BARAKA-BASHAD. 1983

Baraka-Bashad,  may the Blessings be,

A life force throughout Eternity.

Renewing forces of Dynamic Love,

Given to Mankind from Him above.

A gift of Psychic Potential Drive,

That Man's cosmic soul shall survive.

We are a part of Infinite whole.

Toiling together towards that great goal.

One Life, One thousand, Who can say,

All are waiting for this embryonic day.

So let that shine of Heavenly Blue,

Regenerate strength once more anew.

For Life's forces are not yet spent,

Perhaps another tunnel before you relent.

One day we know with all our heart,

That we, from Earth's ties, must part.

To live in peace with the universe,

Never again life's bitterness to curse.

We've played many a role on this life's stage,

Reincarnating into every age.

Cosmic force our debts are not yet paid,

The yearnings in birth, a thousand times remade.

Let there be an end to our dire need,

Don't let us, forevermore plead.

Is not our place in that eternal college,

A tiny mote in your great knowledge.

A process of learning in the university of life.

Perhaps finished, with this our last strife.

Baraka-Bashad, MAY THE BLESSINGS BE,

A LIFE FORCE, throughout Eternity.

TABLETS AND LOTIONS. 1985

I've got Pills and Tablets, Lotions and Potions,

Some are used to calm the emotions.

The colours are lovely, All beautiful and bright,

I take a few in the morning others at night.

There are Red and Yellow, Green and Blue,

I've got so many, I could give some to you.

The ones I take to make me sleep,

Make my pupils small and deep.

Some you know are for my head,

After taking these I wish I was dead.

Then I have some just for my nerves,

These make straight lines look like curves.

The one's I like the best of all,

Make all of my problems seem so small.

The tiny Green ones are not too bad,

If only they didn't make me feel so sad.

I'm pleased I don't work in a Chemists shop,

For I think that my Tummy would go off pop.

Now if you will take some advice from me,

Don't take tablets, Drink a cup of TEA.

TELEPHONE. Dec 1978

Here I sit and stare, all day,

I wish they'd come and take you away.

You sometimes drive me up the wall,

As I wait hopefully for a call.

Will some-one ring me up tonight,

My nerves are twitching really tight.

Just a few words Like Hello Bern,

To hear your Voices, I really yearn.

The wires on my telephone,

Go round the World to your home.

So give me a tinkle, Please do,

And I will say Hello to you.

I'll tell you the news if I may,

And listen carefully to what you say.

So come on Phone wont you ring,

You stupid, silly, useless thing.

TELEVISION.

You know I sometimes wish I could,

Get in that glass screen surrounded by wood.

I'd change the programs one by one,

No more terror or murder with gun.

Political corruption would be no more,

With Speculators robbing the weak and poor.

This world of ours I would fill with joy,

A brand new start for every girl and boy

Mother Nature would bloom anew,

All mankind's dreams would come true.

With Birds and Beasts, Flowers and Trees,

With no more Poisons on every breeze.

The waters in each river and stream,

Would be pure and clear like in my dream.

Yes all the programs on my TV,

Would be specially made for you and me.

I'd teach the Children to love and care,

The Grown-ups how to help and share.

Each job of work that has to be done,

Shall be shared by everyone.

There'll be no more rich and no more poor,

On my Television and that's for sure.

CRYSTAL BALL.

While gazing in my crystal ball,

Suddenly I began to fall.

My whole world went round and round,

Are my feet still on the ground?

Thank God at last it has stopped,

The last few feet I slowly drop.

Now I am in a big glass ball,

What is the meaning of it all.

All is misty or so it seems,

A new adventure, One of my dreams.

I see the future I see the past,

There's no reality it cannot last.

The world below me is a lovely blue,

But no-one to believe my story is true.

No more human alive on earth,

All is quiet! awaiting new birth.

What a shock, Did You me call?

Now I'm sitting before my crystal ball.

I am awake, but my head's not clear,

It's the end of the World, BUT-WHAT-YEAR.

GOLD.

At the bottom of a Rainbow, So I'm told,

If I look carefully, I will find some Gold.

I am a little disconcerted as my poem will show,

For each Rainbow that I come to, moves away you know.

And the closer that I get to the promised treasure,

Other things that I see give me more pleasure.

Like tiny drops of rain on leaf and flower,

Or the sweet smells, I smell after a shower.

The song of a Bird high in a tree,

Is a fascinating reward for a man like me.

A thought has come to me it is very profound,

Who has so much gold to bury in the ground.

But the birds in the trees and the drops of rain,

These common treasures, they come again and again.

So I will look for a rainbow high in the sky,

But for buried Gold in the ground, not a tear will I cry.

PARENTS.

Parents are you both so blind,

That childish being is but yours to mind.

Give care, give love, give guidance well,

For that baby of man, is but a shell.

Deep within lies a Godly love,

Entrusted to you by Him above.

Such eyes of innocence, shining bright,

Those tiny hands that hold you tight.

Yes that is your own flesh and blood,

So let love flow lie a rushing flood.

A childhood composed of loving Joys,

Kindness and compassion, shall be its toys.

Parents heed my words of warning,

The awareness of your child is dawning.

