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by GnomeingSpriteicus


















“Searching for the Light”


An unknown year, an unknown place,

an unknown time of day - four strangers meet

by chance and are asked to write down

pleasant life experiences - did they panic? -

and / or write too quickly, here are the

startling results ..............











                1.     What Was I Before

                   2.    Mother



                5.     We Must Be Punished

                7.     Father

                8.     Afternoon Scenes

                9.     They Said It Was Only a Field

                11.   Let's Talk Democracy

                12.   Paganism - The Old & The New

                13.   Lost

                14.   Jealousy Is Trying To Leave  

                   16.   Hello Special Friend

                17.   Playing With Fire

                18.   The Healers

                20.   The Magic Cottage

                   22.   Hail The Trees

                24.   My First Childs Just Been Born

                26.   I've Been Drinking Too Long

                27.   Everyone Needs Friends


                30.   Computers Are Good But

                31.   I Remember That Precious Weekend

                33.   Crash

                34.   Imagine Going To War

                35.   Roll The Dice Please, One More Time For Me

                37.   Money - My Rise and Fall

                39.   Lonely and Rarely Sad, I Thought

                40.   Actor's Memories   

                41.   Out Of Work

                42.   Messages In The Weather

                44.   I Cannot Believe I Nearly Gave This Away

                46.   Lives Are Easier When Love's Around

                48.   The Old And Time









She trod this earth a very long time ago

The village woman whom love partnerships eluded

The deepest lay in her Profession

A herbalist which bred hallmarks of frustration.


The authorities suspiciously smelt the scent

and sought to weave her within their web

"Herbalism is a terminal oddity,

overseas, this creature would be earmarked a witch.

This World  (tut-tut) is far too soft a haven!"


Her premature departure at twenty-two was sickness.

She escaped the feared judicial noose

The wise woman's presence/profession lingered in the village,

like filtering down herbalistic lore.

Work aimed to cure,

thus both eyes closed content.







Mother, "thanks for healing my mind",

when I saw stars fall from the sky

and for producing magical moments,

to be recalled in periods of sadness,

always on my front page.


My largest promise is to send you.

the letter that ends all my other ones,

thanking you for all you have done.

Yet words do not come easy to me

and time slips by farther every day.


Sorry for the year my words turned against you,

moving from town to town produced no love fairytale,

the greatest love always stemmed from you.

I mentally grabbed your shadow when alone,

hours of time on the telephone

helped stem the flow of tears.


Your constant supplies of strength

are a great motto to me.

You never know what is around the corner,

those words keep coming around again to me.

We are lucky to have stuck together as a team.


The generation gap no longer seems that much

and love through kind words is the saviour now,

so do not be scared to ever run to me for help.

I will always be there for you

that is the beauty of loving somebody forever.


So Mother I wrote this poem for you this evening

as a tribute to your kind soul.

Your love for people again and again

will always keep candles burning,

when somebody feels they are trapped in the cold.

Goodnight Mother, faith and love these are treasures to me
















The premier lash cascaded me to heaven and back

this daily dose of ecstasy outweighs most peoples thrills

it's divine retribution for the sin I have committed

each stroke summons pleasant images of my wife

whom I departed for my daughter's best friend

and she administers my planned object of desire.


My Thrasher cried out lines of adultery,

from the Old and the New Testament

every time you quote incorrectly.

A fragment of your heart dies

and your wife's picture grows ever more blurred.


My sons best friend delivers a curious portrait

when we say "how's it going?" On the step

my wife's beaten black and blue, then confronts me

and deals the ultimate ace

"This was my 7th day of suffering

since we cut the scissors together

of the picture which says:-

You're together until somebody's dust",

By the way "This is my replacement"

so then I knelt down and confessed all.


It was a curious scenario,

We expected the post mortem cried our children

"No my dears, we are now reunited.

early on in our marriage we granted

each other an openness to anybody

but only for the first year.

Unscrupulous behaviour will return to haunt thee,

Exchanging the same dream recently.

so, please children, turn the tables

and tell your elders, "This is how to behave."









One of these days we must sit down

and discuss what we don't understand about each other.

It's going to be hard for we are both shy

and I pray it won't be long.

Yet recent events giving answers

may have ended that for a while.


