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hugh everard Poems
A time to be born, a time to expire. A time in between to set the world on fire. A time to imagine, a time to mature. A time to bring your love to the fore.
Soaked to the skin the next of kin gave voice to holy creed. They mourned a friend who's early end had caused their hearts to bleed. As they lowered the cask they sought to ask the meaning of such a day. Many did mull why some lives are full whilst others cut short their stay.
Beauty And The Beholder
BEAUTY AND THE BEHOLDER By creation or chance doth the universe dance, unpartnered it's beauty unknown. And yet all that is beauty that pleaseth the eye is no sweeter than wanting if no soul passeth by and the heavens mere contast alone.
Our Garden -new-
A garden is no place to roam when winter blows across the loam. Colour naked all forlorn the earth awaits to be reborn. Sowed the seed raised the heat, helped natures children to their feet. And if miracles do take fruit, , its in the spreading of the shoot.
With sleepy eye we bid goodbye to dreams that pass from sight, yet how oft that inner picture makes us richer to immortalize the night. A mind unbound it's often found awakes our inner eye and with helpless gaze we view the malaise from former days gone by.
Heaven With a Pinch Of Salt
From the day we first breathe we are taught to believe that god racks up the score. But after a while one has to smile at the thought of a heavenly door. but if there is one thing l dread it's after l'm dead fate throws up one last quirk. I'm stuck in a queue with a million or two and find that the toilet's don't work.
Keep It Simple
His love was like a red red rose as only burns could wax. Wordsworth and his daffodils caused not the mind to tax. Satanic mills, Jerusalem, tigers in the night, lets raise a cup to dear old Blake who put not verse to flight. Seldom did a book of verse satisfy my thirst, Britannica oft the second choice to comprehend the first.
Trees Who Needs Them
Scottish pine and mountain ash, what scene could frame a finer dash as sunbeams danced among its cooling glade. Romance etched upon the bark where lovers coyed and left their mark and men stepped out from where their youth had laid. And oh! what mighty ships of past would sail had oak not made their mast, and was not the earth alas a smaller place. Thus acorns seeded on the moor made fast the flag on distant shore, whence king and country ruled its native race.
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A time to be born, a time to expire.
A time in between to set the world on fire.
A time to imagine, a time to mature.
A time to bring your love to the fore.
A time to cry for a love unreturned.
A time for a lesson sadly learned.
A time to move on and realize your dream.
A time to reflect on what might have been.
A time when you gave your offspring the best.
A time full of memories when they first flew the nest
A time to accept that youth's on the wane.
A time to slow down in accord with your brain.
A time to admit there had always been time.
A time when ...