There once was a snake named rake
Who lived at the side of a lake
He would glide and slide with boggily wide eyes
Until one day he was surprised
Now that snake named rake lives at the bottom of the lake

One night whilst walking home alone.
A drunken man came into sight
His walking was loose hips and made for a fun sight.
At first I thought of turning and walking the other way.
Then the man started rolling and his hips began to sway.

I stayed on track best foot forward, just don't look him in the eyes.
If you keep walking right on past and as fast as you can go, I began to internalise, don't look back and don't walk too slow.
I felt as though I was worldly wise and not a young fool who had just left school.

Then the unthinkable happened.
We were level with each other, my heart began to race at such a heavy pace.
I raised my fists in self defence. He laughed and sang a song Waltzing Mail da was the name, then he wandered on.

I looked back as he passed me by, loosy hips swaying from side to side.
Not a care in the world, nothing to hide.
Just a happy drunk on his way who knows where.

I wish I was a happy drunk I'd like to have no cares but for now I wander aimlessly from Town to Town, looking over my shoulder at who may be around.
Waiting in the wings for the next Happy Drunk who sings, maybe the next one will fancy himself with me in the rings.

Thoughts thrashing around in my head,
Memories I do not wish to forget,
I reach for my pad to jot them down,
It's been a long time since you've been around.

A beautiful baby boy, blonde hair, blue eyes,
One look and you had us all mesmerized,
A brother to Lisa you both grew close, tight-knit,
You laughed together, cried together,
All the time thinking you had forever and ever.

From Boy to Man you made your Mum and family proud.
Our feelings though weren't always expressed loud.

As you grew older your smiles grew more rare;
Your eyes began to dim.
We should have known you were struggling to swim; against the tide
Your true feelings, from us, you decided to hide

Schizophrenia was the diagnosis
You tried hard to fight it
The illness got the better of you
That much is true
The day we lost you was a mixed day of grey and dark blues

In your less than thirty years, you endured much pain and suffering.
If only we had known;
We would have banded together, never let you suffer alone.

Your candle extinguished this world 5th June 2011.
Free from pain and suffering, the Lord called you to join him in Heaven.
That day, it was as if someone turned out the lights, the joy left the room too.
There is now nothing, where once there was you.

Two months later the occasion? your 30th Birthday.
Your family gathered to wish you Happy Birthday, release balloons and scatter your remains.
Now once a year we gather again;
At a beautiful place where once you had surfed.
We walk and talk, eat cake and sing;
It's a beautiful day of a family gathered, remembering.

It still hurts to think you left us so young.
Now we know your life here on earth caused you unknown amounts of pain.
I think of you and wish you peace when the sky is grey, and it starts to rain;
I think of you and wish you peace when the Sun is in the sky;
I think of you sitting on a cloud, cigarette in hand, the life, heart, and soul of the Heavenly Band;

I take a while to remember the blonde hair, blue-eyed little boy with the big smile from ear to ear.
Always longing that you were of course, still here.

Wherever you are in the universe,
I sit wishing the wheels would reverse,
So much to tell you, I wish we could have one more converse(ation).
I would tell you about your Cousins, Simon, Jason and Sophie ;
How settled they all are; both boys married with families, Sophie will be married and a Mum soon.
The day I lost my Dad I thought of you; I know my Dad would find you and give you a special hug.
A hug we should have given you when you were still with us.

Oh, and I’m an Author and Poet now, who knew;
We were going to lose you so soon;
We would have done things so differently, made changes, been around.
Held you like you needed to be held and helped you to feel safe and sound.
Forgive us darling for not loving you as you deserved, thinking we had time before you became deceased.
Wherever your soul has settled; we wish you an endless life of love and peace.

There was a man from coypool
People thought he was a proper fool
But he won a stash of money playing the pools
Now everyone wants to befriend the man from coypool

If I was born in a different place
When I look in the mirror would I see the same face?

If I was born in a different time
Would I still be yours, would you still be mine?

If I was born in a different place
Would I still be a thinker, able to think free, would I still be me?

If I was born in a different time
Would we still have married travelled the world, would we have 3 children that make us very proud?