It was very hard you changing jobs after many years,

in my mind you struck gold.

Many times on your work journey in life.

Some work methods I've tried to copy

and these will stay to my retirement hopefully.


We share a lot of interests

luckily some returned to me recently,

because otherwise it would have been sad

to have thought of the joy they gave us

and never to touch our hearts again.


Your courage with facing certain problems

is a tribute to you as a human being.

Stay brave, things seem so much better now,

you led the team when we were in despair,

your determination repaired our jaded minds.


As the years float on by,

your gentle manner will always help you.

You taught us life spares nobody from problems.

Lessons of life I learn from you

which one day I would be proud

to pass on to my children.








'Daffodils and marigolds chattering - laughing,

They're blowing in the wind.

Honey bees drop onto them.

Falling fragments out of the sky,

Lovely lawn - it's just lost its beards.'

Behind - the golden eagle hovers around

that small mountain den

'My territory - that's sacred'.

'Trespassers thou will be pecked'.


Friends and lovers smile into each other's eyes,

'Who is really there'

Cobras and charmers perfecting perfect patterns

For tomorrow's enchanted child.

Middle aged man, hat, pipe, polly on his left,

Stares blankly into the sky -

Is it the clouds/his incredible career

Veering into another phase?

Daughter, mother, Gran and Grandpa George

Link arms - tango into the midsummer's fading light.


As night time falls, closing time please

People gone, flowers sleep and I must go now too.









The Family huddled around wrestling with fate,

our field 300 years of heritage

duped by some town schmuck.

The storm of 29 seemingly engulfed your Grandfather,

yet he was already married to his earth,

so wavered not when the moon broke down,

The field interacted with his soul.


Some locals speculated our field produce

could inject social harmony to

the pleading starving town masses.

When famine acquainted itself in the village,

other fields were readily employable,

yet even the worms fled in disgust.

So the families wallowed in self contentment

by queuing for life from our field,

they voted it the saviour that year.


The prospects of viewing concrete over lambs

flooded out our house  with tears.

Residing in town is a one-way lair

to a crockload of despair.

I swore my ashes would be scattered

over the field, the town doesn't own them.


The cock crowed 13, signalling our demise

for traitor was reportedly initialling the deed

sunbathing sipping champagne in that field

But the villagers arrived with sparkling eyes,

the petition signalled victory

for country over town.

Our bloodline seemingly dormant,

now oozed from every grain.

Thank you comrades,

come share the fine feast from our field.








Our son is snared in his shell

muted by the racial taunts.

Yet his parents applauded

the country they lived in.

Self humbling meetings took place

when tormentors and victims met face to face.


Some tormentors blamed their country's colonial past

the imperial attitude was "we will

always be better than you."

Thus although the empire is redundant

this standard pathetic colonial thought

has taught us to react

in some of the old format.


The mediators squashed this notion "It's too easy

to blame our country's Ancestral past."

They said it's really about lessons

being dug from the human heart

and letting harmony in,

for peace will reign when harmony wins.


After several meetings the rejoicings

parents penetrated their sons shell.

"Hoorah" his stature is rising high

and feels his confidence is everywhere.

The three of us now campaign

for more meetings across the country

for its our land as well

lets talk "harmony" - That's democracy.







Rufus King of England will soon die, it's 1100 AD.

Oh, unsuspecting friend did you release this arrow?

Yet these woods cannot hide all my foes

The public were persistently painted a picture

of how evil my mind was

however the propaganda machine never stopped rolling

because I am openly Pagan.


King Rufus said It's now half a Millennium

when Paganism was purged from these shores

I tried to stand up and show my people

That the older religion of a country

can live in harmony with the new.


Many years then passed by

when a mere tourist observing Rufus's final port of call

reckoned the king is smiling

for more people now say openly

"Paganism, I really do believe"

and fearing less the heavy intolerant hand


The tourist pictured Rufus's ideal scene

a group of believers critics and sceptics share common ground

"Toleration - not fundamentalism is the key"

old and new Religions and non believers please unite

and be a blueprint for ever more.







Two ants scurried across the table

pet rat snored silently

telephones alive - sorry it's in the mind

the aspirins seemingly hover nervously

saying "Surely not again?"


