john thomas Poems

Flicker little candle bright
Leadeth me to bed at night,
Protect me from that squeaky stair
And whatever lives in there.
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Friendly little bird with the human eye
When spade strikes the earth you stop by,
Standing in garden by my side
Watching blade till and glide,
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Most revered mountain of my Countyland
A Yorkshire Folks Mecca to atop your summit stand,
Your anthem sung by travelers all
Hob nail on millstone grit,
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I held his hand when I was young,
I held it when his life was done,
Held it as he sighed his last -
Recalling times, and glories passed.
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Sweet Holly, Pine and Mistletoe,
Your charms I here compare;
Though Yuletide guardians of frosted snow,
‘Tis my love who’s Goddess there.
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John William the Phrenologist
Read bumps upon my head,
He then informed my Mother-
“Get this child at once to bed! ”
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Upon a bank beneath a tree
Beside a trickley brook,
Upon an upturned nutshell I saw a fairy stood.
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What torment to my thoughts you crave
To dissenter me from my grave,
Far escalates our quib!
You’d violate such sacred box?
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Yours; I’m yours! Today’s the day;
No more countdowns, No time to delay;
Yours? - Too early to reflect; to doubt –
Doubt! - I have none; of this I am sure;
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As tempest of a salty spew
Whose view of World is wild, askew
These words that you will spake!
What trips ere from your tongue is fact?
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