What reports of you will it give above,

When it is called by that Heavenly love.

Will it say that you were blind,

Or were you of that loving kind.

THE MAN WITH THE SCYTHE.

It's not time, Oh man of bone,

For you to come for me.

Whet your scythe with sharpening stone,

But go and let me be.

I told you once long years ago,

That I don't belong to you.

I have not changed my mind you know,

For this I will never do.

So steal away you man of bone,

Don't knock upon my door.

I have a will of granite stone,

With me you cannot score.

The pact I made with him on high,

Was for three score years and ten.

When that time is drawing nigh,

You can come for me then.

You cannot know, oh man of bone,

That life can be so sweet.

So go on your way, and go alone.

Until it is time for us to meet.

When you come with scythe so sharp,

Be quick to do your work.

Don't let me linger, I won't carp,

Or act like one berserk.

As I have lived, so will I die,

Stubborn like a mule.

And when you take me up on high,

I will call you a bloody fool.

REINCARNATION.

Three score years and ten I've seen,

From suckling babe hard to wean.

Infant small with tottering walk.

From my mother I learned to talk.

Then boisterous child, hard to hold,

Parents had to sometimes scold.

School days where I had to learn,

For the teenage I did yearn.

Then adulthood with all its cares,

A loving wife, my life to share.

Now I've outlived my stay,

I am coming to the end of my day.

One more breath maybe two,

Where my love I'll think of you.

Then the journey into the unknown,

Oh! how this life of mine has flown.

Up, Up, into that great light,

That shines on me so wondrous bright.

Here refreshment shall be mine,

I'll stay a while in the light that shines.

For later when my time shall come,

To this earth I will return as one.

Whose fulfilment on this earthly plane,

Must surely start all over again.

Through the tunnel into life,

Once again that weary strife.

Oh cosmic force, eternal be,

Let me again return to thee.

For many are the lives I've seen,

From Beggar man to royal Queen.

STRANGERS.

Some are black and some are white,

Others are in between.

There are red and yellow, dark and light,

Many we have never seen.

From all five continents they gather here,

With speech as strange as can be.

Their habits and customs, to us seem queer,

But are they so different, to you and me.

Forget for a while, hide your fears,

For they to belong to the human race.

Give a big smile, shed no tears,

Bid them welcome to your place.

Some are heathen, some religious,

Others with no beliefs at all.

There are the lazy and the prodigious,

Some we don't like as I recall.

Say it loud, say it clear,

That stranger could have been me.

Born in a land cherished and dear,

At least I was born to be free.

In other lands so far or near,

These strangers were also at Home.

Forced to leave by deadly fear,

Outcasts this world to roam.

Once more fellow man, show love and care,

Let welcome be your guide.

That that stranger to you, may also share,

The blessing that are your pride.

Perhaps you yourself in some distant land,

If this my poem comes true.

Will be welcomed with a love so grand,

That friendships will blossom anew.

THE HERMIT.

As he sits a pondering there,

With shining eyes and snow white hair.

What is going through his mind,

Is he thinking of mankind.

Or are thoughts of heaven his,

With manna, harps and heavenly bliss.

Has he found the truths of old,

That can't be weighed with pots of gold.

Is it nature that he fears,

As he sits there through the years.

Is he tired of earthly things,

With it's traps and deadly stings.

That place of his is vacant now,

Did he sit there for a vow,

If I take his place maybe,

Some of the answers will come to me.

So if you see me sitting there,

With shining eyes and snow white hair.

Don't ask yourself, what does he see,

Perhaps you are the one to replace me.

OLD WITCH.

A potion for love, or your midday stew,

Now then old Witch, What do you brew.

Are the ingredients, costly and rare,

What ! just an onion, with meat of a hare.

Not something mysterious from an ancient book,

Only the noon day meal that you cook.

Weird chants and murmurs to make one fear,

Or do you talk to yourself, is that what I hear.

What creature is that sitting in your chair,

Impatiently waiting your meal to share.

Foul fiend, conjured up from out of hells fire,

Or a friendly black cat, with hungry desire.

Toad-stools, poison ivy, mistle from the wood,

Making herbal remedies for mankind's good.

That broom in the corner is it to sweep,

Or a means to fly, Witches covens to keep.

Are you a lonely old woman without any friends,

Just animals and birds that sweet nature sends.

You know that fear, greed and hate do require,

Another innocent victim to feed to the fire.

And you with your healing powers will do,

For your loneliness is known but to just a few.

WHY.

Why have you taken my clothes away?

Can't I go out at all today?

The Sun is shining, the Birds are singing,

At the Church nearby the bells are ringing.

So why must I stay at home?

When there is all the World to roam.

I only need my pants and vest,

perhaps a shirt to cover my chest.

Then I can go jogging with the boys,

And share the other Children's joys.

It's no fun lying in bed,

Waiting for the Doctor to shake his head.

Please give me my clothes, Mummy do,

I want to run and walk like you.

The strange things you grown ups say,

Make me want to run away.

Now what do you mean by TBC,

Is this something just for me?

I'm losing weight and wasting away,

Getting thinner every day.

