Ernestine Northover Poems

Why is it that so often, the poems you try to write,
Only come into your mind, in the middle of the night,
Suddenly, a really wonderful, sentence comes to mind,
And then you start to mould some more, and that is when you find,
...

Come dance to the drum.
Follow the steady heart beat,
By tapping the feet.
...

An angel floated overhead,
With such soft gentle eyes,
I lay entranced upon my bed,
'Is this like when one dies? ',
...

Why do we spend so much time in the gym,
Why is it that we feel we must keep slim,
On cycling, long hours we spend,
But, go nowhere, in the end,
...

Send us a letter,
Write us some prose,
Slip us an Email,
Text us, I suppose,
...

I think his name was Carlo, or was it maybe Marlow,
He was as handsome, as he could possibly be,
I offered him my 'head' and mentally my 'bed',
I imagined perhaps he'd really fancy me.
...

They were 'Proctors' and 'Jackaroos' in those days.
Single wing aeroplanes,
two and four seaters,
either open engines, or open under your seat.
...

Oh Sea, why do you deliberately pound the rocks along the bay,
Sending showers of white foam up, in a cascade of spray,
Can you not cease your travels, churning incessantly,
Surging back and forth, always longing to be free.
...

I visualize a voyage into infinite space,
Along with a spaceship and you,
Travelling hyperspeed, we would happily race,
A Comet, for the fun of the 'new'!
...

Heavy are my thoughts of you tonight,
You, who's face fills me with sheer delight,
You, whispering in my head through dreams so real,
Why is it, that I so cherish what I feel.
...