She left 66 days ago

seems like 666

mates rapping, tapping on the front

they're avoiding my frequent distant stare.


"Gotta be some way out of here"

(in French) to the hanging masks on the wall

which surrounds me so much more

from it

hundreds of smiles are content again.


Leapt up

counted snakes to sleep

lovely Lucille appears in the night

then I wake once more.








People breathed with new souls again

the night jealousy died.

There were many shrines destroyed

in people's mind by jealousy.

Faces seemed brighter and more welcoming,

the moment jealousy crept from town.

Arguments were more pleasant, even the moon smiled

when jealousy was bankrupt from the dictionary.


Happy faces were soon drinking tears,

when jealousy soon returned

and the air seemed heavier with remorse again.

Flowers seemed cross to go into peoples homes

in case they smelt the scent of jealousy.

Everyone is joining forces, stating unity in the town,

to ban jealousy for permanent time.


A stranger stalked through town the other night

and promised a "no-lose" windfall for the town,

It promised it knew the secret of expelling jealousy for good.

The talking was for one week, nobody dared sleep

as jealousy packed up to haunt other minds.

Yet everyone became suddenly too nice

and some people even got bored.

Jealousy just did not know how to leave.


The last apple tasting competition on a Sunday night in town,

is held to remind the town of jealousy,

that the human soul can never rid of it

and although nobody would admit it,

everbody owned a piece of it.

People wrote down jealous thoughts and swapped it

with the neighbours, so lessons were learnt.


In a generation, the stranger will return

to see how much jealousy can go away.

So the flower of peace returns to remind people

of a possible permanent joy, when jealousy said "Goodbye”







My mind drifted towards you the other day,

although it's so less often now.

Have you found that long awaited love?

Or are you in some lonely place in the rain?

Your voice seems a fading memory now.


I always knew your many friends

gave you heartfelt advice when you are down.

It must seem that I only desired

to know you to secure romance.

I called to express sincere thoughts,

yet you were lost in the town crowd

to find a precious welcome escape.


Perhaps when we are in different places,

sometimes we remember each other's images, thinking

"What they would say to help?"

Do a few tears escape remembering

we said we'd stay special friends.

So should I prepare for a tearful reunion?

Or see your image float from the shore

with happiness beating on you from the sun.


As Valentine days fly past,

will your face lose it's grasp on me?

Your picture of flowers in my room

will always shine brightly with happy memories.

Dream on, dream on, yet I

don't want to escape the past,

but who can replace that special friend?









I really was a sceptic scornful of the board

the dangers were outlined yet the invitation was always there

temptation finally prevailed as we battered down the

sacred doors

the glass buzzed around and we recorded all.


A tale of pregnancy and murder last century

transported us into the other world

yet what scene/re-enactment-fantasy were we playing out?

The language was contemporary

whose tortured soul's had we restored?


Alarm bells rang when

we were nearly stuck to the glass and our chairs.

My mentor became our tormentor and then slid into reverse.

a strange stench hung in the room

and a picture was seemingly lopsided

exhausted by the event.


The next few days I walked between the living and the dead

examples please - well, a woman's face was

demonic in the crowd

and smoke filtered into my personal domain.


Medication restored my balance several days later

yet 400 on I was consulting with a Priest

The door of freedom may slam shut for good

If I elect to choose too much time

In the presence of the dead.










There are many hurdles for me to jump

before fleeing this deep draining illness

and the tablets are letting me down.

However I will not fold my arms,

sit down and say a final goodbye.


My body wanted to become its former self

so I walked daily in the countryside.

There were deer who crept up to me

and raised me a big hearty smile.

The knees became weak for I knew

good people were also saying fond "hello,"

I must be stronger willed before them.


There's a rustling by the brook

an owl is yelling out "I'm in trouble".

Thus I pick up the mantle

of being the strong one,

I had preserved a life that day.


Yet it was largely the medicine

which made it fly once again.

So I rushed to the cupboard

like old Mother Hubbard

who would never have run out of medicine.


Thus I took up retaking my medicine

and moved house to the countryside.

Again and again it cried out to me

"here you can regain to train

to claim back a new lease of life."


