My Book of Poems, part three

Holiday Home

Lazy days,

Starlight nights,

Summer ways,

Magic sights.

Time to sit,

To wait a while,

Time for wit,

A time to smile.

Life should be,

Just always so,

It can be,

This I know…

A Hard Life

I am black, I am blind.

I am a slave, who has no free will.

I work for the good of all, not for the sake of the individual.

I have no dreams, I have no plans, and I receive no rewards.

I am conditioned to serve; I do so without complaint,

And I will continue until the day I die.

I am - an ant.

Tuesdays

Tuesday feelings, a non-type day,

There’s no reason to remember it.

It’s gone before I know,

Ah well, that’s how Tuesdays go...

Wednesday

It's Wednesday,

It’s mid week drunge.

The worst has passed,

And the best is still to come.

It's downhill to the weekend fun,

And freedom from the drudgery.

Like Lemmings…

I’m out in my car on a wonderful day,

Summer’s about (it’s the beginning of May).

I look in the mirror and see behind me,

A car that's so close (he must want to overtake me).

I let him speed by, raining clouds of soft dust,

But I wonder, so wonder - why all the rush?

Why, like lemmings, do they drive faster each day?

Each one following the other, without a why or a say.

Then I forget them; I ignore them ‘cos I’m happy and snug,

To put, put along slowly in my old little bug.

Passing Through

‘Normal’ people,

Passing by,

‘Normal’ persons,

I wonder why,

They never question,

Never see,

Cannot ponder,

You or me.

Their world is full,

Of senseless pain,

Pointless work,

That has no aim,

There is no rhyme,

Or reason why,

All they do is run,

Not try.

They need to stop,

To look around,

To take the time,

And feel the ground,

To see the sky above,

So blue,

To feel God’s love,

For them - It’s true.

Sunday 17th April 2005

It was so wet today,

‘Cos it rained all day,

No sign of the sun,

It was hid right away.

I stepped through the grass,

Submerged by the rain,

It was a cool, dark day,

‘Cos it rained all day.

My feet got wet.

In the water, all around,

You know, I felt as though,

My bones were drowned.

By the end of the day,

Of falling H20,

Rising up from the ground,

Springs began to flow.

I had enough of it all,

I retired safe to my bed,

Submerged my face in a book,

And sailed away in my head.

The Blackbird’s Song

At half past five, I hear him sing,

Perched high upon the post,

He begins his song, greeting the dawn,

With beautiful tune and notes.

Each year I wait for that magical day,

When he starts his song anew,

It’s the very same one, yet changed, somehow,

Is this noticed by only the few?

I often think and ponder on this,

That if this didn't happen, one year,

If his sweet song remained the same,

Would it still be just as dear?

Next time you’re out on a fine spring day,

Listen for the blackbird’s song,

Remember me, and remember it,

And memorise his beautiful song.

The First Swallow

I caught my first glimpse of a swallow today,

Flying gracefully above me, in the month of the May.

It was a balmy, clear evening, a blue sky turning red,

My senses leaped upwards with this beacon, ahead.

She flew right on past me, not missing a beat,

My eyes tried, in vain, to keep up with this feat.

Then she vanished, disappeared, avoided my view,

Leaving me empty, disillusioned and feeling so blue.

Appearing again, and in a dive and a rush,

She swooped downwards at me, tweeting, "Why all the fuss?"

Upwards ever higher my eyes followed her flight,

Till we each found the other, and knew it was right.

We will have a good summer, this year, I am sure,

For God touched my heart when he opened the doors,

To the wonder and the marvel and the beauty there is,

Surrounding us daily, life is surely no quiz!

Tsunami 2004

The big wave hit,

So cruel and fast,

They had no chance,

The first or last,

As across the land,

It thundered on in,

Engulfing them all,

In its terriblbly din.

Before its might,

It pushed them on,

Forward and under,

Till they were gone,

The backwash began,
To pull hard again,

Returning seaward,

Dragging on them.

Nothing was left,

Just broken dreams,

Broken people,

Helping teams,

Searching the shards,

For signs of life,

For a miracle,

In all this strife.

This bad brought out,

The good in all,

In common grief,

To heed the call,

To carry on,

And try anew,

That’s all that was asked,

It was all they could do…

I’m Not Mad!!!

I’m not mad; mad, mad mad,

I’m not mad - not me!

I'm not mad, mad mad, mad,

Mad, mad, mad, oh hee.

I AM NOT MAD!

(We'll not so much that anyone will notice, will they?)

And on that mad note I'll say goodbye from this, the third selection from ''My Book of Poems'…

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I am the crazy-mad writer of children's stories,

songs, nursery rhymes and much, much more!

© Gerrard T Wilson 2008