We need a miracle the Doctor said,

To get him up from out of that bed.

The Vicar has come to say some prayers,

I Hear him wheezing up the stairs.

Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,

Look upon this little child.

That's the last I heard him say,

The angels have come to take me away.

Goodbye Mummy and Daddy too,

I'll be waiting up in Heaven for you.

CONSCIENCE.

All my life, I've listened to you,

Why don't you leave me be.

You cannot tell me anything new,

That must be plain to see.

As a child I learned the rule,

I've always done my best.

Don't treat me like a fool,

For I'm no better that the rest.

The mistakes I made, were my own,

I make no other claim.

The wild oats that I've sewn,

Need no special name.

When my maker I go to meet,

I'll lay myself at his feet.

And he will surely see,

I'm the one that always said,

Why don't you let me be.

MASTER BUILDER.

Master Builder, Take great pains indeed,

Use materials of love for we do bleed.

Cement your joints and bonds with care,

With strength and joy for all to share.

Each brick of mercy, Placed one by one,

As true examples by your son.

The cellar built on the rock of love,

With roof of happiness high above.

The names of each floor in between,

Shall hold your praises in esteem.

There shall be but one door,

This shall serve both rich and poor.

Windows of patience, Glazed with hope,

Eyes that see have no need to grope.

Ceilings and walls built of prayers,

As will be hallway, bedrooms and stairs.

Many are the rooms in this mansion of yours,

For each denomination, thousands of floors.

Christians, Buddhists, Moslems and Jews,

All have been told of this wonderful news.

Please Master Builder, In your Heaven up above,

Reserve a place for me, In this house full of love.

Books.

Over a hundred books are upon my shelves,

I don't read them , Do they read themselves?

Are they filled with knowledgeable things,

Or like the birds, Do they have wings?

One day very soon, I'll have a look to see,

If I look long enough perhaps I'll find one for me.

Or shall I leave them for others to read,

I dare not open one it will probably bleed.

A big black book with letters of copperplate,

Invites me to read it before it is too late.

Small and thin a book of verse,

Looks so fragile shall I call a nurse.

Adventure I am sure from cover to cover,

With Heroine fighting to save her lover.

A very thick tomb a history book,

Will I become wiser if I take a look.

One very large book it is an Atlas I know,

Dominates the others tries to steal the show.

A Cowboy story from the wild West,

If I read it will I catch the pest.

Or science fiction lost in outer space,

With me as Hero to save the Human race.

Yes I have a hundred books, that is for sure,

In the Public Library there are thousands more.

All of my books I will order into classes.

I don't think that I will read them for I have lost my glasses.

Children's Voices.

The sweet singing of Children's voices,

Bring back memories of tender years.

How this heart of mine rejoices,

As I wipe away the springing tears.

Tears of happiness, Tears of joy,

Touching the chords of memories old.

A picture sweet of a long lost toy,

Filling my days with rays of gold.

Let the Children sing tomorrow,

Songs of pleasure pass the day.

That they may ease my sorrow,

As I go on life's lonely way.

Ponder.

Here I sit and ponder,

What is over yonder.

Shall I go and look,

Or stay here with my book.

My book is full of knowledge,

It will help me in life's college.

But what is over yonder,

I just wrack my brain and ponder.

I think I am going crazy,

But to get up I'm too lazy.

I will stay here with my book,

And let the others look.

To Pass The Time Away.

I have found a way to pass the time the time of day,

The idea came to me while lying in a hospital bed.

Think of all the things you have wanted to say,

Let your thoughts be about that what you have said.

Then close your eyes let peace fill your mind,

What you have said does not matter a jot.

But that what you in future might say or do,

That is important and will help you a lot.

Let the past be the past, the future is yours,

I cannot tell you more than that.

So go and open all of those waiting doors,

Then come to me for a cosy chat.

Secrets.

Secrets are secrets not to be told,

Button your lips up tight.

Man may tempt you aye with gold,

But secrets are not for the sight.

Thoughts.

Sitting and thinking of thoughts gone past,

Perhaps of things to come.

For time is surely going fast,

My thoughts are on the run.

Fine as a cobweb, sprinkled with dew,

Fragments of dreams bubble high.

Memories mingle, think them through,

With here and there a sigh,

May your thoughts bring pleasure,

Happiness be yours this day.

Your body completely at leisure,

To help you on life's way.

No Pity Please.

I was walking along feeling fairly well,

My aches and pains forgotten, I had sent them to hell.

Then some-one I met said, Isn't it a pity,

He was once athletic and very witty.

With my walking stick clutched tight in my hand.

I wished him Good Day, My isn't life grand.

When he's gone by, I feel quite mad,

I want no pity it makes me feel sad.

To fight this last fight is my own affair,

I do not want others my plight to share.

So the next time that I'm on the way,

Just smile or nod and wish me good day.

Only those two words, I want to hear,

They will help, not pity but a feeling of cheer.

Sleep.

Just one night of blissful sleep.

No more hours of counting sheep.

Let me sink down into that pillow of mine.

To close my eyes would be divine.

I have tried most remedies to doze off.

When I think that I am successful, I have to cough.

Insomnia is a most terrible complaint.