The old walks lifted me more than ever,

but first I had paid my respects

to a sad old ailing tree,

yet now it stood teeming with life

so rested by it with a happy heart.


However in closing this chapter

I must pay tribute

to the real healers

the medicine and people

who have assisted me

to regain that precious gift called life.







The cottage illuminates the soul's greatest fantasy,

entrenched in the vaults of the forest,

where even spiders get puzzled finding the address.

There's always a blanket of harmony waiting,

even the fairies and the wolves exchange

delicate words when meeting in the cottage.


It usually snows to match your most recent dream

of the most tranquil scene of the cottage.

It feels its beauty melting unless a person's

passion does not increase tenfold when stumbling upon it.

Please remember, this house traps your mind,

hearts are not forgiven when viewing then stalking away.


The last few owners were healers of people and animals,

using the forest's natural gifts so love is ingrained

in the cottage walls, moonlight quarrels won't spoil it.

The princess and prince of all seasons always visit,

to bless this cottage with picturesque seasonal scenes.

They think only owners who summon dodos out of

the finest trees around the cottage should breathe here.

Yet everyone has magic throughout their whole body

to conjure up the cottage visions when alone and sad.


The cottage owners must see predictions in everything,

otherwise the solitude could reduce sanity to dust.

The cottage will dissolve in tears if money is given for it.

The cottage passes on the secret to new owners

in a dream, of the life saving medicine

to the forests rarest find, the unicorns.


The cottages emotions are ablaze with joy,

for it knows a dream has entered someone's mind

of the paradise cottage.  The location

where every person wants to stay.

The people’s dream escape.








Signs of a harmonious infectious Eden,

with people and forests ignited when,

humans invited the tree spirits

to unite with their souls.

The dispute had not flared then.


Centuries later people shared visions,

the plot had turned bad

and its suicidal - it's going to explode.

Some people forgot their past green sins,

chop chop more more cannot stop.


Humankind hitched a lift to see the spirit people

and with honest regret snared on their tongues,

bowed down handing a fresh gold olive leaf.

Seemingly stagnant statues suddenly saw sense,

both leaders tortured breath waned with talks,

to prove the understanding would go sane again.


The spirit people welcomed them

to an ancient buried demonstration.

Ancient Ancestors showing how their skills

respected the "hearts" of the forest,

the forest's living undergrowth started

planning gnawing the human knowledge

dishing deserved retribution for destroying trees.


The animals turned friendly seeing

humans with tears in their eyes

for the environmental demonstration

was not set in year "zero"

it was in the year ????

in many places around the globe

creatures and humans were breathing freer

for the trees were plentiful again.








I want to collect a part of the sky

the timeless lucky emblem for my child

to emotionally use carefully as my first gift.

The words "think lucky" would

always be enshrined on it.

The whirlpool of harm then won't

embrace the infant for a flickering moment.

Are the gravestones already too stoked?


The nurse said generously "you are 32"

no I am 23 I look older

because I sell flowers near Heavens gate.

One metes out honest sympathy

working near the cemetery




 I feel like reserving a place

dealing overtime with the reaper

for the last 7 years.

I also cope with personal demons slating me

for having an abortion aged 11.


The night I met my child

equalled my rebirth

and once again the flowers

could speak many languages very quickly 

The drain near my flower stall

cast away my entrenched swarms of fear.


The dead embraced the new born in a dream

and wished them well on earth.

so many happy vibes fixated in my head

for my offspring had awarded me a

radiant new pathway in my life.







7 pints yesterday

will the nightmare never cease

Morrison-Moon I won't follow you

Friends galore evaporated in the picture

even my mother - 'not you too!'


Poe drunk from bar - bar

40's young, yet celebrated through and through

what about idiot? (That's myself)

as the sick crashed the wall

enjoyed the heyday - what about you?


Drinking - silently sinking

blinking up now down and out.

Six foot under - only 28

roared an ex-drunkard now controlled

realisation triggered through the brain.


Choice is yours


'Friends forever


Drink & Die!'








Friends smile brighter than rare groomed diamonds,

memories of my visions of anger fade when

moonlight reveals friends against the sparkle of one's mind.

Cascades of tears are jilted by remembering friend's kind words,

telephone wires melt with frenzy when gusts

of sound advice sing aloud along the line.

