Somewhere On The Edge

The feeling's thick, and all around,

A tangible delight,

Yet evasive, on the edge of real,

Always just out of sight.

I feel it there, around my mind,

A whisper in my soul,

The greatest power ever felt,

With a carefully vague role.

Mostly, my superficial life,

Blows this feeling far away,

Masking it with detritus,

Of day by trudging day.

But occasionally, a trigger clicks,

And the forces are aligned,

Emotion unlocks phantom gates,

And I'm close to what I'd find.

No longer can it hide from me,

I'll turn from where I stand,

And see it plain and open,

And grasp it in my hand.

That moment has not yet arrived,

And perhaps it never will,

So the shadows and their power,

Are long and cast here still.

Grasp The Nettle

Whether we were dragging wood from ditches,
Or sat quietly playing chess,
The times spent with my Grandad,
Are fond memories I possess.

Who else would wrestle a live goat,
Build a swing against a tree,
Take the phrase 'Grasp the Nettle',
And apply it, literally?!

There was always much to learn from him,
Farming tales from yesteryear,
His experience of different times,
Made the past vivid and clear.

And when visiting his garden,
His enthusiasm showed,
As he’d explain what he had planted,
In carefully marked rows.

A moral man; a simple life, perhaps,
Yet there was always time to laugh,
High summer, centre of a field,
He emerged from a tin bath!

So although I can’t now speak with him,
And all these times are in the past,
So much of him remains with me,
And these memories will last.

Composed July 2011