spark ignited, chaos spun.
England, torn by fear and hate,
far-right voices, venom’s weight.
Riots surged from Southport’s core,
a wildfire leaping, burning more.
Arson’s dance, a crimson waltz,
shops looted, streets in tumult’s pulse.
Police van torched, officers besieged,
a fractured nation, wounds unseized.
Islamophobia’s venom seeped,
racist fervour, hatred steeped.
Disinformation’s murky tide,
Russia’s whispers amplified.
Yet amidst the flames, a counterforce—
Stand Up to Racism, voices hoarse.
Anti-fascists, Muslims, too,
clashed with rioters, hearts askew.
In this fractured hour, we seek the light,
to mend the rifts, reclaim the night.
For England’s soul, a plea resounds:
heal the wounds, find common grounds.
I stand against the darkness,
where prejudice and anger collide.
My words, a beacon of empathy,
a bridge across the chasm wide.
For love knows no division,
no borders drawn by fear.
In unity, we find strength,
and hate dissolves when love is near.
So let us rise above the chaos,
embrace compassion’s flame.
Together, we’ll extinguish hate
and heal the wounds that bear our name.

At the start of the seventies, a spark ignites,
From Newcastle’s heart, a band takes flight.
Roxy Music, a name whispered in the wind,
With Bryan Ferry’s voice, where dreams begin.

A tapestry of sound, that’s woven with care,
Glam rock’s pioneers, they’re beyond compare.
Synthesizers hum, guitars wail and cry,
In their melodies, the stars align.

Andy Mackay’s sax, a soulful breeze,
Phil Manzanera’s strings, a symphony with ease.
Paul Thompson’s drums, a heartbeat strong,
Together they create a timeless song.

From “Virginia Plain” to “Avalon”’s grace,
Each album a journey, a new embrace.
Brian Eno’s touch, an avant-garde flair,
In Roxy’s world, there’s magic in the air.

Their style, a blend of chic and bold,
Glamour and art, a story told.
In sequins and suits, they take the stage,
A visual feast, a gilded age.

“More Than This,” a whisper in the night,
“Love Is the Drug,” a lover’s delight.
Their music, a canvas, painted with care,
Each note a brushstroke, vibrant and rare.

Through decades they journey, a legacy grand,
Influencing many, a guiding hand.
From punk’s raw edge to new wave’s beat,
Roxy Music’s echo, a rhythm sweet.

In the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame they stand,
A testament to a visionary band.
Their songs, a soundtrack to life’s parade,
In every heart, their mark is made.

So here’s to Roxy Music, legends true,
With every chord, they renew.
A symphony of art, a timeless muse,
In their melodies, we find our cues.