Phrases from friends' letters are strewn in the brain.


I am like a rare animal who hibernates a long time,

then when a friend cannot dispose of bad luck,

my words aim to strike heavier chords than optimistic dreams.

The message aims to rock-a-bye the friend's soul,

that would be recalled until they surrender life.

My role is to repair friends sad states without paybacks,

I am blunt no midnight soft words trail my lips.

My mind stops clocks 24 hours a day when friends shout help.


Friends seemed lost by you not uttering "sorry",

you know they are gone when their dreams don't excuse you.

The investment was heavy, you climbed many mountains together,

they dig in the memory which time does not remove.

Well, go on, lose face, but this victory's for life,

for you've kept a friend by remembering hard times together,

when the ties were so strong hurricanes could not remove them,

but most importantly rock-a-bye the word "sorry" to your friend

and a new dawn will seem fresh again.










Mum is this really true?

Children of my age used to play

many games in village streets.

You purchased my best buddy

at only 16 working hours.

No human would ever locate

all these pals for someone

as reclusive as myself.

Goodbyes are far less painful,

a button's pressed, you've never met their face.


My brain's aghast , I love assisting the human race,

but again "They've purchased most of my wares"

said an optician sadly recalling,

 a professor's correct utterance

that new human ailments are breeding fast.

I wind myself up repeating the same old rhyme,

their evening relaxation is adding to their pain,

in front of the knackered square box.

They confess "Well, I don't watch much,

but then forget what their day job was.







Recently I bought a caravan,

took my children to the sea.

My Wife stayed alone at home,

would have thought tensions flew around,

yet everyone was happy all the time.


 Only my Wife before stopped mayhem in my mind,

Now the children helped me in ways I did not know.

I was easily the weakest person,

now lives stars seem to sparkle more,

the weekend addressed questions buried long ago.


My Wife was able to go dancing with friends

said she felt younger and was free,

which I will try and remember every day.

Women's rights must boom much more here.

Talking more about deep feelings which must arise.


My world now collides with greater joy,

when the house welcomes her home.

Many meetings of hearts and minds

have made us feel more free.

There's something in the way we react to words

that produce magical moments to treasure.

It's like a second honeymoon for us.


The sun could vanish, I would notice,

if she left me for good all alone.

Yet we are coping much better now,

for we know we will always

be opposite in so many ways.

I respect her hopefully so not to sound demeaning.

Our lives are so much better now since that weekend.









Seconds to react,

screams are trapped in one's throat.

The car and ourselves seem weighted by chains,

as time dies before car-car contact.

My eyes shut down to kill the haunting scene,

but dream time imagery will conjure up

?            ?             ?


Reality returns, strange forces emerge

swarming around the car, it's the living dead!

I yell,

"have any passengers left this earth"?

everybody's ok,

ordeal's over and we can now just walk away.


Flashing lights shatters the myth that everything's normal,

Inside the ambulance it feels like ones final port of call.

I'm soon discharged and drift home to bed,

somebody's saying "tomorrow's just another normal day"

But I'm asleep and first come the nightmares,

"combat on remain".







Goodbye, democracy. "Hello" to pain

glad I healed a wound with a certain friend

whatever I was now what image is fastened on me

killing is survival but how can one truly thrive?


I'm studying a photo of a male opposer

he seemed to be saying "sorry"

where'as only "kill" lay smothered on his lips

now he's comforting the almost extinct.


After the trenches overran with blood

The soldier requested mental help,

Yet only received a cell.

Now the persons post war tensions

are a welcome study for

The modern soldier's potential medicine.







Her suitcase is obtaining itchy feet,

wish I had burnt an image of myself.

The walls are still trembling from

the recent morbid phrases strewn around.

The cats started barking, too scared to come in,

there's more storms lurking around the house.

She's aching to pick up her belongings,

which are sighing with relief at living soon in peace.



I should have read your forecast in the leaves,

I should have been a better domestic man.

You always were the ace at being the bread winner.

I should have agreed at having children,

instead of basking in reams of 5-star entertainment.

Now child's cries "you're great Dad", shatter my fragile dreams,

we were competitors instead of a team.

I'll explore my greatest depths to repair your broken heart,

roll the dice please one more time for me.