It would try the nerves of some blessed Saint.

No more drinks after five o'clock,

Television forbidden, no more shock.

A blessing just to drop off to sleep.

I wish that I had never seen those sheep.

Speed of Light.

While travelling at the speed of light,

Passengers and crew see a most beautiful sight.

Suns, Moons and comets rushing by,

Causing many an astronaut to sigh.

My wish is to be among the elite

Taking part in this great Feat.

Starting off as Cabin Boy,

Rising to Captain much to my joy.

Photon engines surging with power,

Pushing on the ship hour by hour.

What are we doing here in space,

Looking for Aliens or some strange race.

Mankind's old dream come true at last.

As suns and moons go rushing past.

Come let us all join in the quest.

The first to greet that Alien Guest.

Ode to Depression

Am I to be damned to eternal gloom,

For my soul will there be no room.

Will my depressions ever rise,

To carry me to the waiting skies.

To look below and see the Earth,

No binding straps but joyful mirth.

Will I ever be free from deathly lows,

I surely will not suffer blows.

My nature is of the sunny kind,

A broken body yet a healthy mind.

Free me from my dismal face,

Lead me to that heavenly grace.

Lift my depressive thoughts from me,

Open my heart that I may see,

The powerful love that awaits for me.

New Year Resolutions.

This year has hurried along much too fast,

I toasted the new year in with Champagne.

My thoughts in the future I try to cast,

As this year comes to an end once again.

Resolutions I have made one after the other,

A few for each year that has gone by.

This year I will bring a few from undercover,

Will I keep them? at least I will try.

No one knows the efforts that I make,

My resolutions are mainly too bold.

I find that there are too many chances to take,

And resolutions remind me that I am old.

One I will make for all of mankind,

to help them on their way through life.

One I have often on my struggling mind,

I resolve to keep peace no more strife.

I resolve to be more gentle and kind,

To fight my battles one by one in my sweet home.

For resolutions get harder to find,

And I have lost my want this world to roam.

My Last Will and Testament.

I bequeath to Mankind my love of freedom, Freedom for all.

My Love for Mankind, no matter what race, colour or religious belief.

My sense of justice and fair play for young and old.

My feeling of happiness no matter what adversaries come your way.

My hopes for an everlasting peace for all of Mankind.

My trust in a cure for all illnesses that have or might befall the Human Race.

My belief in one eternal God for all no matter what beliefs they hold.

My trust that hunger and thirst will be abolished from this earth.

My blessings for all that are suffering both mental and physical illness that has yet to be cured.

My feeling that nature will become once more that what it once was, a blessing to mankind.

Lastly my wish for all of Mankind to be happy one with another.

Let us all work to achieve this goal then my life will not have been in vain.

Look to the Stars.

Raise up your head, look to the stars,

Regard the heavens with enquiring eyes.

Earth is alike to a prison without bars,

Our future lies in the brightening skies.

Be of good spirits let wisdom inspire,

Savants experiment to break these our bonds.

Let hopes rise higher and higher,

Our horizons must go far behind the beyond.

Mans old dream to conquer space,

Dormant inherent in every race.

Let us all converge on those heavenly spheres,

Away from Man's superstitious fears.

Am I Curious.

Here I sit and ponder,

What is over yonder.

Shall I go and look,

Or stay here with my book.

My book is full of knowledge,

It will help me in life's college.

But what is over yonder,

I just wrack my brain and ponder.

I think I am going crazy,

But to get up I'm too lazy.

I'll stay here with my book,

And let the others look.

A Prayer.

Help me live a life without sin.

Let me all my battles win.

Give me strength the law to obey.

Guide me on the way, The respectable way.

To show society that I am able,

My feet to place under any man's table.

I respect the laws man made laws.

With all their controversies, all their flaws.

A Citizen with a sense of duty.

To teach the children about worldly beauty.

Help Adults their problems to solve.

In keeping peace, fearless to involve.

To leave this World a better place.

That not one head will hang in disgrace.

I will know that my prayer is heard.

When my soul may fly like a bird.

Friendship.

It was just a sheet of paper out of an exercise book,

Until I started writing to see how it would look.

My pen wrote quickly as if with ghostly hand,

The poem that appeared was not so very grand.

It told not of love or of flowers so sweet,

Just about two people that by chance did happen to meet.

They spoke about their lives and the work that they did do,

It sounded rather commonplace like most chats, lively but true.

Families with children and the costs of living,

How they each celebrated at the last thanksgiving.

What presents they had bought for the wife and kids,

At the local auction where both had made their bids.

Then on to sport each had a favourite team,

They were kindred spirits each with their own dream.

A friendship developed between the unlikely pair,

They had so much in common yes each had a lot to share.

After making arrangements for their families to meet,

I very often see them as they walk down the street.

It was a true friendship I could see by the smiles,

You know for such a friendship, I would walk a hundred miles.

Poet?

I am not the greatest of Poets,

Not when I think of Shelley and Keats.

But I am the first to know it,

When I try with them to compete.

Or when I think of Wordsworth with his "Cloud Of Daffodils,"

He is the one that gives me the greatest of thrills.

Then there is Edgar Allen Poe, a really great poet you know.

