I am sat on a bench, on the seafront, alone,
Just me, and the sea, and the old weathered stone.
Of course, there are tourists, who wander on by,
And silver winged gulls, as they dissect the sky.
...
Would you give a gnome a home?
Sit him down on sculpted foam?
Find a pleasant shaded spot,
Not too cold, and not to hot.
...
Oh, this green and pleasant land,
Its clear blue seas and golden sands.
Its rolling hills and wooded vales,
Its constant rain and howling gales.
...
Christmas comes but once each year
I beg from each of you a tear;
A tear for the homeless whose bed is the floor
...
The night was clear, and still, and silent, air like razor-blades
The naked trees stood sentry, limbs outstretched, in dark charades
The ground, a pure white wilderness, sends out no invitation
But the traveler has need of none, he knows his destination.
...
In 1966, in a small village in South Wales, on the 21st. of October, Pantglas Junior School was engulfed by a slide of mud and coal slag. One hundred and forty four souls lost their lives, including one hundred and sixteen children.
The sky was grey and sullen
...
How do I find the words
To say how much I love you?
When you are near
...
The mist hung low, above the moors
A gentle breeze, caressed the tors.
Ancient boulders, lost in sleep
Buried secrets they would keep.
...
We sit by the stream
On this soft summer's day
Entranced by the dance
As the dragonflies play.
...
When I have gone, please do not cry,
Shed not a single tear.
Do not ask the question, why?
Or harbor any fear.
...