The weather has nothing to do with mood.
When I was young, I would, on a hot day
Rest a caterpillar in my palm; it would happily
Crawl around, never swearing or making noises
If I liken you to a summer's day
You will say I copied Shakespeare.
If I liken you to a red rose
You will say I am a flatterer.
Come my love we must run away
And discover a secret place
Where each new dawn as I awake
I gaze on your beautiful face.
Somewhere between a farm
And a Nazi you stumbled.
Was it youth that dragged
A breeze wreathes through
It whispers to the leaves
Then moves on
Leather straps old and worn
From long past lives
Who sat and scratched oak arms
While in your last embrace.
I remember that day by the pool
Your haunting eyes beckoning me
To join you in the icy depths below.
The promise of your cold embrace;
I am lifted from reverie
To see beyond horizons of my soul
In a place that has no place on earth.
Do not pass me by this Remembrance Day,
Ponder for a moment before you drift away.
I fought my fight so others might live
I saw a shadow on the wall
Beside the bedroom door;
Beckoning me to follow it
Into the dim lit hall.
Basic education at primary and grammar school. Most of my school time I wasted but I was interested in art and literature. I painted for many years and was exhibited once. In my forties I decided to write and had several articles about birds published. This led me to poetry which I had always loved. I had a small success when one of my poems was published. Nothing since unfortunately.)
Beyond This World
The other world
In ever changing
Souls to create
Not an instrument
In a sketch.