A Lie In The Woods

An island in amongst the trees,
Remains unruffled by the breeze,
As forest creatures shuffle by,

Not one catches anothers eye,
For fear is rife amongst the woods,
Where open hearts are damaged goods,
And thoughts and feelings given wings,
Are not pleasant or spoken things.
Life turns against the path of time,
And seeks to coat the trunks in grime,
So that the bark cannot be touched,
And branches withered, tightly clutched,
Won't rally round at plaintive cries,
That burn brightly from lustful eyes,
Kept bound up safe and free of fear,
Or so it seems when not so near.
A glance inside reveals the truth,
The rot beneath the woodland roof,
Caused by the worship of a lie,
That curses all to slowly die.

Borderlands

Bright skies of black and white are whipped,

By winds that gust and never cease,

Shadows stalk across the fields,

The heads of wheat are not at peace.

Flat land stretches featureless,

Out to where the earth may end,

No heights to see what may approach,

No fortress to defend.

The only break in this bleak land,

Is a windmill old and battered,

With sails long since torn away,

And glassless windows shattered.

By the door there sits a man,

Face weathered by long days,

Who surveys all the land around,

With a tired, steady gaze.

He expects an altercation,

Out here on this stricken land,

Far away from anywhere,

He's prepared to make a stand.

It's his belief that come the night,

That evil will appear,

He can't express its shape or form,

Or hide his naked fear.

A candle is his only tool,

To keep the night at bay,

And as the twilight settles in,

He hopes for one more day.

Composed 25/07/2013

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

God, We’re In Trouble

‘Creation, in it’s basic form,’

Said one god to the next,

‘Is making new things happen,

And leaving folk perplexed,

As to the rhyme and reason,

Why all this should be so,

When in all actuality,

They’ll never ever know’.

‘I disagree’ said the next god,

‘It’s more subtle than that,

When people start to notice,

It makes you look a prat,

You must instead endeavour,

To deflect the futures path,

Without anybody noticing,

While you sit back and laugh!’

‘Now come my boys,’ said Mother Earth,

‘I’ll be having none of this,

I put up with these humans,

And it frankly takes the piss.

They pillage all my riches,

And they hurt me to the core,

Anything you care to do,

Doesn’t matter any more’.

Two gods stared at Mother Earth,

As she began to blub,

Tears filling her oceans,

The gods went down the pub.

And in the pub the barkeep served,

Those gods stayed up all night,

Talking about creation,

As the Earth went out of sight.

Devotion

Death to all that challenge,
The master of the town!
Death to those poor substitutes,
Who try to take his crown!
They shall be disposed of,
By the master in his way,
Maybe slain late at night,
Or run through during day.
None shall take his glory,
None shall steal his pride,
Others may have tried before,
All those others died.
The master is the leader,
Of all that’s good and true,
He makes the sun shine yellow,
He makes the water blue.
The master is our saviour,
Without him we are lost,
We will protect our master,
No matter what the cost.
We will be the last to stand,
And face the evil hordes,
Repelling all invasion,
In the name of our great lord.
Chimeras may be evil,
Dragons may be large,
We’ll fight until we drop because,
The master is in charge.
If we all die and he might live,
We are bound to give our all,
Our lives for this great master?
It presents no choice at all.

The Shepherds Job

The shepherds day is long and hard,
But his night is even worse,
At times his lives complexity,
Seems like a whispered curse.
Sometimes he can't do anything,
And the lamb simply must die,
Another of the shepherds flock,
Consigned to the black sky.
But at other times he can assist,
And find the injured one,
Heal it's hurt, reveal once more,
The brightly shining sun.
The lamb is free to go again,
The shepherd moves away,
Watching his herd roam around,
Their happiness his day.