To keep up with him I am much too slow.

Dylan Thomas is a famous poet indeed,

Some of his inspiration I would badly need.

Now George Bernard Shaw, Has a real claim to fame,

If I could write like him, It just would not be the same.

For I myself write in rhyming verse,

That does me somehow reimburse.

So I think that I will remain the same,

And lay no claim to fame,

Just a would be bard,

That finds writing very hard.

Cosmic Force.

Rays of cosmic force so bright,

Bathe me in your pure blue light.

Rid me of all earthly ties and bonds,

That hold me till my soul absconds.

Into that promised realm above,

Be again with those that shared my love.

Let me soar in that knowledge pure,

That here on earth seems so obscure.

Refresh my hopes in those ethereal surrounds,

Let me bask in a love that knows no bounds.

Guidance for my future life on earth,

Cosmic beams be at my next new birth.

Radiance shine on that tender soul,

Gently pushing to an earthly goal.

That I may help all of mankind

To untie those knots that ever bind.

Freedom from all want and care,

No more carnage for humans to share.

That rays of cosmic force so bright,

Bathe all of mankind in that pure blue light.

No Pockets in a Shroud.

A shroud has no pockets,

What use riches and wealth?

When our time comes to die,

There is no need to sigh.

For all the monetary gains,

Will bring nothing but pains.

Strive for health and happiness,

That and really nothing is the less.

For only that is worthwhile,

Bring love and a friendly smile.

Help all those that are weak,

For they need happiness to seek.

Look back at your good deeds,

How you helped others needs.

It is better to give to the poor,

Than to be loaded with wealth at heavens door.

Keep the children safe, show that you care,

With the poor and needy try your wealth to share.

Make a world of beauty that is worthwhile,

So that every face on earth will know how to smile.

Remember shrouds have no pockets there is nothing you can take,

That will open Heavens doors no not for riches sakes. .

Tears.

The wind whistled softly to my unwilling ears,

Down my cheeks flows a rush of gentle tears.

Once long ago another wind did blow,

There were no tears just my cheeks aglow.

I was young I had youth on my side,

It is easy youthful emotions to hide.

I rode the storms of threatening despair,

Perhaps in those far off times I just did not care.

Strength too was always at my call,

Nothing could upset me or bring me to a fall.

I took everything, but everything in my stride,

Was I just foolish or steeped in my own pride?

I was definitely not concerned with wealth,

Certainly gave no thought to my health.

I was just I as egoistic as can be,

I had no eyes for others; I did not want to see,

Those peoples, strangers had a need of me.

In the years that passed a mellowing set in,

I no longer took everything on my chin.

Deepest poverty many were the poor,

I turned away none that came knocking on my door.

My life had a purpose at long last,

Time had showed me that life is too fast.

To make reparations I gave to charity,

I had finally found the true the real me.

A new person had risen from the ashes of the old,

My heart is now warm, no more the deadly cold.

Now the winds may blow to my unwilling ear,

For I feel no shame as I gently shed a tear.

To Be or Not To Be.

To be or not to be, a much asked question,

Trying to answer gives me indigestion.

Shakespeare could not imagine that he would drive me insane,

As I try to answer this question again, and again, and again.

To be or not to be, I really wrack my brain,

It is you know similar to some old English refrain.

Asked in medieval English complicates it a lot,

I myself think that it is part of some insidious plot.

Many Scholars know not what it means,

When they read about Shakespeare's Kings and Queens.

A question such as this in the University of life,

Could cause much trouble, unnecessary strife.

What was his ulterior motive as wrote this very line,

To be or not to be was he full of table wine.

Where is the logic in this question I ask?

To try to answer it is a very complicated task.

I cannot ask the children they would not understand,

As I ponder on those words my brain turns to sand.

Mr. Shakespeare enlighten me if you please,

You have driven plenty of people down on to their knees.

To be or not to be that is here the question.

And you know it is still giving me indigestion.

Windows to the Soul.

I made some notes in my old poetry book,

In the hopes that someday, someone would take a look.

Real beauty comes from the eyes, the window to the soul,

A smiling face saturated with love this being my goal.

Hopes that stirred deep in my breast,

Would always help me to give only of my best.

To open my eyes that I may always see.

The tranquillity in all that surrounds me,

Flowers, trees, growing things of this earth,

especially in spring the time of new birth.

I listen to new sounds my ears opened wide,

From my soul there is nothing that nature can hide.

Wild snow drops, crocuses, daisies, violets sweet,

Lambs, calves, foals born for nature to meet.

Gentle spring rain and sunshine with rainbows my senses to delight,

Glowing bright stars and a silvery moon to please my very sight.

The cooing of doves, the twittering of cheeky sparrows,

Help me defy the mind in its unfathomable narrows.

New kittens and puppies to liven the day,

Children's happy laughter while deep in play.

Bringing hopes for the future in their own sweet way,

I greet them eagerly play as they may.

I am writing this down in my poetry book,

In the hopes someday it will be you that will look.

To see the real beauty that comes from the eyes the window to the soul,

That you my friend might also reach your goal.

My Verse.