Let's dig out and salvage our crumbling emotions,

otherwise arguments will flourish if we unite in heaven.

I have flushed you down the drain in many ways,

I hope to be the new man of this age,

by opening the door to unseen domestic chores.

I was never very good at loving anybody,

kisses equalled stalactites and embraces like ghosts.

My stopwatch for this relationship has nearly expired,

my mood will kill romance if I lose you now.



Romeo will never be my lucky shadow,

let me light the candle much more in you.

I'll unwrap my new self quickly now,

my old mind can rot in the garbage can.

We could report our happiest emotions in a scrapbook,

having children would expel the dire repetition

of loving the keys of the latest jaguar.

Please, let's discuss our crossroads of despair,

remember we've melted each others soul with kind words.







I felt really cool owning lots of money

and would laugh at low owners calling them dummies.

It could never happen to me any more,

I should change my bath water to champagne,

I did not talk much for time was money.


People whispered once I was too nice a person,

so I changed my ID without saying sorry.

I had so many false friends,

so one gave out wrong addresses,

I did not trust anybody any more.


I was such a high flier,

excess then begun to bore me.

It's a shame my wife is expecting, I once thought,

what time have I for a child?

I'll just say 'Hello it'.


So it really was a shock,

when life dared say I'd lost face,

my Manager who owned less in life than me

said "Your behaviour's cost you your job."

I felt I redeemed myself

by begging my surprised Wife to stay,

we were two strangers bonded by love.


I admit I had to grovel

and shift through the mud

to surface with proper friends again.

My bank manager almost smiled saying, "You're broke."

I thought my friends foolish

not to cancel my debts,

even though my next job would outsmart all their money,

so I became a nice person again.


Money really wrecked my life,

it was hard work saving my soul.

I'm a low earner now "Hooray"

and I hold my face up high.

I do charity work, for this is my line.


I laugh at my high earning friends,

they think they purchase love with their money.

Many are in a lonely place

where I can understand them,

so I show them where not to fall.







I was silently treading the City streets for loneliness,

the bars were alive, most eyes avoided my looks.

However the loners picked up on my stare,

we often end up too far down Memory Lane

and the rain falls down with much pain.

Yet I weep most for loneliness when in autumn time.


I enjoy shaking hands firmly with an imaginary reaper,

by my favourite pond at sundown,

where we only discuss good things in life.

These meetings repairs my sanity or perhaps loneliness.

The reaper told me truths about myself,

so goodbye so called friend, my only ones loneliness.


I bend down and feed City stray dogs,

one feels better talking to non-human beings,

it's brought back a light in my life once again.

Dog saved me from drowning in the canal

I was lonely, drowning, it made me love people more.

Loneliness brings me happiness in my own personal way.


I felt rays of heaven when alone,

self pity died in a bottle years ago for me,

yet life is full of comebacks.

Now I emerge to shake many human hands.

Yes, I do live in this World with other humans,

it's fun, it's sad, I want to share it not alone.










'Mean Streets' said the taxi driver,

my final act came four minutes before.

'History now' cried the great dictator behind the door

Mummy drags my figure into his tomb

Inside Oscars turned to ash

at my age, Welles had dried up too.


Fangs connecting neck, green man chases John

ears aching toiling with the bells.

Antoinette on Scarlets back from the gallows.


'Juliet' - hand on heart - 'are you truly my girl?'

behind some mask I have played them all.


Autograph please - sorry - What's your role?

Sometimes I have gained acclaim and applause

Brookshaw and the one eyed creature the

placard said it All.







Webbs weaved on suit, the trousers are in a jumble,

the cities full of snakes, heartbeats race.

May batteries were discharged one year ago.

Hello Mr Snail, knock, knock, is there anybody there?

Who's next please on the assembly line?


Old father time stopped the clock - days dying,

thermometer explodes at 120 degrees in the house - I'm suffocating

pondering at the cross roads - which path - no I've lost my way.

An emergency - 10.20 - 10.40 - 11.00 I must take a pill.

Joy, hundreds upon hundred, lines of lies, tears - all spill on that page.


Town people bustle past like a speeded up film

Shop prices have multiplied ten times overnight,

you're living in the past - Haggling's not allowed

Head left - right - embarrassed, suspicious - I feel like a spy.

