Merry Christmas 

       Merry Christmas

 Awake unto the silence of the night

An eerie feeling, shadows in the light

A peace that only inner love can find

On Christmas Day let joy and grace

Let not anger spoil this precious day

Relax, rejoice or maybe even pray

How lucky that we can even see

A present underneath the Christmas

Be thankful for what this yuletide brings

Be not obsessed with just material things

Think of those less fortunate than you

Your kindness may just make their dream

Come true.

On a visit to the cemetery

Walk out through spirits past

Footprints in the frozen grass

Sunshine casts a shadow fair

Warming all souls lying there.

Birdsong in the treetops sound

Add beauty to the holy ground

Memories within my heart

For those too early who depart.

History buried under ground

Carved on tombstones all around

Rich or poor it’s hard to tell

A moral we should remember well.

Depart this world without a care

To do this true love you must share

 Be careful when you do offend

We know not when our life will end.


Remembering my mother at 92

Remembering my mother at 92. ( an excerpt from a work in progress
 “My mother on the other hand worked in the home, which I can see looking back wasn’t an easy task, the old black gas cooker, no washing machine and all those clothes and dishes, work, work, work, never hungry, never sad ,that I can remember anyway, my mother had to be a wizard in philosophy, economics, relationships, a cleaner, a chef and a friend ,but was not shy at times to produce the wooden spoon, enough said. They both loved the bingo, their only escape from the daily running of the home, both teetotallers although never objected to any of their children drinking. The old photos of my parents beam the love and affection that they had for each other. I admire my mothers strength and her unwavering religious belief, seen especially after the passing of my father, which must have been a real test of all that she believed in. Of course she had lost her confidante and friend , but none of this seemed to impact on her everyday job of keeping her family together. 

The door in our house was always open to whoever came to visit, be it for a friendly chat or anyone with a problem, big or small my mother ( as I’m sure all neighbours past and present would attest ) would be there to console and give them advice as well as run her own household and keep it together, something we should be all thankful for. She was a strong country woman of her time living for her family and thankful for the life she had. I can just see her long black hair, standing at the sink washing clothes by hand or the numerous dishes that would accumulate after meals no such thing as a dishwasher back then.”

(the pipe always reminds me of my father)

Trumpets blast 

Trumpets blast, but will it last.

Fear now fills the halls of power

An oligarch has left his tower

Spread the wealth among his friends

Regardless who he must offend.

Can the world survive this fate

Major powers he’ll isolate

Without the blue just red and white

Steals like a thief into the night.

Like many leaders gone before

Who on a pedestal did roar

A man of peace came laid his hand

He found his power built on quicksand.


An advent thought

An advent thought 😥

Caught in headlights streaming by

Look out onto an open sky

Anonymous number on a scroll

No place for a figure on the dole.
Did you stop or wonder why

 as you quickly pass them by

Who they are, where they’re from

Or how to this did they become.

On your comfort leafy street

Such a sight you may not meet

If it happens you today

A kindly word a bid good day.