I spend much time a writing of my verse,

Some say," It is a blessing, Other's it is a curse."

Words are tumbling around in my poor old head,

I get no peace not even when lying in my bed.

Words come, some stay, others I reject.

Some rhyme beautifully some are suspect.

Should I write of love? So tender and so sweet,

Or should I give in to temptation and write about my feet.

Then of course a powerful motive is the spring,

I can tell of the birds and the way that they sing.

I must not forget the autumn or its falling leaves,

Busy Farmers folk bringing in the sheaves.

I use an awful lot of paper not to mention ink.

Sometimes the World goes by as in my thoughts I sink.

I keep myself busy chasing all these words,

Rounding them up like cattle in their lowing herds.

Yes I spend much time a writing of my verse,

I will stay the way I am for things could be much worse.

An alcoholic or a person addicted to a drug,

Or even, 'God forbid,' a gangster or just another thug.

Chocolate.

For chocolate I crave,

With me it is all the rave.

When shopping I buy twelve fruit and nut,

This helps me when I get in to a rut.

I eat a piece in the morning,

When the first light is dawning.

After lunch a square or two,

That will see the afternoon through.

Through to the evening,

When all is quiet all serene,

My chocolate is there where it can be plainly seen.

Then at night chocolate I must eat,

For me a delicacy a real enjoyable treat.

Some might call me a chocolate addict,

Not that I really care.

Chocolate is not something to contradict,

With you I would gladly share.

Yes chocolate morning, noon, or night,

Is the thing that gives me great delight.

Paper and Pen.

Paper and a pen that is poised to write,

The time, it is in the middle of the night.

Inspiration flows down to my hand,

Perhaps a discharge from my pituitary gland.

Pictures flow through to my brain,

I discard them again, and again.

Something special, I sit and wait,

It is slow in coming and it is getting late.

On the horizon a shadow vague,

Perhaps I should write about the plague.

But no that has been done before,

After all I do not want to be a bore.

Shall I write about perpetual love?

Or about the Angels high up above?

I could write about impetuous youth,

Not now I'm afraid, I am too old in the tooth.

I have written before about spring flowers,

The way that I have spent many happy hours.

Perhaps I should just put my pen away,

And hope to write another day.

Great Nation.

Help ours to become a truly great Nation,

Each Citizen with an obligation.

Teach us to walk the one straight path,

To start each day with a refreshing laugh.

Be kind and gentle to the week,

In each person some goodness seek.

Never to turn the needy away,

Help the Children to be happy at play.

Courage and strength in the face of all odds,

An example given by the old Gods.

Knowing in life there are dangers to face,

That one cannot be first in every race.

Discretion outweighs the hasty action,

A gentle pull can beat the strongest traction.

Pass this message on to every generation,

So that ours can be a truly Great Nation.

Not Rich, Not Poor.

I am not rich I am not poor,

Sometimes I feel right sore.

Others have so many worldly goods,

Like land and houses, money and woods.

I really cannot grumble at my fate,

For at my side I have a wonderful mate.

So why should I feel so sore?

For I am not rich I am not poor.

True I do not have much wealth,

I am miserably poor in health.

I have to make do with what I own,

A lovely wife and a wonderful home.

Yes I am not rich I am not poor,

No real poverty is knocking on my door.

With riches I have nothing to do,

On each foot I have a shoe.

I am not rich I am not poor,

Many are worse off that is for sure.

At my table there is a free place,

Please come in and show your face.

For I am not rich I am not poor,

On thinking back I am not so sore.

Friends surround me at party time,

I share what I have it is no crime.

No I am not rich I am not poor,

Life in my home is never a bore.

If you pass by please come on in,

Nothing to eat, I'll open a tin.

For I am not rich, I am not poor,

But there is always a welcome at my front door.

Banquets.

I dream of banquets and delicious eats,

Oysters, caviar, and bubbly champagne.

Foods that give me such real treats.

I dream this dream again and again.

Mornings I awake my breakfast is real,

Buttered bread and tea no big deal,

In my dreams I eat until I am full,

When awake I feel the hungers pull.

No extravagant gourmet delights for me by day,

The lack of money in my pocket has the last say.

Luxury spending for me is taboo,

Like millions of others I am glad to get through,

I have no real hunger I am happy to say.

Three light meals make up my day,

I love to dream of banquets and good eats,

But they will never be one of my treats.

Diary.

Once I kept a diary it was my secret book,

To bed I took it with me so that none should have a look.

I wrote down all that happened, I was afraid I would forget,

I mentioned all the people on that you can take a bet.

There were all of my longings written down as well,

I thought one day I would write a book it would surely sell.

My thoughts I put to paper it sort of became a duty,

My diary was very sombre it had not much of beauty.

I grew a year older but not wiser I must say,

The entries in my diary became less and les each day.

Then in none burst of self pity I burnt my secret book,

Now my mind is going I don’t know where to look.

Sometimes when my brain is clear and I can clearly think,

It is a wonder that my diary did not turn me to drink.

Now all my old secrets are locked up in my mind,

Most I have forgotten and that is very kind.

Home.

We have carpets on the floor,

And pictures on the wall.

Ours is a solid oak door,

The windows are very tall.

