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
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. ( 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, 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 😥
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.