As the warm days of summer give way to chill, and shadows grow longer as days shed their hours.
High winds and rain storms scrub the tired landscape down.
Colours are changing from rich green to gold, from yellow to red and orange to brown.

The grain has been gathered, wheat, barley and oats, cut and collected, sifted and sorted and put into store.
Grown by God, and by man with machine and by effort of hand.
Poppies and stalks now mark the spot, of the return for their labour. The wealth of the land.

Birds follow the tractor, rising and falling, swirling and soaring they move like a cloud.
The farmer is out and turning the stubble into the ground.
Rooks and crows, gulls and wood pigeons, starlings and magpies follow him round.

Hay long since mown is now bailed and in barns, or rolled up and bagged, ferments now in high silage towers.
The countryside has yielded reward for all Adam’s toil.
Work done in rhythm with the seasons, sowing, growing, reaping, ploughing and tilling the soil.

Gathering goodness, from garden, and greenhouse, carrots and courgettes, tomatoes in bunches.
Fresher than any you can get in the shops.
Picking the bounty gleaned from the hedgerow. Rosehips and cobnuts, damsons and hops.

Elder and sorrel, mushrooms and puffballs, sour green crab apples, and brambles in tangles.
Sloes that were missed by the late winter frost.
Not all are pleasant and some really can hurt you, pick only those that you know and trust.

Take full advantage of God’s generosity, share it with gladness, with thanks, there is plenty for all.
Sticky syrups and cider, wines, cordial and beer.
Pies, puddings, sorbets and ice creams, jam, jelly, and chutney and enough pickles to last into next year.

As the warm days of summer give way to chill, and shadows grow longer as days shed their hours.
High winds and rain storms scrub the tired landscape down.
Colours are changing from rich green to gold, from yellow to red and orange to brown.

Were I to have a queen,
I would adorn her
lavishly,
South African Diamonds
littered with Brazilian Emerald
and Oriental Topaz,
but I don’t, so I give her
onyx and garnets –
Were I to have a queen
She would dine, exquisitely
Caviar and Champaign
Filet Mignon with delicate wild sprigs
Hand-crafted sorbets sprinkled with fresh ground cocoa
but that is not the case,
so we eat frozen burritos and fruity pebbles –
Were I to have a queen
her fines would be worldly
Chinese silks and English cobbled shoes
flowing lace with ruffled fringe
cotton and satin depending on conditions
but I am just a regular guy
and offer flannel and polyester blends –
Were I to have a queen
she would never want for attention
I would constantly remind her of her beauty and grace
express endlessly my undying love and adoration
offer my hand at each puddle and open every door
but I do not have a queen,
I have a wife that I treat this way –

I found true love,
not in another heartbeat

But in the way the stars and moon contrast against the midnight sky

the smell of pine trees and damp dirt
On a rainy day

The sound of birds chirping in the early morning

The way the waves of the ocean reflect the light of the stars on a lonely night

The crows on the telephone lines
Because although they are plain
There are times when less is more
And there's beauty in simplicity

The setting sun,
Because the swirling pinks, oranges, purples and yellows
Remind you of a sorbet,
And sorbets remind you of the times when you used to go out as a family for ice cream

The late night car rides with people you no longer know
But it doesn't matter because everyone's laughing and smiling,
And at that moment everything feels right
All troubles and worries exhaled with the smoke
And nobody cares if they died tonight

The silence at two in the morning when everything is still,
And you're dancing in the middle of the empty road
Because the night is yours and for the first time,
in a long time
You don't want to die

I found true love,
Not in another heartbeat
But in the idea,
That there is more
to this life.

Eyes closed thoughts far and suddenly a smile….
Strawberry Almond Cream ****
That's what I always imagine your lips would taste like
Chocolate Sorbets with scented blueberry dip
This is the taste of your skin in my head
Oh your body, oh your body, oh your body
But an ocean filled with so many mysteries
Who am I not to explore and discover the treasures within?
Drips of Irish Cream on the rocks
Dripping on your navel down to your golden throne
My lips darting after it nice and slow, for I dare not let a drop slip away
The thoughts of your moans making songs so beautiful
Why keep them hidden from both our ears and sense
Bodies ravaging in desire with defiance and no boundaries
For so long we would have no idea where we are
Let me ask you? would tonight be our night???
Let me make a woman of you the way a real man should.