                                    --:--

Our roof is made of tiles,

The bathroom is white.

Our house is full of smiles,

Which for me is just right.

--:--

We have hot and cold water,

A kitchen, which is up to date.

Built of bricks and mortar,

A home we did create.                 

--:--

If you are passing by,

Drop in and say, ”How do?”

We are not at all shy,

And will surely welcome you.

Prayer.

Please God give me the strength to overcome my fear,

I have this real need to feel that you are near.

This my prayer comes from a troubled soul,

And only you have the power to make me whole.

I feel the struggle getting weaker every day,

Age has taken away my will to pray.

Illness has robbed me of my belief once so sure,

It is as if you are fading and soon will be no more.

If I could believe as I did when I was young,

For many were the praises that I for you sung.

My mind struggles to find words of belief,

This fills my souls with sombre grief.

What will happen when my prayers fail?

And all my hopes in you no longer prevail.

Guide me now as in days gone by,

Forgive my weakness as I once more try.

Guide my footsteps on that heavenly way,

That I too may once more learn to pray.

Rose Garden.

In an old English Rose Garden in the County of Kent,

Roses are cultivated that give off a sweet scent.

Many are the colours that are perfect to the eye,

Bushes are plentiful and others that rank on high.

Sweet petals are collected to make a perfume rare,

The roses have names for easiness to prepare.

Many are the uses for a perfume from the rose,

Some are for the skin others for a delicate nose.

People find it pleasant to use a fragrant rose perfume,

Distilled from the petals when they are in full bloom.

Rose perfumes make a lovely gift for a special occasion,

Bees fly from flower to flower to fulfil the propagation.

Nothing is so beautiful as the rose when it is in bloom,

They raise one’s senses from deep depressive gloom.

Queen of all the flowers they have been named,

Many are the passions that the rose has tamed.

Give sweet roses to the Lady of your love,

She will surely lift you to a higher realm above.

Take special heed of the Gardens in the County of Kent,

For each is special and from Heaven has been sent.

No Joy.

I have no joy in writing,

My heart is filled with pain.

There will be more fighting,

The world will never be the same.

Wherever I look I see poverty and the poor,

Will we be able to help them all I ask?

Most are the aftermath of bloodshed and war,

Building homes and feeding them will be a hard task.

Ordinary people give willingly to aid,

For most have hearts of gold.

Many problems are from man made,

As they have been from the times of old.

Problems can be solved with good will,

We need a large round table for all governments.

Tackle each difficulty so each dream will fulfil,

Then I will have no more laments.

I can go back to writing about nature,

And the beauties of this lovely earth.

Leaving problems in the capable hands of legislature,

So that all of mankind may share in joyful mirth.

There will be a thousand years of peace,

It has been prophesied down the ages.

All wars must as of now cease,

Mankind will be freed from its self-made cages.

I am just a mediocre poet my voice I try to raise,

Also I am a pacifist and see no need for war,

I would like to be able to give praise,

To a worldly peaceful government that is for sure.

I call on all poets to join me in my mission,

Hide not your talents speak out loud,

Give all men of your permission,

To come out from behind war’s cloud.

Rainbow.

Send me back to the rainbow land,

That is full with colours to please.

A beauty so vivid and grand,

Then my soul will be at ease.

The only thing I want to see,

Before I breathe my last breath.

Is a rainbow just for me,

Then I can truly face my death.

The colours of the prism,

Breaking the wonderful light,

Will free my from my prison,

As I take my heavenward flight.

I feel that my time is coming to an end,

Send one more rainbow for me.

With colours that one in another blend,

A most marvellous sight to see.

David.

David was a wise man,

As this my poem will tell.

He wrote the most beautiful psalms,

That we all love so well.

Praises to heaven he did write,

That man from long ago.

Nothing could his glory blight,

For his was a godly glow.

His name David often called the wise,

His fame has come down through the ages.

He was at one with the entity of the skies,

The most renowned of all the sages.

The twenty-third psalm gives me assurance and peace,

Written by David's own hand.

May his writings never cease,

For there is nothing else so grand.

Grief.

For you that are sad and in deep grief,

Mourning for a dearly loved soul.

There is for you a kind of relief,

When you set your mind to a new goal.

Take on a burden as in neighbourhood care,

There are many others feeling like you.

Who would be willing your grief to share,

And give you a new point of view.

Grief brings many perspectives to mind,

Opens up horizons before unknown.

Just let your heart be extra kind,

And a new love will to you be shown.

Love and understanding are in great demand,

Be of the first in that glorious throng,

Open your heart be of good cheer,

You will help others to loose their lonely fear.

The Fight.

It was behind the lavatories that the fight took place,

The only thing to do was raise my fists.

He the opponent took a wild punch at my face,

The next I saw of him was through a reddish mist.

I was laying on the ground blood ran from my nose,

He stood above me in a winning pose.

Something snapped inside me and I got on to my feet,

With my fists a swinging his face I did roughly beat.

Al of the other kids were shouting and hopping like mad,

I could not help thinking that this was very bad.

We could have discussed our differences in a civilised way,

But in our state of anger we both had nothing to say.