Family and friends who've moved mountains sometimes seem such strangers

My body's on that scrap heap 'Temporary basis'

Hope one million plus feel that theirs is too.







One must secretly bless nature's will

when the sun extracts you to dispose

of your irrational demons in the morning.

It strips away the segments of sadness

and leaves the core much easier to handle.


Many people positively adore it,

when vitamin pills are mentally rationed

until Autumn boasts to the sun

"it's up to me to alter radically

peoples moods to deal with hibernation."


"Both of us should capture

an image of the sun

into a locket over our hearts"

said the lovers stargazing

into each others minds.


We would probably have crushed our days

counting numbers on our house

if our eyes had not mutually danced

when first meeting at the hazy pool

which threw up dancing waves of passion

were we both hypnotised by the sun that day?


People acted like their ancient ancestors

possibly predicting further trouble because

mankind's "earthly" barbarity virtually blocked the sun.

Eventually the sun and moon

almost went on strike for one day.


"There may be unity for

further generation's the people cried

The words were sparkling across the sky

"Don't squander peace on earth for greed"

that really was a landmark time

when masses saw the most positive weather message of them all.







I'm lovesick for the train to take me home

to my wife and children who nearly banished me.

I played Casonova with a younger lover,

my heart bled when love turned stale.

The rollercoaster changing life and soul

was too expensive a ride for me.


I was pardoned by my Wife

for the rough childhood days I endured.

I pray to life for precious gifts given me,

I almost gave this away.

Life however, seemed charmed away from home,

reality was boring, I am always the little boy.


I, hand on heart, missed reading bedtime stories,

is the Wife really coping, returning to work.

I feel like acting out penance for eternity,

my Wife has rediscovered happiness for me.

I'll repay with promises lighting up bleak days.


My actions must be told when the kids get older,

for some of their childhood months were damaged,

by a lonely figure intent on destroying lives.

In a nightmare my Wife and children walked

away from me into rain rejoicing in happiness.

I'd hate men if my children repeated this human curse.


Happy days have returned to this family again,

I play the fantasy games with the children.

I'm still a child who now won't run away,

the ex lover has promised to fade.

My sanity became stale when

my family were for sale.

My mind's still angry, for I almost

gave this priceless happiness away.








Peter was ambitious and lived alone,

he thought it easier to catch

the healing wounds on his own.

In his soul he thought he could breathe without love,

Because tears shatter louder on the ground when love is gone.


Peter sat down and wrote his first long letter

to brother where hearts and memories clashed

about the happy times and struggles they had together.

They mentally warned each other that,

aching heart meetings plagued their minds,

so they set a date where

handkerchiefs would not dry in the wind.

The rollercoaster of life would otherwise freewheel

where reunions are lost forever in groups of flowers.


Peter wanted to become an ambassador to his parents,

where a younger voice in moments of frozen time,

would ease a troubled mind about growing old.

Peter swore to be one of their mirrors.

Love merged in new experiences in life,

so love always swore to survive,

for the sake of humankind.


Peter admits love has rescued his loner's mind.

Sacrifices were not bitter, he feels a younger man.

He thanks certain people for giving advice

on love which gave the courage to search.

Although some arguments seem like

winter never turns to sun,

new horizons are easier to catch when

there's someone real and you're both in love.







I recently obtained strange vibes preparing for Father time,

to usher in a hopeful memorable year.

I'm old, I feel like Father Time's Father,

yet I embrace the modern time,

my shadows do not yell for the past.


I lived with somebody before marriage in the 1930's.

I recently became my grandchild's age "Oh time, stand still"

when he tapped into me for the timeless persons advice,

on how two people survive before the blossom springs.

The lost young adult is still ingrained in my old bones.


I pierced open ands entered my children's era,

by working in the new tidal trend wave - rock and roll.

I have shed new skin,

I am the child within me.

I can move easily into other generation realms,

timeless should be stamped on my brain.


I've felt the sun shine much in my time,

yet recently omens change it to bleak skies.

My mask is tiring to appear trendy to the young,

I'll embrace old and still thrive for time.

Time breathes excitement, there's new horizons for me.


















© GnomeingSpriteicus 2011


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