SHORELINE

We walk together hand in hand
As we stroll across wet sand
The sun sets, as the day grows old
Turning silver seas to shining gold
We continue our walk in twilight
As the moon illuminates the night
And the stars adorn the heavens
The sea breeze soon then freshens
Surf moves higher up the shore
We head back to home once more

THROUGH FROSTED GLASS

The sheltered lowlands
In valleys by the acre
Dusted white as if
Sugared by a cake decorator
A picturesque fairyland
A scene of pure delight
Viewed through a window
You avoid the winter’s bite
Trees stripped bare
Dressed now in ice and frost
Shiver in the wind
Longing for the summer lost

FOREIGN FIELDS

In the flower of youth cut down
Pals in regiments from every town
Sent to fight in the Nations name
Sent to die to the General’s shame
On foreign fields a generation falls
Heroes for whom the last post calls
Heroes sent to fight across the seas
Names now whispered on the breeze
Gathered as the bell of tribute tolls
Now call with pride the honor rolls

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

A hero, a myth a legend
An idea? A tale or fable
With a grain of truth
And come the time
He will be there
At the right time
To rescue us all
What hero?
A name gently whispered on the breeze
Or shouted on the wind
Arthur? Robin? Horatio?
Heroes all
Our real hero, neither myth or legend
Not an idea or tale or fable
But is the truth
And come the time
He will be there
At the right time
To rescue us from ourselves
A name gently whispered in reverence
And shouted in rejoicing
A name embedded in our soulsOur lord god

RCS V RHS

A surgeon was in deep discussion with a horticulturist
On whether or not the immortal soul does actually exist
The medic began “I have been a surgeon for many a year
And after many operations I would like to make it clear
After having cut every consievable part of a human being
I can say without doubt that I don’t remember ever seeing
Or finding anything that you could possibly ever compare
To an immortal soul within the human body anywhere”
The horticulturist then responded to him in this form
Saying “If I were to cut into a flower bulb, tuber or corm
I would not be able to see any sign of a flower anywhere
But we both know a beautiful flower dwells within there”

THE GOOD CITIZEN

I am twenty one years old
And was raised in the proper way
To abide by the laws of land
And to live by the rules every day

I was raised to apply common sense
To any action I might make
And to use my own judgment
And not to fear making a mistake

I was raised to respect myself
And respect others at the same time
I was raised to respect the law
And not to resort to crime

I was raised to think for myself
And given the tools to do so
I was taught the right from wrong
And how to behave and how to say no

I loved my life and I was happy
I had a good job which paid very well
A large circle of great friends
And a shiny new car I called Annabel

So when I went to a party with friends
To celebrate a twenty first birthday
I drove their in my beloved Annabel
And drank only coke to my friends dismay

I remembered what I was taught
And I didn't drink and drive
Despite pressure from my piers
I made a conscious choice to stay alive

I had a good time at the party
And I was proud of myself for my stance
I had a good time at the party
Though friends teased me for my abstinence

All too soon the party ended
And we hugged and kissed our goodnights
Then we all went our separate ways
I got into Annabel and turned on the lights

I drove off safe in the knowledge
I had done the right thing staying dry
I observed all the speed restrictions
Not realizing I was soon about to die

I’m standing on the roadside
And see my broken body on the ground
Poor Annabel is smashed to pieces
With men in uniforms all around

A young man was led away in handcuffs
It seems he was a drink driver
All his passengers were also dead
He was drunk and the only survivor

If he had been taught as I was
I would not now be lying dead
If he had been taught as I was
The road would not be coloured red

In my short life I was a good person
I was a good daughter to my parents
A good sister to my young brother
And good to my friends and confidents

There is so much I will now never do
My life will never be fulfilled
I was a good citizen until today
When through selfishness I was killed

ON THE BLOODY FIELD OF BATTLE

Bright burnished copper shields
Shined bright as gold in the midday sun
Spear points glinted in the sun
Like a myriad of dancing fire flies
Silver lights blinked from polished
Buckles and embellishments
The clink of metal on metal
The snort of impatient horses
The barking of impatient sergeants
Leather creaked and strained
On soldier and beast
All the sights brought back to mind
Vivid remembrances
And the sounds spoke a familiar tongue
To the battle hardened
Anticipation dried the mouth
Almost as much as the dust
Banners fluttered lightly in the breeze
Some standing as tall as trees
And carrion eaters waited unseen
For the coming banquet
Then the battle commenced
With an ensuing cacophony
Many died quickly, painlessly
Not even seeing the fatal blow
Equally many died slowly
In agony from their wounds
Others lay on the bloody field
For hours and survived
Only to fight and die another day
The victors write the history
Of the bloody days events
The truth also lies dying
On the bloody field of battle