As I embark on my bucket-list travels,

There is something I wish to unravel,

To see my skills at penning poetry,

Over which currently I have no mastery



My family kept goading me,

To shed my lethargy,

And make a beginning,

Which in hindsight, was a self- awakening



It was on a fine morning in sunny Spain,

That I decided to make some meaningful gains,

In penning my first few lines,

Without allowing my mind to work overtime



While walking down the streets of Seville,

You see people wanting to do what they will,

It's a wonderful feeling of being stress-free,

Which makes me think "is this what life is meant to be"?



The street restaurants are a gourmets' delight,

That's  sheer heavenly bliss in every bite,

The menu variety is the joy of any epicurean,

And the task to choose makes it no less Herculean



Street cafes abound in no small measure,

With people flocking in droves to seek hedonistic pleasure,

The wining and dining carry on past midnight,

And makes you wonder whether the end is ever in sight



Beating the heat with a cool retreat,

Are ice creams and sorbets in an array of treats,

The flavors on display makes one spoilt for choice,

But once decided, it is a matter to rejoice



The popular flea market on Sundays,

Is a rarity not seen everyday,

Hawkers displaying their unique wares,

A sight not beholden everywhere



The ornamental antiques,

Embrace the mystique,

To the ardent art lovers' gazing eye,

There is so much stuff that money can buy



To the connoisseur philatelist,

There were no stamps that did not exist,

To the persevering numismatist,

The jingle of coins was a means to co-exist,

The rustle of currency, an erstwhile pleasure to the notaphilists,  

Such a variety of notes no longer exists



Amazing to listen to the ceaseless chatter,

The noisy banter, little did it matter,

Price haggling was no laughing matter,

Achieving the end result was all that did matter



The Triana sector famous for its ceramic ware,

Artistic glazed tiles, pottery and curios discerned just about everywhere,

Such is the craftsmanship excelling in intricate designs,

The wide variety on display just blows away your mind



Meandering through streets and alleys was a pleasure,

Whilst enjoying the local traditions in no small measure,

The staccato Spanish chatter of passers by,

Was a joy to listen- an unique experience that money can't buy



The number of cathedrals was definitely aplenty,

Each with a history extending to posterity,

The majestic domes and sprawling structures,

Bore  ample testimony to ancient and contemporary cultures



The  numerous horse carriages sauntering on the cobblestone paths,

Were a sight to behold with their inimitable trot,

The tourists and locals alike beamed as they rode by,

Responding to the constant cheers of passers-by



As the day dawned on our leaving Seville,

It was more out of compulsion than our own free will,

That with a heavy heart we had to bid adieu,

Knowing fully well that such a feeling was not anew

Granada is a town that holds quite well its very own,
With an unique culture blend that is difficult to disown,
There is the confluence of diverse religions,
Which frankly, is nothing short of legion

Christianity and Islam pervade all aspects of daily life,
In shops, monuments and restaurants with hardly any strife,
It always feels good to see such diversity,
All the more so when there is unmistakable unity

The up and down alleys are a countless maze,
That can leave visitors in a state of daze,
There is little possibility however of losing track,
Since there is rarely ever a cul-de-sac

Restaurants and street cafes are just about everywhere,
All one needs to know is how to get there,
The variety of cuisine is as diverse as it can be,
That one just needs to ask "what will it be"?

Flamenco performers strut their talent at the wayside,
With enthusiastic onlookers egging them on side by side,
The foot tapping rhythm is pure joy to listen,
Through hours of practice, drawn from inspiration within

Crowds gather at the square for a glimpse of the sunset view,
Grabbing vantage spots for the breathtaking view,
The endless clicking of photos is inevitable as it would seem,
For those who skip it, it would probably remain in their dreams

Ice creams and sorbets come in a multitude of flavors,
Making a choice is never without a waiver,
People of all ages love savoring the cool taste,
From morning till late night, there is rarely any haste

Driving through 15 feet narrow alleys would appear to require special skills,
Not so to the locals who probably deem it a routine daily drill,
Peugeots, Renaults, Skodas and Benz can all be seen at play,
Hey, this is Europe - hence there is little surprise at the wide array!

