Bernard Franklin Poems

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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