Sheila Sharpe

A presence is here amidst these trees
where whispers echo
on the evening breeze
it is something as old,
...

There is a timeless place
That comes unbidden to my memory
Where sky blue harebells border a winding track
And lilies of the valley shine in ancient woodlands
...

Centuries shift in the blink of
a Creator's eye
Somewhere secret
is a holy manuscript
...

We are losing the
quietness of green spaces
The silence
That speaks volumes
...

Around the traveller
the mourning lace of leafless trees
is as still as laundered unworn white ruffs
atop a dark torso of ancientlandscape
...

He sees all manner of things
from his avian perch
in the middle of the little wood
that sudden movement
...

Agincourt
Balaclava
Cold Harbour
Dungan's Hill
...

Does belief come from the
intelligent expansion of the heart
or does it ultimately engulf the mind
rendering us gullible
...

a"sculpture"exhibited in the gallery of
Charnwood Museum, Loughborough

old man
...

Those who initiate the conflict
once sat perhaps on horseback
wearing medals from
some long past glory
...

Build us a world of smiles and happy laughter
Where brilliant sunshine is a part of every day
Where loving promises, like brightly coloured rainbows
Enfold our hearts and chase unhappiness away
...

Great grey Goliaths of the deeps
grazing with gaping jaws
sliding softly across the vast
and vividly verdant Ocean floors
...