It's Winter now

It's Winter now
The sickly sun is slow to rise
and then bare overtops my head
Though at its height in leaden skies
the heat that's giv'n is quickly shed
and any light it brings to eyes
from where all hope of spring has fled
is lost, as quickly daylight dies
and sun goes early to its bed.

It's winter now
The snow is deep on field and fen
the land is iron hard and cold
Fell creatures stalk the lands of men
like those from ancient stories told
And autumn's bounty laid down then
by prudent folk in hidden hold
grows less and less in lair and den
and rich men learn they can't eat gold

It's winter now
As hard it was, it's harder now
and young and old are first to go
The babes just fade and old allow
themselves one last walk in the snow
The few survivors wonder how
they will get by when all they know
is gone and darkness does endow
the frozen night with fears that grow

It's winter now
It's winter now and silence reigns
Nobody lived to tell this tale
The people died, all that remains
is fallen stone and broken rail
But what was lost another gains
as wolves run fat in this lost vale
and never roam the frozen plains
so other villages prevail

Spring

Summer

Autumn

Zombie

The holidays are over now
the tourists left, the bars all closed
The tents and caravans are gone
the pitches all bare and exposed.
Yet in the distance something moves
and I am gripped with mortal fright
something is lurching up the path
and I'm the last human on site.
A clumsy gait, a vacant stare
though little human thought remains
dead yet undead and coming near
a zombie come to eat my brains.

Actually it's a German party animal with a hangover
who has missed the last bus.

Watching

I like to watch the people
come to town to do their shopping
all the trying and the buying
all the starting and the stopping
and I wonder where they're going
and just who they will be meeting
as they're milling round like sheep and
I am deafened by their bleating.

Then I wonder does it matter
does it really make a difference
all the motion and the chatter
is it all just interference
just a random side effect of
commerce powering our nation
like the humming in the background
coming from the power station.

But the scientists have told us
that the act of observation
affects changes in the target
that are in direct relation
to the effort that's expended
by the watcher in the shadows
so the people in the high street
are affected by the echoes
of me watching through the window
and I wonder if they realise
that they're altered by me looking
as I'm changed a bit by their eyes
and my head hurts from this thinking
so I think that I will stop now
and then concentrate on drinking
before my coffee gets too cold.

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Sad Happy

If you should leave me now
if you should go away
my heart would not allow
me to survive the day.
We'd made a fateful vow
and nothing you could say
would justify quite how
you turned my life to grey.

But if you take my hand
my heart would skip a beat
and everything we planned
would end up twice as sweet.
We'd walk along the sand
we'd run down every street
flow'rs blooming where we stand
in Us we'd be complete.

If words could kill

If words could kill then this might be
a quieter world than we have known
and manners, they may be the key
when there is no way to atone
for careless word or utterance
or ending any argument
in fatal fashion with no chance
to take back anything ill meant

But wicked men with wicked hearts
may take advantage of this curse
to wreak revenge with verbal darts
and wreck society, or worse
reduce the count of sweeter souls
'til equilibrium is lost
and good men hide in hidey holes
while evil kills like sudden frost

But this dystopian refrain
is not a world that I have known
It's just a spasm in my brain
dark thoughts at night when all alone.
Though not so far from here maybe,
in places that right thinking shuns
it's just the consequence I see
from men exchanging words for guns.

Childhood's gone

Skateboards, bikes and bubblegum.
Winter snow and summer sun.
Memories, now that childhood's gone.

Various Mornings

The Sun rises fast and then hangs looking down,
on the various mornings of one little town.

On school-children dragged unwilling from bed,
by mothers all rushing to get their kids fed,
before chasing them off to the school down the road,
or filling the car with it's chattering load
and driving in packs to the distant high school,
for today it's their turn to drive the car pool
and then, as they wave goodbye to the nippers,
they find that they've come all this way in their slippers.
   On the late office worker who runs for the bus
if he doesn't make it there'll be a big fuss
who gets to the office all wringing with sweat
and finds that his boss hasn't made it in yet.
   On the stay at home shirker who's pulling a sickie
while fit as a fiddle, just taking the mickey,
and staying in bed to watch daytime telly,
with Trisha and Gabby and that Lorraine Kelly.
   On the home coming worker, from nocturnal toil
who sits down and waits for the kettle to boil,
for a relaxing mug that is sweetened and brown,
that ushers in sleep through the noise of the town.
   On ancient and elderly, silver haired seniors,
babes and their minders and toddlers and juniors,
unemployed fathers and stay at home mothers,
cleaners and plumbers and gardeners and others.
And over all this, the sun looking down
on the various mornings of one little town

Ashes or Dust

I would rather be ashes than dust
I would much rather wear out than rust
I'll burn out in glory and my whole life's story
will be that "you can" means "you must".

Can't

The sky is ripped by scarlet flames of sound
and purple shadows puddle on the ground
Alone I'm lost inside a darkling dream
I block my ears but can't block out the scream

The Scream by Edvard Munch.

Is the subject screaming or trying to block out the scream...

White Chocolate Paradox

you are so awfully pretty
with eyes like a new moon shining
and we are alone together
with our single hearts combining
we both brighten up the dark clouds
with our solid silver lining
and white chocolate is the taste that
is this paradox defining

T-Shirt

I was puzzling out the slogan
that was printed on her T-shirt
half concealed by hair and handbag
when so suddenly my head hurt
for my girlfriend had just hit me
as a punishment for staring
although I was only looking
at the words the girl was wearing
which were more than slightly cryptic
and were causing me confusion
but my harmless concentration
had just earned me a contusion
so my lesson for today is
that a message on a T-shirt
should be glanced at really quickly
and that staring makes your head hurt

A Hundred years

We've sat here for a hundred years
a hundred years all turned to stone
together hand in hand my dears
We've sat here for a hundred years
A century has come and gone
but love it never disappears
We've sat here for a hundred years
a hundred years all turned to stone