Bernard Franklin

For changes in human behaviour
I think that the biggest by far,
is the obsession and pride that we all have
in the wonderful motor car.
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Sticky toffee apples, ‘Kiss me quick’,
tame donkey’s on the beach,
sand in hair, the seaweeds song,
and parsons try to preach.
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As sunlight filters through the emerald canopy,
the morning dew on the forest floor sparkles like a diamond mosaic,
The soft lament of bird song gently caresses the all but silent dawn,
and a damp and heavy mist clings to the forest,
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She’s there with you always,
through thick and through thin.
She’s there with you always,
as you lose and you win.
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As time goes by, I’ve missed so much,
your loving hugs and gentle touch.
As your bodies grow too fast to see,
I hope you’ll both remember me.
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We managed to get rid of the Nazi’s,
and to tear down the communist wall.
So what of the police state that’s Britain,
how far must her subjects now fall? .
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The state of mind that is happiness and joy,
is a healthy breeding ground,
for it lifts our spirits on wings of hope,
and keeps us safe and sound.
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Sometimes when I write poetry I get the feeling that my pen is a scalpel,
and that I am ‘sculpturing’ words that appear inside my mind.
Usually to begin with I work heavily with a ‘cold chisel’, and then as the words begin to appear in my head, I use more ornate and delicate tools to do the fine processing.
Finishing off with some light sand papering to buff off the rough edges.
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Sometimes I pray so hard at Christmas,
that the world will look again,
at the reasons why we have to take,
sweet Jesus name in vain.
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Our love has the power
to destroy and create.
Our love has the power
to heal and to hate.
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With his promise’s made, and commitment shown,
he stood his ground to dare.
For his courage was high and his morals were strong,
this man from who knows where.
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As I wake in the morning
and open my eyes
a part of me is saddened
a part of me dies.
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When our prayers are not answered,

How much loss can we take
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I’ve never fought so hard before,
I won some battles but lost the war.
Sedated waiting for the end,
I’m slowly going round the bend.
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As I close my eyes, I can smell a mixture,
of sweet Mahogany and formaldehyde.
Then the slamming shut,
of a huge metal door.
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I didn’t know that whales could talk,
just the same as you or I.
I didn’t know that whales could sing,
or when they’re upset that they cry.
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As the frosty twig light shadows engulf the Scottish glen, an eerie silence descends down upon the calm and tranquil waters of the loch below. Pebbles on the shoreline worn smooth over millennia by erosion, twinkle in the blue hue of a cold autumn moon.
Deep beneath the black waters of the loch, the freezing liquid does not affect the aquatic life forms that live in this cold and fluid world.

Huge salmon lay close to the surface of the water completely exhausted, their deadly fight to climb upstream has seen them once more reclaim their home, but not without many losses. Fishing boats gently bob up and down on the surface of the great lake, dotted about they look like pawns on a giant chess board.
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This is the story of a good man,
who’s Christian name was Pete,
though he started at the top of the tree,
he ended up upon the street.
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Alone down a squalid back alley,
how I wish I could change and go back,
to the normal existence I once had,
away from my sordid world of heroin and smack.
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In the spring of new life high up in the hills,
the rains and moistures form.
They unleash then their torrents on crags and on tarns,
in a powerfully ferocious storm.
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