Oh to the school of nature go


          Oh, to the school of nature go

          Ripen, mature put on a show

          Negativity it would drain

          Root out the rot within your brain.
          Brighten like the clear blue sky

          Bloom, like cocoon to butterfly

          Like winter turning into spring

          Beaming smiles, songbirds sing.
          Ignore the weather closing in

          Icebergs melting, mankind sin

          No more colours sunlight shine

          Conservation, bottom line.
            ©j.black (wordverse.me)


Looking through rose tinted glasses


Looking through rose tinted 

Beneath Dublin city’s chimney stacks 

Lie cobblestones and old tram tracks 

The rag and bone man calling out

Children playing, scream and shout.
The milkman on his daily rounds

Tinkling glass the bottle’s sound

Robin with his beak did press

On silver cap the cream to get.
At Christmas we’d gather there

Under the tree the presents share

Parcels wrapped for everyone

Forget your troubles have some fun.
In those days a little mattered

Dolly prams, fire engines scattered

Christmas Day a real occasion

Before the technical invasion.
Off to mass, brand new clothes

Woolly socks no naked toes

All wrapped up against the cold

Snowball fighting, young and old.
How innocent were we back then

No gadgets to confuse our brain

No insolence or talking back

A wooden spoon with you would smack.
Things are all different now

Children’s lives have changed somehow

No interest in the wind up toy

Lost I think that simple joy.
©j.black (wordverse.me)


In the alleyway of life

Through the alleyway of life I wander

Dwelling deep within the shadows.             


Lost, desolate, depressed, I ponder.            


Tears tearing through the darkness 
That lies within my troubled soul.

Alone, lonely, out of control.
A voice screams within my head

Unable to scramble what is said
People pass anonymous unnoticed 

Unaware of my existence
In the alleyway of life.


Precious moments

Precious moments

In the ‘Merchant’ Shakespeare scrolled
“All that glitters is not gold”
I wonder did he ever see
Sunshine glisten through a tree.

Precious moments we should gather
Squirrel in the mind, not scatter
Pluck on when we’re feeling low
Let that sad depression go.

Treasures in the world around
Greens, blues, golds astound
Visions that have left us breathless
Natures manner to caress us.

©j.black (wordverse.me)