The fight was over I had obviously won,

For the rest of the term we did each other shun.

Later is was my last day at the school,

I spoke to him and told him that I was a big fool.

We then shook hands and parted in a friendly way,

I had an exalted feeling for fighting does not pay.

Completely Lost.

Have you ever had that feeling?

That you are completely lost.

Your mind and senses reeling,

As in a dark foreboding frost.

Nothing but nothing is as it seems,

Words like phantoms come and go.

It is as if all the bizarre dreams,

Have turned your brain to snow.

The ticking of the mantelpiece clock,

Cuts the silence like a knife.

Your mind is in a mysterious block,

You ask yourself is this my life.

Perhaps I am just getting old,

Brain and body gone to pot,

Where are the times that I was bold,

And my brain could solve every plot.

The Pen.

The Pen is mightier than the sword,

What is written will last forever.

There is a perpetual never-ending cord,

That no sword can ever sever.

Truths that were written turn into legends,

A sword can only maim or kill.

Something that may last for seconds,

But words demand a literary skill.

Words of wisdom down through the ages,

Swords are things long of the past.

Written by wise and learned sages,

Words are wisdom that will last.

Take to the pen and not to the sword,

Let wisdom be your guide.

Words are sayings we can afford,

Wisdom will never have to hide.

Glorious Promise.

A peaceful sleep a quiet night,

Wonderful dreams in bright blue light.

Rising high into the realms of above,

I feel deep inside this Heavenly love.

Those that have passed on to higher sphere,

Assure me that great love is near.

Nothing that on earth took place,

Would mar my chance of Heavenly grace.

I feel the silvery cord that binds,

My earthly body to other minds.

At one with all that have gone before,

I feel the peace that is so sure.

Soon it will be time to awake,

There is no power that my dream can shake.

I will face the newborn day as one,

That has seen the promise when life is done.

Will You?

Will you be there when I need you?

In adversity or in troubled times.

My friends I know are very few,

Most have no sympathy with these times.

For I have sinned during my stay on earth,

Can I rely upon you when all is dark and dread?

Will you be there at my new birth?

To say what has to be said.

Will you be willing to lie?

To forsake the truth for me,

Give me a fresh start and;

Tell my conscience to set me free.

Will I be able to show gratitude to you my friend?

Bind you in my life without dread.

Messages of understanding to you send,

This weighs on my soul like a ton of lead.

If the answers to my questions are positive,

Then you are the friend I seek,

I can then truly once more live,

A new life with the Earths Meek.

Memory Lane.

I’ve wandered a thousand times down memory lane,

Just to catch a glimpse of you again.

Once it was easy to recall your face,

I saw you in many a familiar place.

Now as time pushes on and I grow old,

My memory dims the scent grows cold.

That once friendly face soon gone for good,

Youth would bring it back I know it would.

Next even your name will disappear,

And this my friend is my greatest fear.

For then there is something I will never do again,

Look for you down memory lane.

Politicians.

A corrupt politician is nothing new,

In my long life I have seen quite a few.

Many have nothing when starting their career,

In fact some are lucky if they can afford a beer.

As the days and moths go passing along,

They learn the ways to make them strong.

Then the old adage again becomes true.

We can watch them as their riches they accrue.

Soon they are living off of the fat of the land.

Lead a life of opulence that is most grand.

Promises are made to one and all,

They do not keep them as I recall.

Soon they belong to the upper class,

Live in mansions made of glass.

Have no more time for the voting Nations,

Many and varied the great temptations.

Sadly a corrupt politician is nothing new,

In my long life I have seen quite a few.

The Next To Go.
Who will be the next to go?
My friends are going fast.
The Reaper Death, is not slow,
But I think he will take me last.
Deaths it seem to run in three,
It is strange but very true,
A few more left then me it will be. 
It chills me through and through,
To watch them go one after another,
Fills me with a strange dread,
There is no place to run for cover.
Then it will be me that is dead.
I have lived three score years and ten,
Some never reach this old age,
Now it is a matter of how and when.
For the Reaper must fill the old adage.
I must admit I have had a good run,
Others did not go the full course,
In my life I had great fun,
I am by no means filled with remorse.

Good Cheer.

Take one gram of love be it so small,

one ounce of compassion and care.

Spread it in the world for all,

to cherish and share.

Place on big smile on your face,

for every one to see.

This will please the human race,

and go down through eternity.

Let good thoughts fill your mind,

be kind to one and all.

This will quicken all of mankind,

and become a rallying call.

Spread beauty coming direct from the heart,

sew seeds of love in the atmosphere.

That all may get off to a good start,

and be forever full of good cheer.

Beards.

Every day I have to have a shave,
Don't matter how much I rant and rave.
You know I could grow a long beard,
But then I think I would look so weird.

I work up a lather in my shaving mug,
Get some hot water from my cracked old jug.
Rubbing shaving soap into my poor old face,
I philosophise about the human race.

You know they should make a law,
That shaving is to be no more.
Then all the men that I know,
Would have to let their beards grow.

It is nice to have a really smooth skin,
Especially around my weak looking chin.
But a beard would perhaps be more in place,
To round off the effects of my ugly face.