From Granada to Cordoba is the next lap of our travel,
Wonder what mystique it is likely to unravel,
Thus far it has been totally exhilarating,
So look forward to some more poetic commentating

Un pavillon à claires-voies
Abrite doucement nos joies
Qu'éventent des rosiers amis ;

L'odeur des roses, faible, grâce
Au vent léger d'été qui passe,
Se mêle aux parfums qu'elle a mis ;

Comme ses yeux l'avaient promis,
Son courage est grand et sa lèvre
Communique une exquise fièvre ;

Et l'Amour comblant tout, hormis
La Faim, sorbets et confitures
Nous préservent des courbatures.

As I embark on my bucket-list travels,

There is something I wish to unravel,

To see my skills at penning poetry,

Over which currently I have no mastery



My family kept goading me,

To shed my lethargy,

And make a beginning,

Which in hindsight, was a self- awakening



It was on a fine morning in sunny Spain,

That I decided to make some meaningful gains,

In penning my first few lines,

Without allowing my mind to work overtime



While walking down the streets of Seville,

You see people wanting to do what they will,

It's a wonderful feeling of being stress-free,

Which makes me think "is this what life is meant to be"?



The street restaurants are a gourmets' delight,

That's  sheer heavenly bliss in every bite,

The menu variety is the joy of any epicurean,

And the task to choose makes it no less Herculean



Street cafes abound in no small measure,

With people flocking in droves to seek hedonistic pleasure,

The wining and dining carry on past midnight,

And makes you wonder whether the end is ever in sight



Beating the heat with a cool retreat,

Are ice creams and sorbets in an array of treats,

The flavors on display makes one spoilt for choice,

But once decided, it is a matter to rejoice



The popular flea market on Sundays,

Is a rarity not seen everyday,

Hawkers displaying their unique wares,

A sight not beholden everywhere



The ornamental antiques,

Embrace the mystique,

To the ardent art lovers' gazing eye,

There is so much stuff that money can buy



To the connoisseur philatelist,

There were no stamps that did not exist,

To the persevering numismatist,

The jingle of coins was a means to co-exist,

The rustle of currency, an erstwhile pleasure to the notaphilists,  

Such a variety of notes no longer exists



Amazing to listen to the ceaseless chatter,

The noisy banter, little did it matter,

Price haggling was no laughing matter,

Achieving the end result was all that did matter



The Triana sector famous for its ceramic ware,

Artistic glazed tiles, pottery and curios discerned just about everywhere,

Such is the craftsmanship excelling in intricate designs,

The wide variety on display just blows away your mind



Meandering through streets and alleys was a pleasure,

Whilst enjoying the local traditions in no small measure,

The staccato Spanish chatter of passers by,

Was a joy to listen- an unique experience that money can't buy



The number of cathedrals was definitely aplenty,

Each with a history extending to posterity,

The majestic domes and sprawling structures,

Bore  ample testimony to ancient and contemporary cultures



The  numerous horse carriages sauntering on the cobblestone paths,

Were a sight to behold with their inimitable trot,

The tourists and locals alike beamed as they rode by,

Responding to the constant cheers of passers-by



As the day dawned on our leaving Seville,

It was more out of compulsion than our own free will,

That with a heavy heart we had to bid adieu,

Knowing fully well that such a feeling was not anew

Dans le bain, sur les dalles,

À mon pied négligent

J'aime à voir des sandales

De cuir jaune et d'argent.

En quittant ma baignoire,

Il me plaît qu'une noire

Fasse mordre à l'ivoire

Mes cheveux, manteau brun,

Et, versant l'eau de rose

Sur mon sein qu'elle arrose,

Comme l'aube et la rose,

Mêle perle et parfum.


J'aime aussi l'odeur fine

De la fleur des Houris,

Sur un plat de la Chine

Des sorbets d'ambre gris,

L'*****, ciel liquide,

Poison doux et perfide,

Qui remplit l'âme vide

D'un bonheur étoilé ;

Et, sur l'eau qui réplique,

Un doux bruit de musique

S'échappant d'un caïque

De falots constellé.


J'aime un fez écarlate

De sequins bruissant,

Où partout l'or éclate,

Où reluit le croissant.

L'arbre en fleur où se pose

L'oiseau cher à la rose,

La fontaine où l'eau cause,

Tout me plaît tour à tour ;

Mais, au ciel et sur terre,

Le trésor que préfère

Mon cœur jeune et sincère,

C'est amour pour amour !