If I was born in a different place
Would I still step outside for a run or would I find some other form of fun

If I was born in a different time
Would we have 3 Grandchildren to give us joy, 1 beloved girl and 2 darling boys

If I was born in a different place
Would I be proud of who I am or would I be a disgrace

If I was born in a different time
I would have missed so much that I can now call mine

Sent away by my Husband, secreted behind four walls

Walls that are six feet wide and ten feet tall

Sent away for safekeeping by my Husband, The King

With child in my belly and just a Lady in waiting  

I do not know the reason, why I must hide

Why I must remain hidden without my Husband by my side

I am not bound by chains, my hands and feet are free

My place of safety has a friendly name, they call it, Sanctuary

In this Sanctuary that I dwell

I live cocooned in my personal hell

Although, as I say, not bound, I am not free to come and go

The Guards of Honour outside my door are not standing for show

I have no communication with the outside world

My thoughts and mind are in a constant whirl

Is my Husband being true? Whilst I'm here inside

Or does he have a mistress providing him with warmth at nights?

I do not know how long it will be

Before my Husband comes to set me free

Will he bide his time, wait to see if the child is a boy

Before he confirms I am his one love, the Mother of his pride and joy

I should not worry, I should be happy

Here in the dwelling they call my Sanctuary

But by day I worry about my fate

Will they come for me at night when it's late?

Wake me up, take me outside the doors

To be met on the green by the Executioner with his sharp sword  

One day my fate will be known

Hopefully I will take my rightful place beside my Husband, on the throne

In the meantime I remain inside these four walls, as I say  not bound but not free

For now, this place is my lonely existence, my Haven, my Sanctuary

Sad to be leaving here
Happy to be going home

Is Pizza like the wheel of life
To be consumed slice by slice
Some consume it slowly and enjoy each slice
Some devour it quickly, its gone in a  thrice
Some like it plain others add spice
In life we each make choices based on our likes
Some like it plain others with spice
Sounds to me that Pizza is indeed similar to the wheel of life

There once was a man from St Levans
Who baked bread that people said tasted like Heaven
He shared his bread far and wide, so the people could decide
That heavenly bread man from St Levans

There once was man from Plymouth
Who had a really big mouth
He opened it wide, a yacht slipped inside, he went out with the tide
Now he lives in Mclouth
The unfortunate man from Plymouth

Harry the hedgehog and Sammy the Snail, lived together, in harmony, in the garden of a cottage called THE LAST TRAIL.

The owners of the cottage were indeed very nice. They were always putting out food for squirrels, hedgehogs’, snails and of course mice.

By day Sammy would pull his head inside his shell, which Sammy found kept him warm, very well.
Harry would pull his body in tight, making himself into a small ball.  

Together Harry and Sammy would wait for night time to fall.
They would stay this way all through the day. Hidden and safe, with nothing to say.

When night time came, Harry would extend his body and shuffle his feet, wriggle his nose and walk down the path to his own rhythm and beat.

Sammy the snail would pop out his head and slide and glide along the garden path, swerving from side to side.

Together they would make their way to the vegetable bed where the owners of the cottage left some milk and soggy bread.

‘Yuk!’ thought Sammy, in his mind the owners, they weren’t being very kind.

Harry though he would stay and devour the meal while Sammy made his way to something that held better appeal.

Whilst Harry took his time consuming the soggy bread and milk. Sammy’s food choice was of another ilk.

Sammy made his way to the cabbages where he used his thousands of tiny teeth to strip the goodness from the leaves.

Bellies full Harry the Hedgehog and Sammy the snail made their way back home, leaving behind them a silvery trail.

They settled for the rest of the night, happy in each others company, waiting for tomorrow’s twilight.

When they would wake again and make their way to the vegetable bed to fill their tummies before returning to their own safe beds.

I sit inside, its cold outside
The snow it keeps on falling
The wine is red, the bottle is open
Watching Bradley Walsh losing it on the chase
Life doesn't get any better

There once was a man from Kerry
Who was incredibly hairy
He could knit a scarf, gloves and hat or a toilet mat from the hair on his belly
Now he's in demand to knit coats from the hairs on his hands
That incredibly hairy man from Kerry

Here I stand on public display.
In my choice of home,
I have no say!
Wherever my roots travel,
That’s where I lay.

One hundred springs, summers, autumns, and winters — I have survived.
I stand with pride, thankful to be alive.
Filtering pollution and
breathing life into the air is my gift to you.
Keeping the skies a perfect blue.

Birds wake me with their tuneful song. In a chorus, they happily cheep and chirp. A joyful, uplifting start to the day.
They soar, glide, and fly gracefully above my head.
As they search for food to feed their young. Seeking earthworms and even crumbs of bread.
Their wind from their wings cause my leaves to rustle, sending a delightful shiver throughout my spine. A spiritual feeling that is hard to define.
I make myself taller, sending my branches upwards, towards the skies. It is my way of saying thank you to the pigeons, gulls, ravens, and magpies.

I have witnessed many natural disasters over the years,
Floods and fires are the cause of many tears.
Homes that are washed clearly away, cars that are tossed like a feather so light.
The waters gather in vast quantities, rolling through towns and villages at great speed and with great might.
Leaving devastation behind in their wake.

The most worrying for me, though,
Is of course, a fire out of control.
It scorches my bark and burns my soul.
I feel the heat as it flickers and leaps up my trunk.
My bark is blackened, pieces fall to the floor,
In charred chunks.
Sap seeps out of me, bleeding into the soil.
The moss and lichen nearby will at least feed on my oil.

By day, people lay blankets at my feet.
Laying before me their wholesome treats.
Pies, sandwiches, jars of pickles, and slices of meat.
Samosas, wraps, hummus, fruit, and veggie sticks. A smorgasbord of treats.
During times like this, I dream of having a mouth to consume and savour food. It brings joy and laughter, lightening the mood.

Many celebrations of life have been toasted under the shade of my leaves.
My world has hosted whole families struggling to grieve.
On display, cakes of many tastes and sizes
celebrating ages from low to high numbers.
Are all consumed at the base of my lumber.

This year. I am pleased to say, has been uneventful.
And for that, I am truly thankful.

As autumn turns into winter,
I shed my leaves.
Humans retreat to the warmth of their homes.
I stand here, mostly alone.
Waiting for spring to burst its way through the cold. Bringing with it colour and warmth and,
most importantly,
Bringing you back outdoors to spend your days with me.
This is the life of an ancient deciduous tree.

There was a woman called Mary
Everyone she met said she was scary
So Mary set to task with a gun and mask
To frighten everyone she met in handing over money
The lady by reputation became Scary Mary

Sat on the grass surrounding an old, weathered church.
My focus is on a buzzard, sitting on its perch.
He is as still as a rock; his poise gives nothing away.
His keen eyes have already noticed I am here today.
Though others kneel with heads bowed in devotion.
My spirit soars with birds of prey in slow motion.

As the day segues into night.
Darkness arrives, bathing the churchyard in a warm, ethereal light.
The moon appears, swapping places with the sun.
The transition to evening has just begun.

People have left, gone home for the night.
I sit alone, contemplating the twilight.
My eyes are on the birds of prey.
As they also contemplate the end of the day.

Finding peace amongst the gravestones, my mind wanders free.
I conclude birds have the ultimate liberty.
They are free to move from perch to perch.
Perhaps settle by a river in an oak or birch.

Today, their choice is an old building,
settled amid their grotesque gargoyles.
With nests made of leaves, feathers, and soil.

In the yard at night, two beings sit, showing mutual regard.
Both perched on solid ledges, which are uncomfortably hard.
One with security for its family, in front of mind.
The other one is of humankind.

These large birds leave their nest but rarely.
When they do, it is a treat to see.
Extending their wings to their fullest extent.
The world close by is theirs to circumvent.

As they glide and soar through the air, effortlessly
They are creatures who are truly free.
Cutting through the skies with elegance and grace.
They are the commanders of the vast blue space.
Spotting their prey, they hover and then quickly swoop.
Into their mouths, voles, mice, and earthworms, they scoop.

In nooks and crannies, on their ancient ledge.
They survey the world from the very edge.
Finding peace and tranquillity amongst the old.
Weathering the seasons through hot and cold.
Whilst I go home to a snug, soft bed.
A duvet and soft pillow to lay my head.